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

32. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ELLYA

I ’ve lost track of how much time has passed since my dreadful conversation with Alec.

My spare time is filled in my room, trying to reawaken the spool of power that holds my Sight. It’s still rigid and unrelenting which only frustrates me more.

Nana insists trauma can deeply affect magic. I insist that I’m not traumatized.

At least she has finally stopped sleeping in my room. I haven’t had any nightmares in weeks. My reality still warps occasionally, but it’s getting easier to pull myself out of. The nosebleeds have eased. The headaches have not.

My fighting techniques are getting sloppy and erratic.

My restlessness is becoming unbearable. Where I used to want nothing but to lay in bed all day and not think, these days I can’t make myself sit still. Trying to sleep is physically painful.

When I try, my legs scream at me to move, the muscles burning with my stillness. I’ll rub my legs together to try to soothe the edge, but it doesn’t help. I end up punching them, just trying to get the crawling sensation to settle before I eventually give in to the need to be standing, moving, doing .

I haven’t read any more of the books Alec left for me and refuse to think of the gems of the gods. During a night of pacing, my eyes kept darting to the Rayveesh myths, and I got so furious at the sight that I ended up throwing it in a linens closet in my bathing chamber to keep from wanting to rip it apart.

I turn down all Kraeston’s offers to venture into the city after I epically fail to produce worthwhile electric currents every single day.

Food is becoming difficult to handle again. My stomach churns and pumps poisonous bile up my throat, burning everything it touches along the way and leaving my throat raw and scratchy.

I’m becoming jumpy and have reverted to avoiding everyone, not just Alec, whenever possible to do so. I can’t stand the alarm that crosses over everyone’s faces when I’m around, even Kraeston’s.

It makes me want to smash my fist through a wall.

Alec tries to see me every day. He knocks and announces who it is; I tell him to fuck off.

Sometimes he does. Sometimes I sense him sitting outside the door for hours, not trying to hide that he’s there like I suspect he has in the past.

Sitting at the vanity in my bathing chamber, I stare at my reflection. Black kohl runs down my face in messy tracks from not washing it off the night before. I pinch my cheeks, trying to hone in on the sting, but I can’t seem to find it.

After laying a towel in my lap, I pick up the dagger I’ve begun using in my daily ritual of pricking my fingers. I go through the motion of sticking each one, watching the skin heal over smoothly. I suck in a sniffle and rub my thumb across my nose, streaking blood above my lip .

Pinching my cheeks in my reflection again, I still feel nothing. Placing the blade back in my hand, I bring the tip to the crook of my left arm and drag down, down, down.

A ragged breath sucks in at the thick stream of blood that seeps through the wound. I marvel at how quickly the flesh knits back together. When the seam seals itself at my wrist, I wipe the dripping blood from my arm with the towel.

Loud footsteps thunder through my bedchamber.

Swiftly opening a drawer, I drop the blade and the towel on top of it before sliding it closed. My head turns in time to see Alec bang open the door, searching the room frantically with fear in his eyes.

“I thought…” he starts, looking around confused.

“You thought what? You could barge in here unannounced?” I demand cooly.

Alec scans the room again and sniffs the air. “You are bleeding.”

“Another nosebleed.”

Alec takes in the streak above my lip skeptically before leaving with obvious reluctance.

It’s a warm day.

After practicing my currents in the stifling desert, I managed to down a cup of tea and piece of dry toast for lunch. Nana handed me my ass during training, causing me to scream and threw my staff at the rack of weapons, knocking it over to send the assortment of staffs rolling across the pitch with a deafening clatter.

Nana then suggested we should take a break tomorrow. I asked her when she would be setting sail for Bokhaii .

I’m pacing my room after my sad excuse of a meal, rearranging pictures and small plants when a knock comes at my door. “Fuck off, Alec!”

“Good thing it’s not Alec!” a feminine voice calls out.

Cescily.

I run to the door and throw it open. “Sorry. I thought you were your brother.”

“I heard. No worries, Elly. Come, I’m taking you out.”

“Why?”

“Because you are shutting yourself in again and you’re getting manic,” Cescily answers honestly. I glare at her. “Please? Whatever you want to do.”

“You’re sure your brother will allow it?” I ask her unfairly.

“I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Anything I want?”

“Anything.”

“Let’s go get drunk.” Striding to my exposed wardrobe, I pull off my dirty training clothes. I exchange them for a light blue dress made of multiple layers of sheer fabric that swishes against my legs, the neckline plunging deep between my breasts.

I pull on my new knee-high boots of soft brown leather. They lace from the ankle all the way up to the knee. They’re magicked to feel like you’re padding across soft spring grass and allow me to channel energy from the earth while wearing them as if I was barefoot. They cost as much as a small house, but Cescily insisted I get them. She kept reminding me that between my king father and my king mate, I’m one of the wealthiest women on the Continent.

I do love them.

Using my fingers, I fluff my lilac hair in the mirror once and turn to Cescily. “I’m ready. ”

Her eyebrows are in her hairline, but she says nothing when she grabs my hand and we fade into darkness, reappearing on a busy street, still in the Vahnsing District. The silhouette of the palace looms behind us.

“There’s a tasteful wine bar over here. I like to come here when I need something a little more low key.” Cescily smiles at me and squeezes my hand in hers, warm and reassuring, before leading the way.

We enter into a small establishment with dark wood floors and tarnished mirrored walls. A large crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room. The ambiance is not in the traditional style of The Capital and reminds me more of something you would find in Crane Hills of Brhadir. The bar is mostly empty and we take a small table in the corner. Cescily orders a sampler for both of us and we wait.

She watches me with a guarded face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

The waiter brings our drinks and I throw back the first two, not bothering to smell or taste or whatever the Mother fuck you are supposed to do with wine.

“You’re not doing well,” Cescily says gently.

“I am just fine.”

“I know that you and Alec had an intense conversation. Would you like to talk about it?”

I throw back another glass, a perfect mixture of bitter and sweet, and signal for more. An intense alcohol soaked buzz is already flowing through me.

When the waiter comes back with my second sampler, Cescily kindly says to him, “Can we get whatever appetizer you have that is prepared the quickest? ”

“I’m not hungry.” My words are slurred. “And no, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Cescily sighs and holds my hand. “That was a stupid question. I know you don’t want to talk about it, Elly. But you need to.”

My pale hand reaches for another glass of wine, but she pulls the tray away from me.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything in particular, Elly. I want you to say what’s on your mind—what’s on your heart.” She squeezes my hand in hers. “Please, I love you, and I want to help you. In whatever way I can.”

I worry my lip and shake my head, unable to find any words.

“It is cruel. All that time and effort and love decimated over greed and selfishness. By someone who Alec loves and cherishes nearly as much as you. And the fact that your captor wears the same face as the man you’re destined to spend your life with is beyond cruel. It is well and truly fucked.”

The food arrives and Cescily loads a large piece of pita bread with creamy dip. I shake my head, but she gives me a sharp stare of insistence.

“Your spiraling is only exacerbated by your refusal to accept your mate’s comfort.” I open my mouth to argue, and Cescily raises her hands, as if in surrender. “I know. This is not me trying to convince you to run to Alec with open arms. I’m not saying you need to go complete your mating. I’m only saying, let him be there for you.”

My chair scrapes as I push to my feet to leave.

“Sit the fuck down, Elly.” Cescily’s tone is stern and commanding

I sway and plop back down on the seat, utterly deflated .

“I’m not afraid to make you angry or hurt your feelings,” she tells me seriously. “Your restlessness will continue to grow the longer you deny his comfort, the longer you deny yourself comforting him . Let yourself heal. Alec loves you—and you once loved him dearly. If that love is truly no longer there for you anymore, we will deal with that later. But right now, you need to face your feelings because you are drowning in them.”

I avert my eyes to the floor as my throat constricts.

“What if I want to drown?” I ask quietly.

A tear escapes Cescily’s eye. She lets it slide down her cheek while she grabs my hand in both of hers. “I understand that right now you may want to drown because it seems easier. But I beg you, reach out to the hands that want to pull you back above the water when you want to sink. There are so many.”

With a shuddering sob, I break. My fragile resolve finally cracks under the weight of my self hatred.

“What can we do for you, Elly? Where do you want to start?” she asks softly.

My head shakes with jerky movement as I admit, “I don’t know. I don’t know where to start.”

Cescily nods at me encouragingly. “Would it be easier for you to talk to someone completely removed from the situation? It can be hard for us, who know you and Alec both so well and love you so dearly. No one knows if those memories of him will return to you but I hope they do. Not for Alec, but for you. What Locane did is unheard of.”

I take a dry bite of pita bread just for something to do with my hands.

“There’s a woman in the Healer’s district I used to talk to. I struggled as a girl, not having my father. Would you like me to put you in contact? Or we could find someone else.” I hiccup and nod. Cescily smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad to hear that. Is any part of you lighter after this conversation?”

And surprisingly, I am. A sudden weightlessness is lifting me up, pulling me from the depths of darkness I’ve been trying to hide in.

“Yes. A little bit,” I admit.

“Good. Now, I think you’re plenty drunk. Let’s go do something else,” she suggests, and I agree.