Broken

She forced her eyes open. It took a moment to focus and it wasn’t perfect, but near the source of the light- the window-she saw him. She squinted, trying to see more clearly. The very sight of him made her heart leap in her chest. She wanted to jump out of the bed and crash into his arms, but the slightest adjustment under the covers was painful so she reconsidered. Instead, she watched him sleep peacefully.

He slouched in a dark blue upholstered chair with his head leaning precariously to one side. It couldn’t have been comfortable, yet he slept. His appearance seemed a little off to her-not as she remembered. His hair appeared to be straighter and several strands flopped over his eyes as they caught the air flowing in from the window. He’d always had a bit of stubble on his face, but now wore a scruffy beard a shade or two darker than his hair.

He wore black pants made of a loosely woven fabric and a white tunic with puffy sleeves. The laces hung loose, leaving the neck gaping open. The cuffs were rolled up midway between his wrist and elbow and around his waist he wore a thick black belt, leaving several inches of shirt fabric hanging out the bottom. His boots reminded her of an English riding boot with their slick polished leather rising almost to his knees-his pants tucked into the top.

She flexed the muscles in her back to see if her memory of Zerek’s whip was a dream, but met with the painful reality of his sadistic torture as her wounds brushed against the pillow and sheet below her. She pulled her rope-burned wrists out from under the blankets, wincing when the muscle in her shoulder tensed, reminding her of the knife she’d taken there. She tried to distract herself from the memories by focusing on the strange room in which she lay.

Near the bed was a small table with a single ceramic cup and pitcher. Water. Her throat felt as though she’d swallowed a handful of sand. She pushed up on one elbow to reach for the cup. Every muscle ached. Her arm trembled as she took the tiny vessel in her hand and pulled it to her lips. Empty. And the pitcher may as well have been a five gallon bucket of led. No way could she lift it. She put the cup down, but before she lay back on the pillow, she gave it a fluff so her head would be more elevated. When she repositioned herself, she twisted slightly to see more of the room. The enormity of it took her by surprise.

A large wooden dresser sat against the wall near where Octavion slept. Much wider than it was tall, a pile of white linens and an array of bottles littered its top. Octavion’s concoctions.

Footsteps approached from the other side of a large door opposite the bed. She pulled the covers to her neck and waited. The only thing keeping her from being terrified was Octavion’s presence. She trusted no one, not yet.

The door slowly opened and a beautiful young girl with long brown hair walked in, her footsteps now light and almost undetectable. Smaller than Kira, she wore a simple tan dress that bordered in design somewhere between Renaissance and prairie pioneer. It covered every part of her except her neck, head and hands. She also wore a long white apron which added a certain rustic charm to her costume. If Kira wasn’t sure she was in Xantara, she’d assume she’d stepped back in time a few hundred years.

Kira relaxed as the girl went to the dresser and placed the small bowl she carried next to the linens. Her hair swayed from one side to the other as she adjusted the bottles and thumbed through the linens, counting them under her breath. When she’d finished, she turned and walked toward Kira, not realizing she was awake until she reached for the water pitcher. The girl’s eyes widened in surprised and she froze in her steps, half leaning toward the table near the bed. She slowly straightened and took a step toward Octavion.

Kira grabbed for her, missing by several inches. “Don’t wake him,” she whispered. “Let him sleep.”

The girl looked at Octavion and then back at Kira. “But he will be angry.” Her voice was sweet-a little higher than Kira’s with an accent that sounded like a cross between Australian and Irish. Her beautiful brown eyes shone with sincerity and Kira liked her instantly.

Kira smiled. “He’ll get over it.” She tried to push up on her elbow again, but before she even made half the effort the girl stepped to the side of the bed to help her. “May I have some water?”

The girl nodded.

Kira glanced at Octavion to make sure he still slept. “Why is he so pale? He looks awful.”

The girl sighed. “He refuses to eat until you are able.”

“How long have I been here?”

“It is the evening of your ninth day in Xantara.” She poured some water into the cup and held it to Kira’s lips.

Kira drained it and handed it back to be filled again. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “My name is Ussay. Are you hungry?”

“What a beautiful name.”

Octavion took a deep breath and adjusted slightly in his chair. Both girls held their breath as they watched him for a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t waking, then continued to whisper. Kira secretly wished she could share her thoughts with Ussay, like with Lydia.

Lydia!

“Lydia. Where is she? Is she all right?” Kira asked.

Ussay put a finger to her lips. “Shh. It is forbidden to speak her name, my lady.” Ussay went to the dresser and retrieved the small bowl she’d carried into the room. “Octavion asked me to prepare this in case you woke. It is Kostai and will give you nourishment.” She took a small spoonful and put it up to Kira’s mouth.

Kira caught a whiff of the mixture and it made her stomach churn. It smelled like dirty gym socks. She pushed it away. “Tell me about Lydia. I need to know where she is.”

Tears welled up in Ussay’s eyes as she turned her focus to Octavion. She took in a deep breath and let it out slow. She leaned in close to Kira. “To speak of her is forbidden and the punishment severe. I cannot risk my station here at the castle. I am sorry, my lady.”

Ussay’s words were so soft, so hushed, Kira barely heard them. But she knew their meaning. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Ussay nodded. “I am sorry. I know you were good friends.”

Pain shot through Kira’s heart like someone held it in their clenched fist. She pressed her fingers against the spot on her chest, feeling both relief and fear. Altaria’s still with me.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered that day in the canyon-before her torture had begun, before everything had changed. The moment when Lydia thrust her kindred spirit, Altaria, into Kira’s body-hoping to save Kira from the beast Al had become after catching the scent of Kira’s blood. But now Al was trapped inside of her- without voice, without any way to communicate-neither Altaria nor Kira were truly free.

Ussay put her hand on Kira’s shoulder. “Shall I wake him?”

Kira shrugged out from under Ussay’s grasp and turned away. “No. I wanna be alone.”

Ussay stepped away from the bed and curtsied. “Yes, my lady. I will wait outside the door until you need me.”

Kira didn’t want to cry-she’d done enough of that while being held captive-but the tears continued to flow freely, despite her efforts to stop them. For several minutes she silently sobbed into her pillow, hoping and praying she’d misunderstood Ussay’s words. When the tears finally slowed, she felt numb and drained of all her energy. She knew some of the sorrow she felt belonged to Altaria, which made it worse.

She wiped the moisture from her face and adjusted her position so she could get a better view of Octavion. She hadn’t noticed before, but the knuckles on his right hand were scabbed. Now what have you done? The very idea of him getting hurt and her not having the power to heal him weighed heavy on her mind. With Lydia gone, Kira would miss the powers of the Crystor. She’d miss all of it-the strength, the healing, the enhanced senses-but especially her friend. She wondered if Lydia suffered a painful death, which only brought more tears.

Octavion moaned and rubbed his neck, but didn’t wake.

Kira closed her eyes, hoping he’d stay asleep, but then she heard the chair scoot across the floor and the shuffle of his boots. She looked up to find him standing in front of the window, staring out-his profile drawn and weary.

Kira swallowed the lump in her throat. “Is it as beautiful as you remembered?”

Octavion’s head jerked toward her and their eyes met. “Kira?” A million emotions washed over his face as he flew to her side and pulled her into his arms. His chest rose and fell like his heart would explode. This was the moment she longed for, to be held in his arms and feel him all around her. She buried her head against his chest and breathed him in. Oh, how she missed him.