Page 7 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
“Stand. Up.”
My jaw clenches at the anger in his voice as I push through the burning sensation in my legs and come back up to stand. Any hope I had that this would be a more mild visit vanishes. His moods are always wild and unpredictable. Sometimes he comes in and just sits with me, talking as if we’ve always been close, as if we are actually family. But today the king is angry and I am meant to be a release for that fury. My eyes find a chipped stone on the wall behind him, and I focus on it, allowing everything else around me to blur.
“Do you have any idea what it is like running a kingdom? To have the people of this realm rely on you to make the right decisions?” he questions, voice deep with rage. I know it’s rhetorical, but my surprise at the absurdity of his words nearly allows a scoff to leave my mouth. Nearly. His hand reaches out to play with a strand of my hair, twisting it between his fingers. “Of course you don’t,” he continues, tone full of disdain. “My father used to say I had to earn my title. I was not sure what he meant until that fateful night on the Summer Solstice.”
His hand shoots out suddenly and grabs on to my jaw, his thumb and fingers running up my cheeks as he squeezes—making my lips pucker. Forcing me to look at him again, my shoulders creep towards my ears in response while I watch his eyes burn with an unmatched fury. But there is something else there too. With one hand locked on my jaw, his other slowly tucks my hair behind my ear on one side, the tender and gentle movement contrasting the anger radiating off of him. He drags a knuckle from my temple all the way down my cheek and neck to my shoulder, making my skin feel as if it’s crawling under his touch.
The king’s warm breath caresses over my forehead as he leans in to give me a kiss there. I’ve had years of practice not reacting to his touches, but it’s still a battle to not try to yank away from him. Sometimes I wonder if King Dolian Maxwell, my uncle by blood, sees me as something… other than his niece. The thought chills me to my bones.
“You look more and more like her every time I visit,” he murmurs, his eyes wistful as he studies me. My stomach clenches uncomfortably at the longing in his voice. “Nothing to say today? I have a hard time believing you are finally being obedient,” he remarks, releasing his grip on my jaw, but not moving to back away. He just stares intently at me like he’s gearing up to dosomething.
“Well,” I respond automatically, “what would you like me to say?”
When his eyes narrow into slits and his body becomes tense, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. I start to apologize, but my plea is cut short when he brutally wraps his hand around my neck and forces me backwards until I slam into the stone wall. Tears well in my eyes from the pain—from the fear of what’s to come. His lips lift in a snarl as he looms over me. My hands grasp onto his wrist tightly as I try to pry his grip from my neck, but I’m not strong enough. His hand tightens further until I start to see stars.
“Do you think you are clever?” he asks through gritted teeth, a scrutinizing look flashing over his features. “Your father thought he was clever too, and look how that ended for him.”
Each word is like a blade slicing under my skin. I wince at the clear disdain in his voice when he speaks of his brother. Warm tears slide down my cheeks, endless words and emotions I can’t voice held in each drop. A familiar sensation low in my stomach starts to build within me, its humming making my fingers tingle. I first felt it years ago and it has only continued to make itself known in the time that has passed. Mostly, it appears when the king is preparing to punish me, but he must never know what I can do. So I focus on squashing it down within me, gritting my teeth as I push and push to snuff the feeling out.
The king steps quickly to the side, using his grip on my neck to throw me ruthlessly to the ground. My knees hit the floor first, swiftly followed by my hands. Sharp pain lances through my limbs, traveling to my hips and shoulders.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you? You must like it when I have to punish you.” He steps closer, grabbing a handful of my hair and yanking my head back, forcing me to look at him. A guttural scream leaves my throat from the pain of his grip. He leans in close as he squats down in front of me, his lips a mere inch away from my own. “I will do this until every trace ofhimis gone,” he whispers. His other hand—closed into a fist—connects with my side. Air pushes out of my lungs as another shriek leaves me, my vision beginning to swirl. “We will do this until you are worthy of your title, Rhea.” His fist pounds into my side again and again, my ribs aching with a pain so fierce I feel it in my toes. “Untilyouare worthy,” he grits out again, the back of his hand finding my cheek. The ring he wears on his middle finger slices into my lip, blood dribbling from my mouth and onto my dress.
When he is satisfied with the damage he’s caused, he lets go of my hair, and my body falls to the floor. The king stands, reaching into his pocket and coming out with a white handkerchief embroidered with his initials in gold. Calmly, he wipes my blood off of his hand, deliberately making sure there is no trace left. Like it never happened.
“I will make you different, Rhea,” he vows. “Youwillbe different.”
My head is heavy as I hear him and his guards walk out the door, slamming it shut behind them. Darkness blurs my vision, sucking me into a void until I feel nothing at all.
Cool air caresses my cheek, tickling my eyelashes as my consciousness starts to awaken. My body feels weightless, like I’m floating on water—the smell of jasmine wafting in the wind surrounding me. In the recesses of my mind, warning bells start to go off, but the breeze and the scent, combined with a vague feeling of being insubstantial, makes my concern fade away. The last thing I can remember is falling to the ground from the king’s clutches. I should feel the hard floors beneath me. Bella should be nuzzling my face to try and wake me. My body should be in pain, bruises blooming and soreness settling in bone deep. But I feel none of that.
“Open your eyes, Rhea.”
A soft feminine voice surrounds me, somehow familiar, yet it’s not a voice I know by heart. It takes a concentrated effort to pry open my eyes. When they finally obey, I blink multiple times to try and make my surroundings come into focus. With each blink however, the image doesn’t change or sharpen—the area around me stays formless, lacking definition. There is a sky above me—no, around me—dotted with flickering stars. The sheer number of them changing the normally black night into one that glows silver. How did I get outside? I lift my hand in front of me to see if my body is really here or if I’m some sort of ghost. Maybe the king has punished me too hard, and now my soul is heading to the Afterlife.
“You are not dead, Rhea.” The soothing lilt of the woman’s voice is closer than before, but I still cannot see who it is.
Scanning the space above me, I notice swirls in shades of blue, red, purple, and green. Each color slowly spinning, illuminated even more by the stars. Gods, there must be millions of them. Confusion continues to build inside of me, and I’m not entirely convinced I didn’t die. What is this place?
“The colors are other galaxies. Different worlds and beings and gods who dwell in them.”
Who is that? My mind whirls as the feminine voice chuckles in response; the sound itself is even otherworldly.
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you who I am. And as for where you are, they call this place the Middle.”
My head tilts to the side, processing what the woman said. The Middle. “I’ve never heard of such a place. Is it within the five realms? Wait, how did I leave my tower?”
There is no way I escaped, not on my own, which means someone has removed me. Since Alexi is bound by his blood oath to never let me leave, that means it must have been the king. But I had heard him leave the tower before succumbing to the darkness, so it couldn’t have been him. Uncertainty turns to panic at the thought that I’m somewhere unknown. My eyes dart back and forth trying to understand where this place is and how I came to be here.
“Do not panic. You have not left the tower.” Her voice is all around me now.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I blurt as I try sitting up, but it’s like my body is not my own. I can’t move with any fluidity.
“We don’t have much time together, but I wanted to visit you here—to let you know you aren’t alone.” Her words give me pause, my heart pounding in my chest and mouth struggling to find my reply. Despite the chaos of my thoughts colliding with each other, I manage to finally speak.
“Who are you?”
“I am many things,” she answers, amusement tinkling her tone.
