Page 67 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
“Bahira,” Haylee says, and I snap.
“What?” I scream out, swinging around, my hands accidentally slamming into an empty glass bottle. It hits the floor and shatters, shards of glass flying everywhere. “Shit,” I grumble as I bend down to start picking them up. Haylee comes over to help, an awkward silence in the room as we work to clean up my mess. Carefully laying another piece of glass in my palm, I tell her, “I’m sorry, Haylee.”
“It’s okay. I understand—” Her words halt when she hisses out a breath, cradling her hand close to her. Blood begins dripping off her hand and onto the floor as she stands up. I quickly run to a drawer by the sink—throwing it open as I grab two clean white cloths and rush back to her.
“Give me your hand.” I reach across the table with my failed experiments. Her blood drips rapidly, small drops plop and splatter while I clean the wound out before she uses her magic to heal it. Unable to stop the guilt creeping up the column of my throat, I ask, “Are you okay?”
She nods her head, a pitying look crossing over her features—causing my teeth to grind together in response. “Bahira, why don’t we—”
“I just need to be alone,” I interrupt sharply, forcing a curve to my lips as I look at her. The smile doesn’t convince either of us in any way, but Haylee doesn’t call me out on it. Instead, she nods her head, sending me one more look before walking out of the workshop.
I continue picking up the pieces of glass, kneeling on the ground as my hands start to tremble. The first tear falls, then the second, and before I know it, my vision is completely blurred. A harsh cry breaks free as I throw the glass across the room before slamming my palms down on the ground, pain prickling my hands. My body folds over my knees as I let my failure manifest in the tears falling from my eyes.
I cry for the woman who walked into this workshop today with hope that she would discover a breakthrough. I cry for the princess of the Mage Kingdom who just wants to find her value and to contribute in a meaningful way. I cry for the teenager who had to deal with snide comments and dirty looks because of what she was born lacking. And I cry for the little girl who made her father prick her finger five times before she let him embrace her in a hug. Who feared that her parents might not want a magicless daughter.
Chapter Thirty-Four: Rhea
Bootstapagainstthewood floors, the sound getting closer and closer. I try to move my body—my legs or arms oranything—but pain singes my nerves, causing me to groan. Panic then pierces my gut. What if I slept through our escape plan? What if I slept for days and now the king is here to get me? To force me to marry him in some sick, desperate attempt to recreate what he never had with my mother? To force me to bed him? When hands grip my shoulders, I scream out—my vision blurring and head aching.
“It’s okay, Sunshine. It’s just me.” I know his voice, but what if it’s an illusion? Or a terrible mixture of dream and consciousness? I have to fight and get away. I need to leave now before it’s too late. A sob leaves me, broken and full of despair. It isn’t until his arms wrap around me, pulling me carefully to my knees, that I let myself calm. He cradles me, my head laying against his chest as I breathe in the crisp scent of autumn and relax in the safety of his touch.
“Flynn?”
“It’s me. I’m here,” he repeats, cradling my body to his. “Did he do this to you?”
I don’t answer, words beyond me as a slight tingling sensation prickles my back, but he knows. He knows only one person could be responsible for this. His arms band tighter around me like he can absorb the pain radiating through my body into his own.
“Never again,” he whispers into my ear as his hand strokes soothing lines down my back. “I swear to you that he will never touch you again. I will fuckingkillhim before that happens. I don’t care if this kingdom falls because of it.” Leaning back, he wipes the tears from my cheeks and kisses my forehead, lingering there as he holds me. Invisible tethers draw me closer to him, forcing me to take the support he so selflessly offers. His deep voice is a melody of vengeance and retribution as he makes a vow to me that feels inked in blood. “His head will roll for what he’s done to you.” I stiffen, feeling the truth of those words settle into my bones. The warmth of my magic focuses on my chest, healing what must have been a bruised or broken rib. I realize I have never really felt myself healing like this before.
“What time is it?” I grunt out, my hands going to his shoulders for support.
“Nearly sunset. I would say we should wait another day for you to—” He pauses, closing his eyes before continuing, “heal, but I don’t want to spend another second in this kingdom.” I take in the lines of his face, the tension and anger held in his eyebrows and jaw. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he rasps, laying his self-imposed guilt out before me. And it hurts more than any time the king has placed a hand on me.
I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers diving into his hair. “You’re here now,” I whisper, scraping my nails lightly on his scalp and melting at the way he embraces me tighter in response. Kneeling, we hold each other, the last of the sun’s golden rays blanketing us in its light. “And I’m okay. With you, I am better than okay.” My lips graze his jaw as I place a delicate kiss there.
It’s strange but exhilarating to be able to touch him in this way. It’s the most natural feeling in the world, and yet I can’t believe I get to do it. Everything around us feels momentarily still, a pocket of quiet where we simply hold each other. Months of near-touches and glances and fluttering heartbeats all led to here and now.
“Then lets get the fuck out of here,” Flynn states after a few moments, breaking the silence.
I inhale deeply, my nose grazing the base of his neck before he slowly untangles us and helps me up to a stand. I stretch and wince from the tightness in my body, but all the pain is now gone. “I’m alright,” I insist, noting the creasing of his forehead. “I just need to change.”
I take the steps up to the loft, grabbing my change of clothes. Once dressed again in trousers and Alexi’s undershirt, I pull my hair into a ponytail and secure it with a ribbon. Walking over to my vanity, I open the drawer and pull out the little black pouch holding Alanna’s bracelet. I clasp it on, smiling faintly at the small comfort it brings before placing the now-empty pouch back in the drawer.
“I’ve never heard you curse so much,” I muse as I join him back downstairs, hoping to ease some of the tightness that still lines his face.
“I’m sorry, Sunshine,” he says lightly. My heart beats in my throat when he kneels before me. I notice that he has his sword in a sheath now placed across his back but his golden armor is gone. Instead he wears the usual all-black tunic, trousers, and boots.
“First, don’t be sorry. I like it,” I respond, without a second thought. His head snaps up to look at me in surprise. “Second, what are you doing?” I gesture to where he is before me.
“I’m helping you put on your boots. Put your hands on my shoulders,” he instructs. I do so, watching as he places one boot before me to step into, followed by the other. I notice immediately that they feel much more comfortable than the first time I wore them. When I express that to Flynn, he pinches his lips together, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “You probably had them on the wrong feet.”
I scowl at him and narrow my eyes. It just makes him laugh harder, and though it’s at my own expense, I’m grateful for the sound and the way the agitation eases out of him. We walk over to where I set the satchel in the library—a move I am grateful for since it concealed the bag from the king.
Flynn sighs as he walks in, looking at all the books that line the walls and saying wistfully, “It’s a shame that we didn’t get to spend more time here.”
I hum my agreement, stepping farther into the room and looking around. For years—decades—this room was my only escape. I was physically barred in and forced to remain here, but mentally, I was able to leave through the stories that these books provided. Over and over, I traveled to different realms and became different heroes and heroines, and had it not been for the words written on those pages, I might not be here at all. The tightness of my emotions grips around my throat as I try to swallow the feelings down. I reach my hand out for his, interlacing our fingers before taking one last glance at the shelves and walking to the door. Flynn slides the satchel over his shoulder, not at all affected by the weight of it like I was. It’s then that I notice he has another bag slung over the opposite shoulder.
“I never asked you, how did you acquire all those books anyway?” he questions.
