To Scale the Emerald Mountain (The Willowbane Saga #1)

23. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ELLYA

M y restless sleep is disturbed by a light knock on my door.

As I’m roused, my tongue sticks to the roof of my dry, sandpapery mouth. I’m tangled in my blankets, and beams of sunlight stream through the windows, making me sweaty and uncomfortable.

The light rap comes again, more insistent.

“Go away!” Rolling over to a cooler spot on the bed, I curl under my blanket.

“I was hoping to accompany you to breakfast,” his silky-smooth baritone says clearly through the wood.

“I’m not going to breakfast,” I yell.

A beat—followed by, “Then I will have breakfast brought to us.”

Furiously, I untangle myself from my sheet and go to the door, throwing it open. “There is no us,” I snarl in Alec’s surprised face before slamming it back into place.

Burrowing back in my covers, I bury my head under a pillow, willing him to go away. I can still sense Alec standing outside, that gentle tug pulling deep in my gut. His sadness and disappointment permeate the air, even through the walls separating us.

My heart squeezes when I finally feel his aura retreating .

I wake again a couple hours later and notice a cart loaded down with food has been left. When I inspect it, the smell of pancakes makes me gag. My furious feet carry me to open the bedroom door. After it’s thrown wide, I return to the cart, grab the handle, and push it into the hall hard enough that it bounces against the opposite wall. I’m about to return to my room when a surprised voice stops me.

“Elly?”

Spinning quickly, I find Kraeston—obviously keeping watch at my door. He was invisible to me in my mission to rid my room of the smell of food. I stop short and tug the ends of my robe closer together. “Kraeston,” I reply shortly.

“You didn’t eat anything?”

“Don’t you have better things to be doing?” Deflecting, I narrow my eyes at him.

The soft expression of Kraseston’s face is at odds with his massive form and wild black hair piled on top of his head. He has the typical Quinndohsi accent and traits of dark eyes and dark brown sun-kissed skin. His complexion is richer than Alec and Locane’s with their mixed heritage. And where the twins are masculine, but polished, Kraeston is more rugged. Burn scars cover his hands, a typical trait of a Fire Wielder.

“You are everyone’s concern right now.”

Few memories of Kraeston are discernible, probably because I was almost always around him at the same times as Alec. But the ones I do have are fond. My dynamic with him was so similar with both of my older brothers.

My tone softens slightly. “I’m fine, Kraeston.”

“I’d be more willing to believe that if you’d eaten something, Princess.” He indicates his head towards the food cart. “Come on, Elly. If you want something else, go get changed, and I’ll take you down to the kitchen. Or I could take you to the little cafe you love so much.”

“You would take me outside of the palace?” I ask surprised.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t expect to be able to leave. Especially so soon,” I admit.

Kraeston smiles at me and tells me, “You are no prisoner here, Elly.”

“And the king would approve of this outing?” I ask cooly.

Kraeston scowls at me. “Obviously. And since when do you refer to him as the king ?“ he asks, dropping all previous softness to his voice.

“You referred to him as the king,” I shoot back, recalling how Kraeston didn’t use Alec’s name when telling me who I would be brought to.

“Because he is my king. And I felt the need to remind everyone last night of who’s wrath they would face if they breathed a word of what they saw before their memories were wiped.”

We face off for a short moment before I relent. “Going to a cafe sounds wonderful,” I admit. “But there’s a slight problem.”

Kraeston goes to retrieve me a change of clothes from a hibiscus bush in the pool courtyard, and thirty minutes later we are heading through the house towards an exit. We make our way down the staircase into the same wide ground level hall we came through just last night.

It seems like years have passed.

We go through the double doors under the porte cochere where two horses are saddled and waiting. I shoot a scowl at Kraeston. He obviously planned an outing.

“Would you like to walk, jump, or ride? ”

My answer is to hoist myself up into the saddle and take off at a trot. Kraeston catches up quickly, taking the lead. After we exit the gate at the end of the drive, I breathe deep. I’m invigorated by the airless feel of freedom—even though I do have an escort. My appetite hasn’t returned, but I couldn’t resist the urge to leave those pressing walls.

I soak in the sights of the city more today. Jewel toned tiles decorating ornate houses glitter in the daylight. We break through the line of shading palms leaving the residential streets, and I breathe in relief. Letting my eyes flutter closed, I bask in the hot sun.

This was a good idea.

The city is bustling. Merchants sell their wares in street carts, shopkeepers are sweeping their stoops and shining their windows. Restaurants have their walls of accordion doors open.

Kraeston explains to me that The Capital is a circular city with the palace sitting on the northern edge. I appreciate the reminder. I’ve spent a lot of time in Quinndohs, but almost all of it is murky.

Kraeston stops in front of a small cafe and dismounts his horse. He ties the reins off on a post before doing the same with mine and reaching out a hand to help me down.

“Why this one?” The quaint cafe is similar to many we passed along the way.

“Because it’s your favorite,” he says before opening the door and leading me in.

We sit at a small table in the back—Kraeston is comically large in the small space on the fragile wooden chair. My eyes glance around nervously.

Will anyone here recognize me? Will anyone come to inquire about how I’m doing after my kidnapping? Tell me how relieved they are that their future queen has been returned to safety ?

Future queen .

My throat is suddenly thick, and I push the thought down. I won’t be dealing with that right now.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Kraeston fills me in, “What transpired isn’t common knowledge with the people. But try to mask your surprise when the owner knows you,” he warns as a woman approaches us. She’s bearing two delicate teacups, printed with golden floral designs.

She smiles warmly at me, “Princess! I have not seen you in some time. So happy to see you back in The Capital.” I smile back at her, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. She doesn’t pry and sets the mugs in front of us. “What will it be today?”

Kraeston chimes in. “Just a plate of your fried dough. And all the dipping options.” Kraeston beams. “Our Elly needs a bit of a pick me up after some grueling travel,” he explains, reaching across the table to clap me jovially on the shoulder—producing a scowl from me.

“Ah, I understand. I’ll add a little extra coffee powder to the chocolate sauce.” She winks at me and saunters away.

Staring at my cup, the wisps of steam drift upwards. The scent of chamomile and peppermint hits my nose. It’s a warm morning for hot tea, but no matter the temperature I always take it steaming and sweet, extra honey.

These traits are a million miles away, like they belong to someone else.

My eyes sting.

I’m still staring blankly when large fingers appear in my line of vision and push the cup towards me, the porcelain scraping against the worn wood of the table. Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I don’t pick it up.

“Anything you want to do today, just say the word. But,” Kraeston says the last word with emphasis. “Only if you eat something. And if you want a different companion for today, that can be arranged.”

“And if I don’t want a companion at all?” My question is sharp as a needle.

“I don’t recommend an abundance of solitude right now, Princess.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No, but I’m saying it anyway.” He sighs. “I’m afraid if you want solitude, for now it will have to be at the palace.”

My grip tightens on my cup. “But I thought I wasn’t a prisoner?”

“Simmer down. You’re not, but you also don’t know this city right now. If you go wandering alone while everything is still so addled, you’d be lost in minutes.”

Kraeston does have a fair point. I think of all the things I might like to do—such as find new clothes—but exhaustion hits me. The thought of forced interactions with anyone else makes my tiredness increase.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

“I just want to go back to sleep,” I say quietly and take a small sip of tea.

“Whatever you need, Elly.”

The cafe owner comes back bearing a tray loaded down with fried dough and an assortment of mismatched ramekins. She sets it down and smiles warmly at me again. The rich scent of sweet, yeasted pastry and coconut oil hits my nose. As delicious as they smell, my stomach is unsettled and sick .

“Kraeston, please, tell Cescily I won’t be able to have that order ready when she requested. She knows to give me more warning than a midnight message the night before.”

At the name, a memory begins to beat against the protective glass over the blank spots of my mind. It knocks against it over and over. The relentless pressure makes my head heavy and pound with a stabbing pain until a tiny, relieving crack appears. A crack just large enough to allow a miniscule drop of ink to fall through, thick and cloudy.

Hanging off Alec’s leg—like one of the strange bears at the city menagerie in a tree—I look over at the dark-haired girl wrapped tight around his other. My matching messy buns bounce and Cescily’s long dark braid swings. Alec makes silly grunting noises of effort, barely lifting a foot to move forward. He pretends to struggle to walk down the bright, colorful halls of the palace with us weighing him down. We laugh and squeal with joy every time his exaggerated footfalls slam against the ground and make us shake.

Kraeston groans—pulling me out of my memory.

“Don’t do this to me, Norah. You know Cescily is the shoot the messenger type.”

Norah throws her hands up. “I was about to send word to her, but here you are, sent by the gods themselves to make my life easier.” She smiles and pats his cheek.

A warm drip of blood escapes from my nose as Kraeston yells after her, “I’d imagine we will need a bag to take these home. Good luck with that one as a sister-in-law,” he chuckles, handing me a napkin.

My head snaps up. “The waitress?” I ask, confused .

“No. Cescily.” Now Kraeston looks confused. “Gods, I knew you couldn’t remember much about Alec, but does it extend to the whole family?”

“How did you know my memories of the king haven’t come back?”

Kraeston knits his brow, dipping a pastry into caramel sauce and eats it in one bite. “Why do you keep calling him that?”

Because I can’t find it within myself to say his name.

“I asked how you knew about that,” I repeat.

“And I asked you to eat.” He nods at the dough balls. “Eat one, and I’ll tell you.”

“You’re bargaining with me?” My eyes narrow, incredulity coating my words..

“Absolutely.”

Begrudgingly, I pick up a pastry and dip it in chocolate. I shove the whole thing in my mouth and instantly regret it. My tongue is too dry, but I chew it as quickly as I can manage and forcibly swallow it down. I watch Kraeston expectantly.

“I know because I was present when Alec interrogated his brother.” Kraeston eats another ball and cocks his head. “Well, not so much an interrogation. You know how it is.”

My frustration bubbles. “I think you know that I don’t.”

“Think, Elly. You know what they can do.”

Alec didn’t interrogate Locane because he pulled the answers straight from his mind. He saw everything.

That means he saw…

Acid creeps up my throat, and I regret eating the one dough ball. It wasn’t worth the answer. My cheeks flush pink and I try to wrestle my coiling hot guilt back into submission .

I clear my throat. “Well, if that’s the method he used, then he must have told you himself.”

“He did. You don’t remember anything about Alec because Locane used dark magic to try to sever your mating bond. Though your memories of Alec haven’t come back, Locane did not succeed in his mission.”

The glow in my heart brightens, as if trying to prove Kraeston’s words.

Norah comes back with a paper bag and three small, lidded jars. She quietly deposits them on the table and takes her leave.

“I have no memories of his family either. They must be in with some of the blank spots. He is there in some of the gray; but not his face or his voice. Just this… presence.”

Kraeston nods slowly. “That makes sense. Locane wanted you to remember some things where Alec was involved in order to serve his purposes. He was meticulous.”

We’re silent for a few minutes before Kraeston asks if I have any other questions for him, and I tell him no—too drained and raw to properly think. Kraeston bags our mountain of uneaten food and leads me back outside. We mount our horses and make our way back to the palace silently.

I can’t decide if I feel better or worse than before we left.

I sleep for most of the day after Kraeston and I return to the palace.

A couple times, I wake up and roll over to see a new item on my nightstand, indicating someone has been in here. The first time, there’s a large glass of water and a ripe banana. I chug the water, ignore the banana, and roll over to go back to sleep .

The second time, I go to my bathing chamber to relieve myself. When I return to bed, a small vase with white jasmine spilling over the edge catches my eye. Next to it is another glass of water and an apple with a small jar of peanut butter—right next to the untouched banana. I stare vacantly at the obvious suggestion before I get back into bed.

I’m roused from fitful sleep by a light knock on the door. The blankets are wrapped around me in a constricting manner, and I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. The sky is darkening outside, and my mouth is parched. Untangling myself from the blankets takes work before I nestle back in, ignoring my visitor. I face the window with my back to the door and curl into myself, rolling my body into a tight ball.

A second knock comes, louder this time. “I am coming in.”

His voice is like warm silk being pulled over powdery sand.

Light from the hall illuminates the stone wall and refracts off the colored stained glass of the windows. The light closes to a sliver before disappearing, and the door snicks shut softly. My eyes squeeze closed.

Alec’s footsteps are soft and slow. Deliberate. They stop when they reach the bed, and I wait on bated breath before the mattress dips next to me when he sits. I try to swallow the ball of panic lodged in my throat.

Last night, I let Alec hold me while I cried, unable to fight the overwhelming need to have his closeness. I had no real control over my reactions—no fight to shy away from him, too engulfed with my grief and my pain to be aware of anything else. Today is different. The burn of shame that has threatened to take over during my waking moments rears its monstrous head in Alec’s closeness .

“I know that you are awake, Ellya.” He’s missing the pain that laced his words last night, his tone smooth and calm. I don’t move. I say nothing. “I know that you are upset with me.”

Reliving my anger now is superficial in the grand scheme of everything else warring within me.

Alec stands and rounds the bed, too quick for me to readjust before he’s facing me, pushing my hair back from my face. “I am so sorry, Ellya. You have no idea the sea of regret I am swimming in. I failed you.”

A single tear slips through my closed lids, and he brushes it away with a gentle, calloused thumb.

I’m the one who’s a failure.

True—Alec and Nana should have made me aware of what I might face, but that mistake doesn’t erase all their effort in teaching me to fight for myself. All their time and energy wasted when it mattered most. I’m not filled with the strength I had always thought that I was—that Nana and Alec had thought I was.

“Please, open your eyes.” Alec brushes my cheek softly again. Ungluing my eyes, I reluctantly do as he asks and peer up at him through swollen lids. Adoration and care shines brightly in Alec’s lively brown depths.

Just as a wave of calm starts to wash over me in his presence, my vision warps and suddenly I’m no longer in the bed of this warm and peaceful palace. I’m in a different bed with a face so similar, but so cruelly different, looking down at me with a sneer.

I gasp and scramble back, nearly falling off the bed.

As quickly as the scene before me shifted, it returns to my bedchamber in The Capital. Alec is beside me with concern washing over him. “Elly, what is wrong? ”

Blood exits from my nose, the warm liquid coating above my lip. The sight of the nosebleed isn’t surprising to Alec as he reaches into his pocket and produces a square of black cloth. He reaches to dab it away, but I flinch, and he stops immediately. Hurt flashes in Alec’s eyes, so quickly I wonder if I saw it at all. He instead extends the cloth for me to clean myself.

“Are you frightened of me?”

A metallic tang hits the back of my dry tongue, making me queasy. “No,” I answer him honestly. “I’m just having a hard time reconciling what’s real and what isn’t.”

Alec nods his understanding. “I do not know how much time it will take for the effects to diminish. To be under someone’s control like that for so long is unheard of. Please, know that I am here for you, my clove.”

“Why do you call me that?” I ask curiously, remembering when I got angry about him using the term of endearment right before everything turned upside down.

Alec chuckles. “I have called you that since you were a child.” He sits back down on the edge of the bed, watching me hopefully.

“But—why?”

A small smile graces his lips, and my heart soars at the lovely sight.

“Because you have always smelled like cloves. Only recently has the scent of jasmine developed along with it.” Alec nods towards the vase of flowers on the nightstand.

I wipe my nose with the black cloth again, unsure of what to say.

Alec’s gaze lingers on me. “What can I do?” I shake my head and cross my arms, folding in on myself as I turn away from him. “At least eat something. It has already been an entire day, and you have only taken one bite. When did you last eat before that? ”

When I don’t answer, Alec rises, standing in my line of view. I shy away from the sight and turn away from him; afraid that if I look at him his face will morph into the cruel lines of his brother; equally afraid that it won’t.

“Does it pain you that much to look at me?”

“Please, just leave,” I whisper, the threat of tears returning.

“No,” Alec says firmly. “Speak to me, Elly.”

My hand angrily dashes away a tear. “I have nothing to say to you.” Averting my eyes from him, I get up and walk to the bathing chamber, slamming the door behind me.

When I’m alone my vision tunnels—an odd hazy light blurring the edges. My hands don’t feel like my own. It’s like I’m seeing myself through someone else’s perspective, in such a similar fashion to one of my visions. My world tilts as I try to ground myself in my current reality. I stifle my cries, afraid that if Alec hears them he will come despite me telling him to leave.

Running the sink, I splash the cool liquid on my face. It helps clear my mind—but everything is surreal. I take in my reflection in the mirror, ignoring the sad state I’m in with my tired eyes, hollow cheeks, and dull hair. Instead, I pinch my cheeks, marveling in my ability to see what I’m doing but no sting radiates from my reddened skin. I do this for a couple minutes before heading to curl back up in bed.

My heart stutters, and I stop in my tracks when I see Alec still standing in the center of the room, a hand on his hip and the other massaging the back of his neck.

I falter a beat before growling with annoyance. “Fucking Mother, why are you still here?”

His head pops up. “Because I cannot bring myself to leave. ”

Alec’s honesty makes my gut clench. I’m overtaken by the crushing need to run to him. To wrap my arms around him, bury my nose in his chest, comfort him, ease his pain. Instead, I breeze past him and go back to the bed, burrowing myself under the covers.

Maybe he will take the hint.

Alec loosens a noise of frustration before coming to the side of the bed—snatching the blanket back forcefully.

“Hey!” I yell.

“You will eat something, Ellya, and then I will leave.” He gestures towards the fruit on my bedside table.

“You can leave now, or I’ll just blast you with electricity.”

“Go ahead,” Alec challenges. “It would not be the first time you tried.”

A fiery glare covers my face, but Alec doesn’t back down. He looks pointedly at the food again. I grab a pillow from behind me and throw it at his face. He catches it before it hits him and tosses it back on the bed.

“Anything else?” Alec crosses his arms across his broad chest and peers down at me expectantly.

Scoffing, I grab the banana, unpeel it, and shove half of it in my mouth in one bite. “There. Fucking leave,” I say through the thick mouthful.

“Swallow,” Alec’s deep voice commands, rumbling through me.

It makes my stomach do odd flips and my toes curl.

I do as he instructs before opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out wide for emphasis. Alec’s nostrils and pupils flare at the sight. He subtly bites his gloriously full bottom lip before nodding once and making his way towards the door. His long, powerful legs close the distance in just a few strides .

Alec pauses briefly in the doorway before exiting, banging the door closed behind him.