Relinquish(64)

I’ve been on the move for too long. Casting a glance toward the bathroom I realize how disappointed I am that there is no bath. At least not one with running water.

Vaguely I remember seeing a well in the center of the base and have no desire to cart buckets of water up two flights of stairs just for a bath.

Tugging a few snarls from my hair, I sink into the softness of the bed, too tired to care to rise so I can slip between the covers. I am asleep almost as soon as my head touches the pillow.



A deep shadow has fallen over the room as I open my eyes, grimacing at the pounding in my head. No, not my head. The door.

An insistent hammering breaks through the peace and quiet of the room, forcing me to rise. There is a chill in the room that makes me shiver as I stretch my arm toward the floor in search of my clothes.

“Go away,” I grunt as my fingertips brush against my pants.

“We need to talk. Open the door.” Bastien’s voice sounds off. I pause and look toward the door. Has he been crying? “Please let me in. I don’t want to have to break down my own door, but I will.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Bastien. I just want to be alone.” I loop my finger around my shirt and shove it down over my head. It feels stiff to the touch, reminding me of how badly I need a shower.

I hear him shift on the other side of the door. “I know I have no right to ask it of you, but I need a chance to explain.”

Pins and needles jab mercilessly at my feet as I plod toward the door. Even I know it wouldn’t take much for him to burst through. The door squeaks on its hinges as I open it and leave it ajar and return to the bed.

Bastien looks awful when he enters. The skin beneath his eyes is puffed and rimmed with purple. His eyes are bloodshot. His hair lies plastered to his head; dried blood still curves his forehead from his wound. His fists are red and bruised from pounding against my door.

“It’s your room,” I say, sweeping my hand before me. “Come on in.”

There is a definite measure of unease sitting in the pit of my stomach as he closes the door behind him, pausing to push the lock in place. I clasp my hands in my lap, determined not to let him get to me this time.

When he moves into the room, his steps are slow and stunted with a slight limp. I narrow in on his left leg and noticed a slash over his thigh that wasn’t there before. “How does the other guy look?”

He looks confused for a moment, then glances down at his leg. “Better than me, unfortunately.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I grow restless and shift farther back on the bed. Bastien stands before me, looking broken and uneasy. He lingers, buying himself time to weigh out my mood. “You came to talk, so talk.”

He clears his throat and moves toward a narrow, high-backed chair. It is wooden and without cushion, hardly suitable for comfort, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he perches on the edge, leaned forward onto his knees. He starts to speak, but I interrupt him. “How could you not tell me about her?”

He purses his lips, clenching his hands so tightly they appear void of color. “I didn’t know how to. Things between Niyah and me are… complicated.”

“Complicated?” My eyebrow arches with surprise. “That kiss didn’t seem all that complicated to me.”

Wincing, Bastien hangs his head. “I didn’t know she would be the one to meet us.”

“Yeah, those kinds of surprises really suck, don’t they?” I say pointedly, thinking back to the shock he gave me only three days before.

“I didn’t know she would show up like that. She’s never disobeyed my orders before.”

I snort and thrust myself back onto the bed, propping myself up with his pillows. I hadn’t noticed it so much before I fell asleep, but they smell just like him. “Oh, come on. She knows about our past, Bastien. Do you really think she wouldn’t want to mark her territory?”

His gaze hardens as he sits up. “How does she know? I never said—”

“You didn’t have to. She’s a girl. She’s not stupid. Besides, you of all people should know how rumors spread. Especially about the prophecy girl.”

He presses back into the chair, looking torn between wanting to remain seated or begin pacing a rut into the floor. “They shouldn’t call you that.”

“And yet they do.” I shrug indifferently. “It’s true though, isn’t it? I don’t get a say in what I want. My life has already been decided for me.”

“But Niyah…” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen her act like this. If I had known…” He trails off as he scratches at his hair. He draws his hand back and sees caked blood under his nails and lets his hand drop back to his lap.