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Chapter 13
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2022-02-26 00:22:46The last thing she manages to see before the carriage and Brendan grow too small for her to see with much clarity is the ring of bandits descending upon Brendan.
Alcina feels as though she cannot breathe.
Even as she clenches her eyes shut, she cannot stop visualizing the dark and determined light in Brendan's eyes, as he used his only moment of time to get Alcina astride their only chance at escape.
As he’d looked directly into Alcina's eyes, and told her not to get help, but to ride fast and don’t look back.
Brendan, the Shadowed Beast.
Brendan, the man who read a book on stars and constellations and the galaxy from cover to cover, retraced the lines until the pages thinned with his attentions.
Brendan, he who they call that born of all the terrible and dark things of the world, under his grim and detestable birthright.
Brendan, the man who’d rescued a useless and crippled wolf from certain death, a
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Brendan extends his hands to help her up, but, Alcina flinches back.Brendan’s hands are still in his beastly form, Hands turned into his claws, thick hair is covering the whole of his harms. Brendan looks at the terrified girl in front of him and at his extended hand.No wonder, what can he expect from her? One look at his beastly form – and whoosh - everybody starts to cover from him. And his wife-to-be is no different.He is not even in his full form, but here they are -The two of them ride back to the castle with complete, wordless silence, broken only by the constant clopping of the horse’s hooves on the floor.Alcina, seated in front of Brendan, Brendan’s arms around her to hold the reigns, cannot seem to stop shivering.But it is not even a particularly cold night.Brendan makes no comment on it, instead urging the horse to ride faster through the night.When they arrive at the castle, Brendan di
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Alcina awakens to a room that is not her own.In the light of day - sunlight streaming through wide-open windows, bathing the entire floor in a warm glow - it's almost unrecognizable.The entire room was immersed in the ghastly, inky blackness of earlier.Every inch of the four walls, the entirety of the floor, is bathed in thathorrifyingpitch darkness, gaping andimpossible to comprehend,terrifying.Slowly, still caught in between consciousness and that shadowy world of dreams, Alcina sits up, the silken sheets pooling at her waist.It's then that she notices she's laying under the covers at all and frowns blearily, trying to recall-Brendan's hand, wrapped loosely around her neck, his thumb resting just above Alcina's pounding pulse, his index finger tapping gently against the side of her neck in time with her beating heart-Alcina's eyes spring open, the memories of the night before returning in a
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After a brief moment in the morning, Alcina doesn't get another chance to speak with Lord Brendan for the remainder of the day.She'd hoped to catch him at dinner but finds that the man is entirely absent at dinner with little explanation.Forwhat she is looking for, the man, she hasn't yet planned; she just feels unsettled, as though there's an entire world left unsaid and unresolved, without any particularities thought out.Alpha Warner simply explains that Brendan had claimed business he must attend elsewhere.Alcina noticed that Alpha Warner's rumors of growing absentmindedness had not been exaggerated.It is no doubt true, then, that Lord Brendan must succeed his father's rule of the Western Plains in the next year, at best.As it is, she spends the dinner mostly looking down at her plate, wondering where it is that Lord Brendan could have had such urgent business to attend to.And when she catches herself with these
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"Then why are you weeping like a child who's had her favorite teddy stolen from her?"Alcina scowls.She catches the tug of an amused smile at the edge of Brendan's lips, and it makes a flush rise on her cheeks. "I am not a child," she mutters sourly."I just. I have been- I just. There was a letter," Alcina finally says lamely, explaining absolutely nothing about their current circumstances.She's been sold off like a particularly unwanted cattle by her family to the man. The man they only whisper about cautiously in the safety of their own homes, as the nightmare ghost in human form.She has had to leave everything, her home, belongings, and the only family she has ever known and loved.And had to come to these unfamiliar lands, which she had long thought would be a terrifying lair fit for a monster.She has been entrapped by terrifying bandits nearly lost her life. And then witnessed other men lose theirs in a display o
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That night, Alcina stays up late once more, organizing the genuinely astounding number of parcels she now has in her room. And wonders had she indeed purchased this many things. She's halfway through organizing some of the items on her dressing table when she hears it. This time, that quiet, muffled whimper all the louder for how acutely her sense is attuned to the sound. This time, she wastes little time in letting herself through the door. And she realized, then, that while she can lock her side, Lord Brendan cannot. She starts wondering what the implications are that the man had prepared an acknowledged cagefor himself to be locked into. When she sees the floors and walls, once more, covered in that endlessblackness, again, she can't help the fear that rushes up inside of her as if a dam had broken. But she cannot leave Lord Brendan as he is, in whatever pained hell he has trapped himself into-
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Alcina wakes first.This time, she awakens with the immediate and keen awareness of precisely where she is. That is not her own bed, but the one she'd just shared with Lord Brendan.Lord Brendan, who is evidently still asleep when Alcina looks to her right.Alcina can't help but to stare.In sleep, the lord's features seem impossibly young - with none of the heavy presence that bears on him like an ever-present weight when the lord is awake.It's something about his eyes, Alcina thinks; those dark, fathomless depths that speak of years much, much beyond the lord's age of twenty-five.And there's a fascination here, too, of being permitted to observe such a feared man up close like being allowed into a tiger's den when the ferocious tiger is declawed in its slumber."If you leaned in any closer, one would think it ismyperson people should worry about, rather than yours,"Lord Breandan's low, rough timber - pitched mo
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Brendan's never slept so well in the twenty-five years he's been alive, as he does now.Brendan had learned early on that being able to control something did not mean the same thing as being immune to those same terrors. Born with theGiftof being permitted to command all those wraiths, terrors, and horrors that haunt the minds of men, made him suffer the same every day.Most nights, ever since he'd personified his Gift as a young child, he'd found his dreamless sleep plagued by the same terrible things that he can command unto others.As he'd explained to Alcina, these shadows cannot kill him the way he can kill others with them.But it does not change the fact that he nearly dreads sleep with the anticipation of an endless, all-consuming despair each night.Even if the terrors don't visit him every night, the nights when he is given the brief reprieve, he spends trembling in fear, teeth grit and back ramrod straight, bracin
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Alcina wakes up in the morning alone, as she has grown used to in the nights since she'd begun to sleep in Brendan's bed. The lord, it would seem, is an incredibly early riser. She finds out from Mary that it is because Lord Brendan has swordsmanship practice with Commander Lincoln most mornings. As it is, the piece of information sparks the beginnings of an idea in her mind. She can't stop remembering what it had felt like to be so utterly helpless. When all she'd found herself able to do, was clutch desperately at the horse's reigns that had carried her away from Brendan, where he stood fending off the bandits on his own. How even when she'd returned, she'd found herself at their attackers' terrifying mercy (or lack thereof), with nothing to defend herself with. Alcina had never been permitted the opportunity to take up the sword as her elder brother had. A runt like her, after all, could not be permitted anywhere near the ba
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“And how long has she been here?” Brandon asks, just as the others arrive at the cell.He can hear a sharp intake of breath; Alcina.“Oh, a few days, I reckon,” Lincoln shrugs casually, his hand still holding the girl’s neck to the wall in a brutal grip. “I’m afraid I’ve lost count, as I’ve been down here all the while.”For a man like Commander Lincoln, sleep is but a trifling and unnecessary luxury.When a man like Lincoln has a prey set in his sights, he does not need such a thing as sleep.Even for days on end."I caught her trying to slip into your study," Lincoln says. The girl comes to life momentarily, struggling against the grip on her neck, but grows limp when Lincoln simply tightens his hold anew without even batting an eye.“I’d hoped to be able to have a nice, civilized conversation with our friend here,” Lincoln sighs, sounding as though it were nothing more than a matter of some friendly gossip. “Without needing to call you here, but.”“She has not been forthcoming,” Alf
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There is little time for pleasantries, in light of the note.Brandon does not know what could have possessed Lincoln to send such a note, nor are there any details to be gleaned from its contents: a precautionary measure, given how often such notes are wont to be intercepted in travel.Still, he knows that there is very little - almost nothing at all - that the Commander is not entirely equipped to handle on his own, short of the very war coming to their doorsteps, such that he would be forced to call for Brandon's return.Let alone demand him to bring Lord Alfred, as Lincoln had so alluded.It makes Brandon slip seamlessly into the shadows, for even the scant extra moments it would take to travel by foot is a luxury they do not seem to have.* * * * * * * * * *In the end, it is a lean retinue of the Lords and two soldiers from the Heartlands, that are to make their departure for the Western Plains.Given that the Western Plains are directly en route to the Ranges, Percy and Darla wi
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Alcina wakes up alone.It’s enough to startle her, even trapped as she is in that dull haze of the moment in between sleep and consciousness; enough, that she sits up, blearily rubbing one eye. “Brandon?” she calls blindly, voice rising in pitch to come out just the tiniest bit plaintive.Brandon steps out from the ensuite doorway, then, and Alcina turns her head in his direction, still rubbing sleepily at one eye.Brandon has evidently just stepped out of the shower, clad in a black silken robe, tied loosely at the waist and splayed open around his upper body. Alcina, still dazed from sleep, watches the way water droplets continue to drip down from Brandon’s damp locks, trailing down his neck and splattering onto the floor.When her eyes return to Brandon’s face, she finds Brandon wearing a small smirk, dark eyes intent and amused. Brandon raises a slow brow.Had Alcina been more awake, she might have had the presence of mind to be embarrassed at having been caught staring.But at th
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Alcina gasps violently awake.Her hands fly to her neck.But her neck is fine. There are no hands curled around them, like manacles pressing the very life out of her with each squeeze. There is no soldier, eyes wild with the adrenaline rush of a battle, forcing her onto the ground to choke her into an eternal slumber.But there are, Alcina dimly realizes, soldiers.All around her.They seem to be swarming in, from far away, but bringing with them a panicked sense of urgency, all the same.From-Alcina stiffens.The marble floors, the elegant pillars, the limp body of-Elton.She is-Alcina is in Elton’s fortress.The thought of it brings the immediate, surging terror for- Brandon-!Alcina whirls around, nearly stumbling with the force of it. And then she sees him.Brandon, here this time, strapped to the pillar behind him with massive, heavy iron chains. Brandon, pale and gaunt and dripping crimson, everywhere-“Brandon!” the cry tears itself out of Alcina’s throat, a wild and devasta
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“You would wage a war, For my daughter?”Brandon’s gaze flickers up to meet Duches's eyes, wretchedly amused.“Madame,” he laughs, low and dark, and in it, she hears something ruinous.This man, she realizes then, is one who would wage not one war, but thousands of wars, all in the name of devotion to her daughter.“I would do far more than fight a war, for your daughter,” he says, condescension laced into every word, lips parting to reveal a cold and predatory, calamitous facsimile of a grin. “and I would win it.”And as the Duchess stares into Lord Brandon’s face, she discovers, that there is something frightening like no other nightmare in the world could replicate, in a devotion like this. An ardent, zealous, terrifying brand of devotion, one that is more befitting of a creature they call the Shadowed Beast than a man.For better, or for worse.The man - the monster - to whom she had bartered off her own daughter, with thoughts of a hundred and thirty thousand lives, and hundreds
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Nordin, after all, had been Alfred’s closest friend all throughout their childhood and had been there when Alfred underwent his own grueling training with the Duchess.He had been the one person whom Alfred allowed to see all those cracked and broken parts of himself and had been the person who had mended Alfred and made him whole each time.Nordin has had to put one Clair back together and does not fancy having to pick up the pieces of another one after all this time.Years ago, when Nordin had only been thirteen and Alfred eleven, and Nordin had had to put the broken pieces of Alfred back together after his mother’s training--Thirteen-year-old Nordin had looked at Alfred, then, wearing a soft and kind smile despite the pain that had been wrought upon him by virtue of a terrible and harsh world--And that is the moment when Nordin had decided that he would become strong enough to ensure no man would be able to hurt Alfred again.That for Alfred- the boy who spoke of those mysteries
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In the morning, Alcina wakes earlier than her husband.It is not often she gets to experience such a luxury, given that Brandon is the early riser between the two of them. But occasionally, on mornings like this, Alcina has the privilege of waking before Brandon, and looking over to see her husband’s face smoothed with slumber.Alcina had never thought she’d grow to adore another’s features the way she has Brandon’s.It is an endless fascination for him, one that she could spend hours tracing the lines and dips and curves of, without end. Even now, Alcina turns and shuffles a little closer, pillowing her head on one arm while her other reaches up of its own accord, fingers reaching out to-She stills.Her fingers, still outstretched towards the slope of Brandon’s nose, hover uncertainly in mid-air. They twitch, before she brings her hand back to tuck tightly against her own chest, biting her lip.Alcina stares at Brandon, now, the man who had fearlessly and lovingly grasped the very h
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When Alcina manages to trudge her way to her room in the palace, she has hardly made it past the doorway when Brandon is instantly at her side.Brandon grips her by the shoulders, expression blank but eyes almost frantic in the way they run over her frame from head to toe, as though cataloging any possible injuries. And then, at last, Brandon lifts a hand to rest gently along Alcina’s cheek.Alcina shudders and sinks into it, sighing. “I half feared the Duchess may have buried you somewhere in the courtyard, and I would have to go digging for my wife,” Brandon drawls, teasing and insouciant but with genuine worry in his eyes when Alcina peers up at him.Alcina manages to muster a scowl, though she loses the energy for it right after.Drained, Alcina allows Brandon to help her change into her silken pajamas and guide her right to bed, where Alcina sinks gratefully into the pillows. “I really ought to shower,” Alcina murmurs uselessly, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “I’m quite disgust
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The courtyard is a ruined wasteland.Everywhere the eye can see, the ground is shattered into nothing more than rubble, uneven and dusty and jagged with uneven footing.But there is one woman who maintains perfect balance, even as the ground shakes violently underneath her precarious red heels: the Duchess, hair flawlessly coifed with not a single strand out of place, even four hours into their training session.She lifts her chin, and a massive, tapered boulder, narrowed to a lethal point, separates itself from the ground.And then, it goes shooting forward, soaring through the air to hurtle towards the two figures hovering in the sky. Alcina sees it coming and grits her teeth as Orion dives sideways in a spinning tumble to avoid it.The Duchess straightens up.All of a sudden, the ground falls still.The silence that follows feels oddly deafening in Alcina’s ringing ears, after hours of its cacophonous din. She, too, straightens up, peering down at her mother in confusion. The Duc
