This morning I try to recall if it was Aurick’s hand or a frying pan that hit my eye and part of my cheekbone. He left before me this morning—either avoiding me or completely forgetting about events that cloud over my head.
I see Chekiss and Niles first, introducing them to Ruth. We sit on the terrace of the asylum, and they all ask why my eye is practically glued shut. Delphine covered the bruise with thick, creamy makeup. Unfortunately, there was no way to cover the swelling. I let her know I would just tell people that I fell down the stairs. None of them nodded convincingly, but they were too polite to question me further.
After an hour, it becomes abundantly clear that Niles and Ruth do not enjoy the other’s company.
“Why must you speak so vulgarly?” Ruth sneers as she finishes off her breakfast.
“I have trust issues.” Stone expression. Serious. Which Niles rarely was.
“And why is that?” she asks genuinely—fully expecting a genuine answer.
He licks the tip of his spoon while maintaining eye contact with her. Here we go.
“Because Skylenna brought me lime Jell-O when I asked for pudding.”
After a second of silence, Chekiss barks out a rough laugh, tipping his head back with his eyes shut. And I am flooded with warm surprise, my cheeks turning hot at the pleasant sound.
As I rise to leave them, Ruth whispers in my ear. “I want to talk about what really happened to your eye… later.” And I won’t deny her that. As a woman living under the same standards, I know she will understand.
Niles gives me a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye, and I feel my stomach churning with each step that brings me closer to his room. I know the right thing to do is to keep it from him; at all costs, do not tell Dessin what happened last night. It will save everyone the stress and heartache. I can do that. I’ve held it together since I left Aurick’s room that night. I’ve sucked in my tears and placed my trembling despair in a locked drawer.
Stepping into the thirteenth room, I see him sitting there on his bed, his eyes immediately drawn to the right side of my face. And merely locking eyes with him is like opening a closet door that is filled to the ceiling with items compacted together. Everything I have comes falling to pieces, crumbling to my feet in a weak downpour.
I reach for something to hold me up as I fight to hold in the sobs that rattle my frame. The cry produces a new supply of warm tears, and I can no longer hide the imminent breakdown.
Dessin is unleashed of his shackles, racing to my side and holding me up by my waist. I grip his arms, squeezing my feeble hands over his muscles. His forehead touches mine. “He hurt you.” And his voice is a husky growl, the awakening of a new beast.
I nod against him, weeping softly as I try to open my eyes and explain. To tell him that I’m okay. It’s happened before. I’m okay. I’m always okay. I can handle this. I always handle this. But I can’t lie to him. I can’t hide the terror still crunching down on my bones after last night. I thought that part of my life had ended. But I traded one monster in for another.
“Goddammit.” He squeezes his eyes shut and uses his left hand to move my hair away from my face. “I’ll end him.” There isn’t an ounce of doubt. Only unlimited confidence and a blizzard of fury lighting a fire behind his eyes, showing me the volcano in him once more, with two strong hands that could wipe out the world.
“I’m scared,” I murmur into his chest.
And I am. I can’t tell if this is a one-time occurrence. I hadn’t realized how deeply affected I was by his knuckles until I saw my reflection in the warmth of Dessin’s eyes. I’m ashamed of myself. I wish I wasn’t this person that can’t fight back.
Coward. Coward. Coward.
My words cause him to melt into me. He wraps his arms around my waist, and in response, my arms move around his neck with my tear-stained cheek resting on his shoulder.
“Tell me what happened.”
I blow out a choppy, frustrated breath. “He was compelled by the drink. And I came home late again. He confessed some—lustful feelings that I didn’t know he had.”
Dessin doesn’t seem surprised by the last bit. “Did you tell him what I told you?”
I nod. “Only after he struck me.”
Dessin moves away, reaching for the door. “I’ll rip his lungs from his chest.” But I snatch his hand from making contact with the handle.
“Please,” I whimper. “Don’t leave me.”
He clutches me tighter. Presses his cheek firmly to the side of my head.
“God, I should have been there.” And there’s truth and regret in his voice—heavier and colossally larger than I can imagine.
I unlock my arms and lightly push against his chest to face him.
“Where were you, Dessin?” My voice breaks, and new tears form in my eyes.
His face falls along with his shoulders, and he shuts his eyes as he clenches his jaw in utter defeat. “I wish I could tell you why I couldn’t protect you this time.”
A thought lands like a meteor in my mind, and the tears stop abruptly. “You—you knew this would happen. That’s why you made me stay late. Did you know he’d hit me if I was late? Did you set this up?!” I shove him away from me, and he doesn’t resist—he takes two steps back.
“No.”
“You must have! Is this part of the game? Set me up for my demise? You control everyone differently. Was this your plan all along? To make my worst nightmare come to life?” My voice is rising with every sentence I spit at him. The pieces are all falling together in unison.
“That’s not what’s happening, Skylenna,” he says tensely, agitation narrowing his eyes and cocking his head to the right.
“What? Now you have little to say? Now you’re angry? I finally see through your antics, and now you don’t have an explanation?” My fists are tight and shaking with embarrassment, anger, betrayal. How could he put me through this?
“No.” His one word passed through his lips in a low warning. But I cannot stop. My blood is boiling, and it sends steam through my ears as I continue.
“Then WHAT?!”
He moves two steps closer and slides his hands on either side of my face.
“BECAUSE WHAT MASTEN WOULD HAVE DONE WAS MUCH WORSE!”
And it’s as if the Emerald Mountains shake from the anger of his words.
What?
“I was keeping you here, so Masten did not have the chance to spend time with you yesterday. I knew he wouldn’t wait up late for you, but I didn’t think Aurick would jump to that extreme.”
How did he know Masten wanted to spend the day with me?
“You’re going to have to help me understand how you know all of this? Because I’m becoming more and more convinced that you can hear my thoughts.” And that on its own is a mortifying thought.
“No, I cannot hear your thoughts. Your body language is enough to pick up on.” He lowers his voice and relaxes his hands that are holding my face. “My brain works differently as you’ve been able to experience during the time you’ve known me. My reach is quite expansive, and I am able to keep tabs on certain individuals. Masten being one of them.”
He was keeping an eye on Masten… And something he was planning caused Dessin to resort to keeping me in his line of sight to ensure my safety.
“What was Masten planning?”
“I—can’t go into detail with you about that right now.” He sighs. “But he’s not going to bother you now. I can tell you that much.”
“But—”
“Skylenna, I know this is difficult for you. I do. I understand I am not easy to trust. But I need you to try.” He shakes his head and drops his hands. “No, I need you to do better than try. There’s a feeling of trust and comfort that you felt when you first met me… despite everything you were told about me. You trusted me. Am I wrong?”
I shrug. No, you’re not wrong.
“Well, that feeling is mutual. And if a raving mad lunatic like me can trust you? Despite the many burdens I carry at this very moment—you can believe in me.”
“Why me? Why do you care about protecting me and no one else?”
It dawns on me that I haven’t asked him this question before.
But I’ve caught him off guard. He blinks, opens his mouth to answer, looks away.
“I don’t exactly have a choice,” he says stiffly.
“I need more than that.”
“The other man in my head…” He looks at me darkly, like he’s about to spill classified information. “He isn’t allowing me to care for anyone else.”
Processing that bit of news sends me walking to his bed in a colorful trance. Taking my mind off the earlier trauma and focusing on this new spectral idea that the mystery soul inhabiting his body behind the shadows, behind psychological bars, is aware of my existence.
And he… cares about me.
