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

26. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ALEC

I have not killed anyone for many years, until today.

This morning, I woke clear minded without the lingering effects of alcohol for the first time in months. I went straight to the cells in the dungeon, propositioning the Kingdom’s most dangerous criminals. Their choices were continuing to wait for trials, or face off with their king, any survivors free to go with all charges cleared.

They all foolishly took me up on the offer.

It was mere minutes before I was surrounded by bodies, my face and bare chest flecked with blood. There is only one left of the seven still breathing, and only because in the beginning of the fight I destroyed his mind, reducing his mentality to that of nothing more than an infant. He has since been laying on the ground in a puddle of his own piss, wailing loudly like a babe.

After I gut the final man, tearing him open from belly to sternum—his innards trailing to the ground—I prowl to the sad heap and slide the blade of my sword across his throat.

The killing is a mercy .

The fight was too easy, the men had no skill. Still, I relish in the blood. The death at my hands temporarily quells my anguished rage, steadily eating away at everything I am.

I was so hopeful that maybe Ellya was ready to let me in during our conversation a couple days ago. I felt her restlessness, her need to be near me. It caused me physical pain to not go to her; to respect her boundaries and wait for her to seek me out. The tiny light that had flickered back to life the night she returned has not grown past the small ember smoldering, but that day I felt it trying to burn.

When Ellya walked through the door, she did not notice that I was there—that I was watching her perusing the bookshelves. The heaviness that surrounds her these days had momentarily relinquished some of its weight.

My gaze locked on Ellya as I imagined coming up behind her and collecting her in my arms. I imagined her eyes fluttering closed, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she lay her head against my chest, returning my hold. Accepting me.

Accepting us.

My words were caught in my throat. I knew I should have said something, let her know that I was there. But I was too entranced, not wanting to break a moment where she did not seem so sad. When Ellya’s eyes finally met mine, they held relief. And that relief remained for nearly an hour before something set her off.

She withdrew from me again and insinuated that if given the choice, she would not choose me.

To be taken in the arms of the Lady of Death in that moment would have been a blessing.

As soon as I left her chambers, I applied a glamour and went to a bar nearby. After getting disgustingly drunk, I purposely started a fight, disfiguring some poor, undeserving soul by smashing a glass bottle against his cheek for a minor offense. I then destroyed half the bar brawling with several men who tried to break up the fight before I was arrested and brought to my own dungeon below the palace—bloodied and bruised. It was less than a thought to free myself and trudge back to the study that has become its own kind of prison cell in the last several months.

When I arrived, I drank more.

Even since Ellya returned, I have continued to stay in the study most of my time, knowing she is behind that door.

All I want is to be near her.

If I had stayed with Ellya that first night, like Mhaylene suggested, would things have been different? If I had been there, holding her, when she woke, would she be allowing me to hold her while she sleeps now? Would she allow me to bury my face in her hair, her skin, and breathe her in?

I crave for her scent to flood my senses. The palace is now filled with multiple vases of jasmine, and I took up the habit of smoking clove cigarettes. But it all smells and tastes artificial compared to Ellya’s liveliness.

I am a fucking fiend.

My mother woke me in the early dawn hours the next morning after the catastrophic encounter, kicking my leg multiple times to rouse me. I had passed out leaning against the door of my study leading into Ellya’s chambers. I do not remember settling there.

When I finally began to wake, my mother pulled the nearly empty bottle of liquor from between my legs.

“This is not helping you, Alec,” she said gently.

Swiping the bottle back, I took a long swig. “It is helping me,” I growled.

My mouth was as dry as the desert outside—my eyes stung and swam in the bright morning light.

My mother sighed with disappointment. “It’s not,” she said with more firmness. “And I fear that you are walking a fine line with old habits.” She snatched the bottle again as I lifted it for another drink, grumbling a weak denial.

“Just to be sure, should I call for Caison to come and remind you what that looks like to those who love you? What that would look like to her?” Mother asked me seriously, nodding her head towards Ellya’s door.

My head hung shamefully. “No, Mother. That is not necessary.”

“I know that you’re hurting, but this won’t help.” Mother shook the bottle in front of my face, its contents sloshing offensively. “This will only prolong your dealing with the inevitable.”

“You have no idea what I am feeling,” I spit at her. It has been a struggle not to lash out at everyone near me lately—much like Ellya.

“No, I don’t. But I do know that you are hurting. For many reasons.” She watched me knowingly, and I turned away.

“When I agreed to marry your father, I was made aware of what may befall him, what may befall my children. I still chose my path happily. Don’t think that has made watching Locane deteriorate any easier for me. It has hurt my heart far greater than I could have expected. He has done things I never would have imagined possible for him.”

She sat in front of me on the floor, forcing me to face her. “I know that your anguish is only partly due to Elly’s hurt and rejection, but you are clinging to that rejection trying to avoid the truths of your brother’s betrayal. You must face it, Alec. Nothing will get better until you do. Grieve and be angry, but face it. ”

Swallowing thickly, I turned over her words. I have not allowed myself to think of Locane much since I pulled the memory of his treachery from his mind. Every time I let my mind stray towards him, I go back to that gut wrenching scene where their lips meet, and my mind wanders to dark places with the parts that followed—the ones that I refused to let him keep.

That is when I reach for the bottle.

“Has anyone else seen him?” I asked.

“Caison and I went a few days ago. He was just as cruel to us as I’m sure he was to you. Although, I know that’s no consolation.” My younger brother Caison was born during the same fertility boom and was close with Locane and I growing up.

Mother fiddled with her long, golden braid, deep in thought. None of her children inherited her fair hair and skin or blue eyes. None of us really look like her at all, the whole brood favoring our late father with his dark Quinndohsi features.

“What if she truly does not want me anymore? What if a part of her does want him now, despite all that he has done and his motivations?” Emotion coated my voice as I recalled Locane’s memory at the port right before they were found.

The way Ellya looked at him; much the same as she used to do me.

“Don’t torture yourself with those lies, Alec. You know that’s not true. You saw the lie of it for yourself.”

“Elly told me yesterday she can never forgive me for not having a choice in me.” I tried to swallow down the hurt that came with the admission, but my chest seemed to be caving in on itself.

“I suppose that’s the reason for your current state? She may feel like that right now, but she won’t forever. I have never heard of a single instance where true mates reject each other long term. Nothing can undo what the Fates have decided.”

“I do not know what to do, Mother.”

She smiled at me and took my hand. “You had quite the buildup and then a night to fully wallow in your self-misery. Now, be what she needs. No matter what that means. And above all, be honest with yourself and with her. Elly will come back to you, my son.”

Mother smiled and kissed me softly on the forehead like she did when I was a boy. She stood, extending her arm to me to help me up. Standing too quickly, I stumbled and realized I was still mostly drunk.

“Go sleep it off. In a real bed. Tomorrow is a new day.”