Torrents (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 3) (19 page)

     “But I think it’s more than that,” I said and held up a finger as I gathered my own theory into words. “I think the scales allow Morven to control.”

     Tunder’s gaze deepened and I felt his breath catch in his throat. “Then he has control over both of you,” he whispered. From the corner of my eye, I saw Zale’s gaze flicker back and forth between me and the new king. I could only imagine how this conversation sounded to him.

     “It’s what makes sense,” I urged, seeing my opening. “Why else would there be so much change?” Tunder nodded as we both thought of the warrior strapped to the chair.

     “Why can’t he control you then?” the king asked, his jaw flexing.

     “I don’t know. I’ve wondered that myself.” My voice was quiet as I admitted my thoughts. “Maybe it’s because I’m not fully transformed.” I left the open intent hanging in the air. My birthday was coming all too soon.      

     For a long moment I held my breath as he made his decision. It seemed like ages before he finally turned away from me, his eyes filled with a clarity I hadn’t seen in a long time.

     “Zale,” he said, and the warrior straightened, but only slightly, “you are acquitted of your actions during the Hyven’s massacre of Lathmor.” I exhaled loudly in one great gust. Murmurs began to grow around the room again, but I couldn’t tell if they were in approval or disgust.

     “However,” Tunder continued. “In order to prove you weren’t involved in King Oberon’s murder, you will execute our current prisoner, Verna.”

     “What?” I demanded, the world spinning.

     “You said it yourself,” the young king leveled his gaze. “You told me he left Hyvar before the king was murdered. By your own words, he was outside of Morven’s control at the time. He has to prove his loyalties.”

     “He just did!” I shouted, and the bond we had shared snapped in an instant. My glimpse of the old Tunder disappeared and in its place was the king I didn’t understand.

     “No
you
did,” he said and walked back toward the raised platform. “Now, it’s his turn,” he glanced at Zale. “He has to prove it to me.”

     Everything stilled as something inside me shattered. All thought and feeling fled, leaving me stranded. The anger from the siren’s voice broke my control. My stomach clenched and my heart raced as boiling fury filled my veins and overflowed.

     The crowd of Lathmorians was dismissed, and as they filed out the guards remained next to Zale’s chair. Some looked our way, but I refused to take my gaze from the king. As each face passed by, my fury only grew stronger.

     “How could you?” I said, the words barely passing through my trembling lips.

     “Lissie,” this time it was Zale who said my name and I reeled back. As I turned to him, he cautioned me and a part of my mind wanted to give up the rolling fury. But it claimed me easily.

     Casting aside the memory of Patrick, I fell into the embrace of the torturous nightmares of what I had endured. My only thoughts were for the man he used to be. Rage, familiar and pure, for what had become of him spread to every part of my body. Heat flooded my cheeks.

     His brow creased and I knew he was aware of what I was going through, still he looked away from me and to the king. “I’ll do it,” he said.

     I heard nothing else.

     I stormed from the room, swirling the stilled air. Faces glanced my way upon my exit into the hallway, but no one dared to stop me. I began to pick up speed, my body working faster than my mind ever could. There was nothing I could think of outside of what had been done. My only thought was to prove what had been said and to finally get the answer to the question I had asked her. She would give me an answer.

     Flying down the steps and into the dark marble chamber of the prison was as easy as breathing. The Lathmorian guard gave me no resistance to hand over the keys and when I entered the dark chamber, she pressed herself back against the wall. I didn’t give her the chance to look away before I began to pour my voice into her. The high pitch rang against the marble walls, seeming to grow in its power as it bounced back and forth and gathered together in one voice, to beckon and bend the will of the whimpering girl before me. I barely saw her as I leaned in closer, drawing her frightened eyes to mine.

    
Tell me!
I screamed over and over again and she tried to block out the sound with her hands. Tears welled in her eyes, and still I poured my voice into her, blocking away her resistance with a strength I didn’t know I possessed.

     “It wasn’t Zale!” she screamed, her voice breaking through my own. “He didn’t do it! It was Ressa,” she gasped for air and I grasped her by the arms. She screamed when I touched her but it was more from fear than from pain. I unlocked the chains around her wrists and dragged her to her feet.

    
Walk!
I commanded and she did, upon shaky legs.

     The tears fell off her cheeks as we made our way hurriedly up the stairs and along the hallways to the king’s office; my voice ringing against the walls. Faces stared at us in horror as we passed, but I had no thought for them as I pushed her through the door and into the shrouded room. Zale was still chained to the chair, his face a mask, as I pushed Verna to the floor, her thin frame falling against the marble with a sickening splat.

    
Tell them,
I commanded and she rose to her knees, her cheeks shining with new fallen tears.

     “He didn’t do it,” she said and rocked back and forth, reaching up to cover her ears again. “It was Ressa, Bolrock’s sister.” But my voice didn’t stop as she confessed, the anger still raging like fire. I heard voices and the jangling of chains, but I felt nothing until his hands were on my shoulders.

     “Lissie,” he said and shook my whole frame until my teeth rattled. When my head snapped, I felt something leave me.

     My breath passed through my mouth in harsh gasps and other sounds entered my ears.

     There was a high-pitched wailing coming from the shaking body on the floor and I turned my eyes away disgusted by the sight. A hand grasped my chin and pulled my face upward until I met his gaze. He shook me once more and suddenly I felt the exhaustion in my limbs and water filled my eyes, before I collapsed into his chest.

     The last of the anger receded and in its vacancy, a desperate guilt pushed against my heart. I trembled at the thought of how much I had been controlled, and not by someone else’s will, only my own.

     Fearing what I had become, I continued to keep my face hidden in the midst of Zale’s chest. His arms pressed me to him as though he knew what I was going through. And maybe he did.

     The cries of my tormented prisoner slowed to a stop and I wanted to look up, but couldn’t bring myself to see what I had done. All my practice with my voice could never have prepared me for the strength with which it had taken over.

     “I want to go,” I murmured, knowing he would hear me.

     His voice rumbled in his chest as he asked for permission to leave. The response was negative and I gathered what little courage and strength I had left to look toward the king.

     Tunder’s expression was one of pure shock, which I wouldn’t hasten to forget. As I glanced around the room, the same expressions dawned all the royals’ faces.

     I had not only proven what I knew was true, but had given myself over to whatever darkness loomed in my voice. They saw me for what I really was. Shaking with the remnants of the cooled and disappearing anger, I raised my chin and looked Tunder in the eye.

     “I’m sorry, it came to this,” I said and bit my lip to still the trembling of my chin.

     The king opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His wife stepped to his side, seeing the complete confusion of her husband.

     “Guards,” she said and the remaining four soldiers looked to their queen. “Take our prisoner to the infirmary. See to it she is fed and given time to rest.”

     They nodded and as they gathered up the shaking form of my victim, I forced myself to look at her and see what I had really done. Her body was crumpled in a heap on the floor, her hands clutching the sides of her head as though my voice was still swirling around her.

     With care, they pulled her hands away from her dark head and chained them together, proclaiming her still their prisoner. The largest of the guards picked her up in his arms, as though she weighed nothing, and walked from the room with barely a sound.

    Upon their disappearance, the mood in the room lightened, but only just. I was still heaving from my exertions and had to concentrate to hear their whirling voices. Their words seemed to come from all different sides, bounding off the roof and swirling around me, until I couldn’t distinguish one voice from another.

     “What should we do?”

     “It clearly wasn’t him.”

     “That’s obvious now.” 

     “Why would Ressa kill the king? It doesn’t make sense.”

     “She was paying me back. I killed her brother.”

     “Then why kill my father, he had nothing to do with Bolrock’s death.”

     “She wants me dead. What better way to get the Lathmorians to hunt me down than to kill their king?”

     “True.”

     “She killed him to place the blame on me, hoping it would leave me open to attack from both sides. And she was right. I’ve been hunted by both Hyven and Lathmorians alike for the last few weeks.”

     “And yet you came here and gave yourself to us,” this time I was able to single out Tunder’s voice, “Why?”

     “What safer place than hiding with the enemy?”

    My heart trembled at Zale’s words, but I also knew it had something to do with what he had said to me last night in the dungeon. I knew I was part of his reasoning for coming to Lathmor, I just hadn’t realized what else lay in store for him as well.

     “Are we the enemy?” I noted Elik’s concern.

     “Possibly.”

     And on the conversation went, swirling around me as I turned my eyes away to look outside. They debated their next actions, one idea weaving into another and I was immune to it all.

     There was a cloud, one single cloud peeking through the veiled curtains fluttering in the breeze. It shifted, its mass rolling over itself in a strange conglomeration of effortless movement. As it passed by the window and disappeared, a clinging desperation took hold of my throat. I needed air.

     “Please,” I gasped, not looking away from the windows. The voices around me silenced. “I need air.”

     From the corner of my eye, I saw a nod and a gesture from the king. Zale’s warm palm pressed against my arm and he led me from the room with powerful strides. Two other sets of feet followed us, and from somewhere I heard the jangling of chains. The lump in my throat tightened as we got closer to the entrance of the palace. When we stepped outside, the sea air filled my lungs with a fresh vibrancy.

     My hair lifted on the breeze and drifted around my face in a ripple. The tips of it brushing below my shoulders and I moved down the steps and toward the front of the island in search of the water. I could just make out the crash of the waves against the cliff walls as we reached the edge of the island.

     Legs shaking, I seated myself, fully aware I couldn’t see the horizon in the haze of the cloudy fog. But the sound of its rhythmic crashing helped to still the trembling in my heart, and when Zale sat down beside me to pull me into his arms, I finally felt whole again. Though his chains held his arms almost too tight around me, I relaxed into him.

     When it started to rain, I tucked my chin beneath his head and let the water wash away the fears of what I had become.

That’s enough
, I thought, shaking the water from my eyes.

     The rain thundered down all around us. Rivulets of water traced my cheeks where the damp fabric of Zale’s shirt pressed against my skin like a clammy hand. When I raised my head to pull away, he lifted his arms from around my back allowing enough space for me to sidle up against him.

     Wrapping my hands around his arm, the bulge of corded muscle and the smooth brush of his skin pushed against my fingers. Leaning my head on his shoulder, an apology formed in my chest and I wanted to speak the words. They clung to the inside of my throat, refusing to be voiced.

     “Done?” he asked, his tone stern. The sound was harsh, reminding me of who he was. I treasured its sound, knowing he was still mine, even in the darkness—he was still mine.

     “Maybe,” I said and shrugged.

     “It comes on quick doesn’t it?” he said softly.

     “What does?”

     “The anger.” He acknowledged. I realized he knew exactly how I felt.

     Maybe he was only now beginning to understand how to build up the light, but I knew in my heart my journey had only just begun. The darkness was a power I had never expected to meet, the taste of it was enough to make me weak with both fear and desire at the same time. A fact which frightened me to my core.

     “Yeah,” I agreed and sniffed around the water running down my face.

     The rain pelted us from all directions. In some way it was refreshing, reminding me I was still alive. Beneath our hanging feet waves crashed against the rock wall, the sea spray reaching our toes and coating them in a saltiness which was too soon washed away by the fresh rain. All around us was water, and yet, I could only focus on him.

     “You must control it,” he spoke again. I concentrated on my twisted fingers resting in my lap.

     The guilt of what had happened was growing by the second, and even though my intentions had been to release him of suspicion, my means of getting the information had shown me how dangerous I could be. Unconsciously, I passed a hand over my hip, where beneath the dark soldier garb lay my lavender scar.

    “I know,” the admission passed through my lips and I was surprised when my voice didn’t break.

     “I mean it,” he said. I turned to look at him, the depths of his brown eyes alight with a fierceness I hadn’t seen in a long time. “You can’t let that happen again.”

      The words cut me to the core. I wanted to cry, but refused to give in. “Okay,” was all I said and turned my face away once more. How could he say such things when he had done worse?

     His chains jangled when he reached for my chin and turned me back to face him. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his voice growing soft, barely audible over the din of the storm. “I’ve seen it. You have more courage than anyone I know.”

     I swallowed and nodded my head, all the while knowing he was wrong. I was weak, I always had been and what had happened over the past few days only proved it to me more. I was shockingly aware of my shortcomings when it came to strength and courage. Though I wanted to change, I was uncertain of whether I would be able to meet my fears head on.

     There was one storm I had yet to face, all because I was too afraid of what he might do. Meeting his eyes once more, I suddenly knew it was time.

     As soon as the idea ran through my mind, I began to feel a panic stir in the pit of my belly. My fingers trembled and I covered his hand with my own to pull it away from my face. His brow scrunched when I glanced back to where Kryssa and Elik stood beneath the trees and couldn’t hear us. They were engrossed in their own conversation, attempting to stay dry in the swirling storm; their eyes flicking our way every now and again.

     My heart thundered as new thoughts took shape. I knew the words I needed to speak, but getting them past my lips was a struggle of immense proportions. I felt as though the only sound I could hear was the heavy, drumbeat of my heart when I opened my mouth.

     “I’m tired,” I said, my mind a mess, as I looked back at him. The rest of the words moved from my throat to my tongue.

     “I’ll carry you,” he said softly, mistaking my meaning.

     He made a move to pick me up, but I shook him off. Gazing over the churning waves, I blinked rapidly as a gust of rain pushed against my face, and for the first time in almost a year my hair remained wet while on land. In some way it made me feel more human, as though I was finding the old girl who had stood on the boat humming to herself. All the while the rain poured down around us, grasping at my hair in desperate passion for its lank mess.

     “No,” I said, my voice hoarse, “I’m tired of lying to you.” When I glanced his way, his brow was furrowed, his lips slightly parted. “You’re wrong, I’m not brave. I’m a coward, because—because—I couldn’t even tell you.”

     He waited patiently; rivers of rain coursing down his face, making me see it in a new way. There was a darkness about his features which stood out sharply against the smooth curve of his lips. His chin stuck out as though already defying the words I was going to speak—the innocence in his eyes made me want to forget I’d ever spoken.

     “Do you remember when you asked me if Patrick was dead?” My voice broke on his name, but I ignored the sound and watched as the harshness in his gaze began to grow, the innocence receding. The warrior was taking over, it wouldn’t be long now. “He isn’t dead.”

     The arm I was holding onto flexed, and I wondered if his blades would have appeared if it wasn’t for the cuffs still containing his forearms.

     “He’s alive,” the tears in my eyes mingled so quickly with the rain I couldn’t tell if I was even truly crying. “And he’s right here.” I squeezed his arm.

    His face changed in a moment, his eyes widening and ready to laugh as though I had told him a joke. But when I said nothing more, the light lift of the corners of his mouth drifted and the muscles fell into a tight line.

     Instantly, his brow furrowed more deeply than ever and his jaw flexed tightly, as he ground his teeth together. He shook his head from side to side and looked away from me. I was losing him again. A familiar tearing began to grasp the sides of my heart, threatening to split the already torn remains into shreds once more.

     “You don’t remember your past,” I said having to speak around the lump in my throat, “but I do. Morven made you forget, but I can remember for the both of us.” I squeezed his arm again and this time he flinched, pulling away from me. 

     His eyes grew dark and he turned away to look over the ocean, while my gut twisted. I knew one word from him was all it would take to shatter me into a million pieces, and I needed him more than ever.

     He was mine, and I was his. We were connected in a way I couldn’t explain, by our pasts and our futures, and still there was a threat to our existence which was impossible to comprehend.

     The waves pounded beneath us and after a back splash touched my ankles, I couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Please say something.”

     He closed his eyes and the droplets ran over his skin unhindered. His shoulders seemed to slump a little and I noted the way his hands twitched. I had seen it before and knew he was waging a war inside himself to remain calm; a war I now understood.

     “The whole time?” he said, the hint of betrayal in his voice was enough to begin the tear in my chest.

     “Yes,” I admitted.  My tears turned the fresh droplets of rain into salted rivers. “I knew the first time I saw your face.”

     He nodded and his jaw flexed as though I had slapped him. My chest was heaving as I continued to look at him. Though my fingers trembled, I knew I would face him.

     “Why now?” he asked, twisting the knife of guilt further in my gut. His head slowly turned my way, the hurt and frustration bubbling beneath the solid brown of his gaze.

     “Because I was afraid,” my breaths were coming in short gasps. “And because I should have told you a long time ago.”

     His fury matched the storm swirling around us. Over the din, I could hear his own breaths escaping him in a short rhythm as his chest heaved beneath his soaked grey shirt.

     “Just listen, please,” I added, and then began to tell him everything. In a way the words poured from my mouth as though I had recited them over and over again in my head; as if I had been preparing for this moment even though my underlying fears had refused to let me think about it. I told him of when we first met and how we had fallen in love. The memories seemed to crop up before my eyes and sometimes I almost laughed as I recalled the way he dove off the rock at the waterfall, and how he had comforted me in my moment of weakness there. Even as I told him of his own past, stories I had only heard spoken from his own lips, he remained immobile.

     His eyes became unfocused as he listened to the way Nerissa took him. When I spoke of the way she placed her blade within his shoulder, he flinched. Out of my mouth came the events of Nixie’s wedding, but when I got to our shared moment in the dungeon of Hyvar I found my own eyes searching the fog around us. Even now, I couldn’t look at him as I said the words.

     “You told me to leave and save myself if I got the chance,” I shook my head, drops of water falling over my eyes. “And I did. I left you to your fate and saved myself.” My tears had long since stopped, but that didn’t mean the knot of guilt had disappeared.  “Please, say something,” I pleaded and squeezed his arm.

     “What do you want me to say?” he asked, his voice softer in the rain than I had ever heard it. My betrayal was eating at him.

     I opened my mouth, but nothing came out as I tried to think of some way to ask him to forgive me. It was clear he didn’t remember anything I had told him; my fears had been well-founded. The pain of him knowing, and not remembering was ripping at my heart. The part I had thought I’d given up was still there, clinging to Patrick’s memory, hoping for just one second he would remember me as I was when we first met.

     “All you’ve done is lie to me,” he said, the words taking my breath away.

     “I know.”

     “How do I even know if you’re any different from Morven?” he asked, the words cutting deeper than I had expected.

     “You don’t. You’ll have to be the judge of that.” I said and he gave a harsh laugh of disbelief.

     Within an instant, I knew he was right. There was nothing about me that was any different from what Morven had done. I had been lying to him since the moment I first saw him.

     “I’m sorry,” I spoke softly, “and I know I shouldn’t have done it, and I tried to convince myself to tell you all the time, but I was too afraid.” That got his attention as he turned to me, his eyes burning with something I couldn’t name.

     “Of what?” he asked, his voice controlled.

     “That you wouldn’t remember when I told you,” admitting my worry didn’t make the pain any less harmful. “And then I was afraid of what would happen if you did.”

     His brow creased and what remained of his control was displayed on his face, as he looked into my eyes. His arms were beginning to shake, but I pressed on, knowing there was nothing else I could do.

     “I’m the reason you became Morven’s warrior,” my guilt weighed heavily upon my shoulders as the words fell from my mouth. “He used me, to get to you. He manipulated you into thinking I was dead, and that’s when you gave in.” The ache in my heart increased. “The night Bolrock attacked me, he told me what happened, of how you wouldn’t give in to Morven because you hung onto me. But when you thought I was dead, you gave up.”

     My hands shook—matching his arms—but I felt them as though from afar. I was somehow in control, even though the piercing ache in my chest festered to the point of almost breaking free.

     “You never wanted to be Morven’s. You were safe until I came along,” I inhaled shakily. “I’m the reason you became what you are.”

     Gathering my courage, I turned back to him and his mouth twitched when my eyes met his. There was something is his gaze I couldn’t understand, it drew me toward him and at the same time I knew if I leaned in, I would be pushed away. 

     His lips turned deep in a frown and I could only guess how fast his mind was churning through the things I had said. In one instant his expression betrayed confusion and the next it disappeared as his eyes glazed over and the mask of the warrior was in place. All innocence lost, he looked away from me once more.

     “So this whole time, you’ve been waiting for him to return?” he asked and I tried not to hear the ice in his voice.

     “No, well maybe some part of me. I don’t really know.” I admitted.

     “It’s why you called for him that night,” he said with complete conviction. I knew of what he spoke.

     I had hurt him, the night Bolrock attacked me, by crying out Patrick’s name. At the time, my mind had been focused on the image of Patrick being whipped in the dungeon of Hyvar, but my mouth had screamed out his name, over and over again as Bolrock hit me. The pain Zale had tried to hide from me that night was nothing compared to what I saw on his face now. He was defeated, betrayed, and by my own doing.

     The warrior beside me leaned forward, bracing his chained hands along the edge of the cliff and his broad shoulders seemed to slump beneath the weight of the rain.