The Seeker Ch. 08

A figure darkened the doorway, blocking out the light from the torches lining the hall. It crept closer to where she lay sprawled on the floor, her lips turning blue from her lack of air. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't pull enough of it into her lungs. It was a curious thing.

Calloused hands framed her ruined face. Warm molasses slipped into her mind. A command was given, low and demanding.

Breathe, Laiyla.

Roughened fingertips swept hair across her forehead and tucked loose strands behind her ear. Strong hands lifted her from the floor, settling her against the wall. Pain flared from the contact, but it was strangely distant. A finger hooked her chin, bringing her eyes up to the man before her.

She reached out a trembling, bloody hand, dragging her fingers down the long scar along his thick, corded neck, leaving a trail of crimson. "You're dead," she rasped, her voice raw from her endless screams and crushed throat.

"No, keonai mouv. I'm here, I'm real. You're safe now."

She barked a laugh, drawing her knees up and curling her head against them. "I'll never be safe again. I was never safe with you."

Strong hands framed her face, drawing her eyes back up to his. Her vision blurred. All she could see was black midnight and flecks of lavender. She was hallucinating. She was seeing him just like she saw her other self. Maybe he would talk to her while she died. Maybe he would hum to her like the real Venlen used to.

Sure enough, she felt herself being lifted into strong arms, her body curled up in his lap. She rested her head on his chest, waiting for the hum, the hum that would take her away into darkness. He cradled her against him, kissing the top of her hair. She didn't care that she was hallucinating. She didn't care that a very big part of her hated the ghost holding her. She just took the comfort. She felt the bond vibrating pleasantly, no longer an ache that just added to all the pain.

"We're dying," she told the ghost. The pain was slowly drifting away. It was funny, how the slashes on her back no longer hurt. In fact, nothing hurt. She couldn't feel anything. She wasn't stupid. She knew what it meant. The ghost of herself had warned her about this, had told her to make the choice. Live with the devil or die with the devil. She had lost her resolve in all the agony, had begged for death to come much, much sooner. But now here she was, she had done her job, and she was finally, finally drifting away.

"We?" the specter asked, cocking his head as he followed the cuts and bruises on her face with a calloused finger. She nodded against him, wrapping a hand around her belly. "She would have been like me. A Seeker. I saw her. She had your eyes."

He stiffened. The hand cradling her head gripped her chin firmly, still careful of her broken face. He couldn't hurt her now. He was just a hallucination. He brought her gaze up to his, midnight eyes searching hers, searing and demanding, just like the real Venlen. She felt a phantom warmth in her mind, reaching for what she had kept so guarded and safe. What did it matter now? She let it go, begging forgiveness for the terrible choices she had made.

His eyes widened, steeled arms closing around her protectively. He lifted her up. She felt so heavy, but he carried her like a child, like she weighed nothing. Where was he taking her?

Her head lolled against his chest. She saw bodies strewn everywhere along the hall. Hundreds of bodies, all slashed and bloodied. She didn't like this dream. She turned her face into his hard, comforting torso. He smelled of leather and spice.

She felt herself being lowered onto a soft surface. Clouds. She was lying on clouds. She ran her fingers over the softness and smiled. She heard voices, men talking over her.

"Bring me all of them. Bribe them, threaten them, I don't care. I want every healer in this room within the hour." Venlen. His ghost.

"Pregnant? I didn't- "

"No one knew. She was hiding it. She blocked it somehow."

"Venlen, she's lost too much blood. Look at her. You can't- "

A growl, low with warning. "It's alive. She protected it. I don't know how, but I saw it. If you're not going to help, Amlen, then get the fuck out."

A gruff grunt, like an apology. "I'll send for the healers." A pause. "And the midwives."

Her cloud moved and dipped, someone climbed in beside her. Warm hands wrapped around her, careful of her broken body. She snuggled closer to the cloud, into the warmth. His fingers swept back her hair. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Am I back in the cell?" she asked. It hurt to talk, but it felt good to have someone listen, someone who cared, even if it was all in her head. "He's still dead, right? They found me and I'm back in the cell, but he's still dead. He must be. I did my job, right?"

Soft words answered her. "Yes, keonai mouv. You did your job. You did so well. Rest now. You'll never be in the cell again, I promise you."

She smiled against the cloud. Dying this way was so painless. "You would have been so proud of me, reisnaig. I didn't cry. Not once, no matter what. I kept my word."

"I am, Laiyla. I'm so proud of you."

"Will you hum for me?" she asked, the darkness creeping in from the edges of her vision.

He pulled her closer, his deep hum reverberating through her, lulling her into sweet, eternal sleep.

She would rest soon. She had something important to say though. She couldn't remember, but she knew it was important. Instead, she said something she didn't mean to.

"You know," she whispered, slowly drifting into darkness. "I think I could have loved you."

She felt tears falling on her cheeks. They felt like raindrops.

...............................................................

Shadows danced behind her eyelids. She felt the warmth of afternoon sun against her skin. A soft breeze caressed her bare arms, slid gentle fingers through her hair. Her eyes fluttered open.

She was back in the place she had met with Eila. She sat up, looking around. Trees lined the sacred place, standing vigil against the terrors of the outside world. A dark, shimmering pool edged the border of the eternal autumn afternoon sanctuary. The crisp smell of falling leaves sluiced the breeze around her, but she caught no chill. It was perfectly warm, perfectly cool.

There was no pain.

She heard a sound behind her, a padding of graceful feet inching closer. She turned, already knowing what she would see. Eila's ethereal white gown swirled and danced at her feet as the breeze played with the gossamer fabric. Her beautiful blonde-white hair was pulled back into a loose braid that hung over her shoulder. Ocean-deep eyes looked down at her lovingly.

The sight of her lost friend filled her with a joy so strong it hurt, but it was not Eila that pulled a strangled sob from her lips, but the tiny thing she held in her arms, cooing and gurgling. Laiyla stood, cautiously walking toward the pair waiting for her. Eila's smile lit up her face, made it glimmer and glow. "I never doubted you, sweet girl."

"You knew?" Laiyla breathed. Eila's smile dipped into something sad and timeless. Her eyes slipped into deeper waters. "From the very beginning, Laiyla."

Laiyla bit her lip but could do nothing to stop the stream of tears that slid mercilessly down her cheeks. She inched closer to the squirming bundle in Eila's hands.

Eila held her arms out to her. "Do you want to meet your daughter, Laiyla?"

Distraught, she slid her eyes from Eila to the bundle in her arms. Did she? Did she want to see what could have been, what had been ripped from her so painfully? Did she want to see what she could have given life to, had she let Damien think the child was his? She stepped forward again, and saw the flash of dark hair, the honeyed skin of the wriggling thing wrapped in iridescent fabric. Shaking hands reached for her daughter, and Eila placed the thing snugly into the crook of Laiyla's arms.

Wide, sweet eyes looked up at her. Endless pools of midnight, flecked with sea glass green. They shimmered and gleamed with life, precious life. Pouty lips sat in a tiny, heart shaped face. Petite ears ended in points that were just barely there. She was perfect. Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore besides the beautiful thing gazing up at her. Thoughts of anger and hate for Venlen slipped like water from her mind. He had given her these few precious moments with this tiny part of her heart. For that, she loved him.

Laiyla's knees buckled. Eila was there, her steady hand leading her to a towering pine, where she sat them both down. Tears fell like raindrops onto the wrapped angel in her arms. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Eila circled long, graceful arms around them. Her lips grazed Laiyla's temple. "Has she told you her name yet?"

Laiyla looked up at her friend with glistening eyes. Slowly, she nodded. "Adrika," she whispered.

"Ah yes," Eila's voice tinkled like a song lost to the wind. "It means celestial. Do you know what Laiyla means?"

Laiyla shook her head, looking back down to the child in her arms.

"Night."

The tears that had been a steady stream broke like a dam. Choked sobs wracked her tiny frame. "Why, Eila?" she cried, anguish lacing her words. Eila's hand fell on the crown of her head, fingers laced through her dark hair as she sobbed.

"It's time for you to go home, Laiyla." Her voice was gentle, soft against her skin like the breeze that danced across the clearing.

Laiyla sniffled and looked up. "Home?" she asked, her voice cracking. Eila just nodded her head gracefully, pulling the child from her arms. Cradling Adrika into the crook of her elbow, she reached out, wiping the tears from Laiyla's sodden cheeks.

"Venlen waits for you."

Her words shot daggers through Laiyla. "Venlen's dead." Laiyla groaned, remembering the arrow, and the knife, and the sneering, pudgy face of the demon. The way Venlen's ghost had come for her in the end, how she had drifted into painless oblivion while he held her and hummed.

Eila shook her head, wisps of her hair caught in the wind. "You did so well, Laiyla," she said sadly. "Take this gift. Give it a chance." Eila cupped a palm to her cheek. "You can stay, if you wish. But she cannot," she said, looking down at the bundle of bliss nuzzled safely to her side. "If you go back, it will not be easy. You will have more to do. There will be more suffering. But you will have each other. You will all have each other."

Laiyla wiped at renegade tears, her brow furrowed as she processed her friend's words. "He's a monster, Eila. He'll ruin her, like he ruined me."

Eila's fingers gently gripped her chin, staring deep into her eyes. "Is that what you saw, Laiyla? Is that what the forest showed you?"

Laiyla thought back to the vision pressed into her palm, of the child in the stone room, approached from both sides by two brothers. She remembered the look on Venlen's face as he had reached for his daughter. At the time, she had been so overcome with fear of the other man that she hadn't truly processed the scene. She realized then that she had been wrong. Given the chance, Venlen would lay down his life for his child. The revelation shocked her.

Eila nodded, seeing the understanding spread across Laiyla's face. "You and Venlen still have a long road back to each other. But Adrika will make the monster inside of him lay at her feet and wag its tail like a loyal dog. He will give her nothing but love."

Laiyla nodded her head absently, lost once again in the dark waters of her daughter's eyes. Eila leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You will see her again soon," she whispered. With that, she turned and began walking away, the heavy fabric of her gown luminous in the glow that began to swallow them both. Something Eila had said suddenly struck her. You and Venlen still have a long road back to each other.

Back?

"Wait, Eila!" she cried, reaching for her, but the clearing was already disappearing before her eyes, the scene glimmering like ripples across water.

......................................................

Venlen sat at the bedside where Laiyla lay on her stomach, deep in a dreamless sleep, stroking strands of hair from her smooth, unfurrowed brow. She was so peaceful, so beautiful in her sweet unconsciousness. Soon they would wake her, and he knew this look, this calm and painless oblivion that swept over her delicate features, would disappear from him for a very long time.

We have been here before, haven't we, keonai mouv? He thought. And it's been my fault, it's always been my fault.

The healers came from all corners, some with magical abilities, others with just their skill in the mortal world. They came together, deliberated, deciding on the best course of treatment, and got to work. For nearly a week, Laiyla had been kept unconscious as they went about their respective jobs. Some laced healing light into her veins, others tended to her many wounds.

The midwives, all of them possessing strong power, linked hands and chanted incantations until pearlescent orbs of light formed and hovered over the place where the halfling nestled deep in her mother's womb, struggling to stay alive. The orbs melted into her skin, sinking down and bringing with them ancient, powerful light. Blood spells encouraged the veins in Laiyla's body to fill with necessary fluids, and the midwives directed it to the warm, dark place where the little thing grew.

Venlen was there for all of it. He took reports from his men across the room and out of earshot of the unconscious Fae, just in case. He did not want her healing mind filled with worrisome details of the world outside the castle gates. Other than that short distance, he never let her out of his sight, despite how the exasperated midwives had tried to shoo him away so they could focus on healing the more private places on the wrecked body laying before him. He wouldn't move, staring down the fearless women with a look that would have had grown men whimpering and scampering away. The midwives had just thrown their arms up in the air with irritated huffs and went about their work while he stood like a dark angel, always at her side.

He needed to see all of it. He needed to know what his carelessness had done to her, what terrible sacrifices and choices she had been forced to make in his absence.

With every cut that was sealed by skilled hands, with every bruise that was bled and healed, a part of him died. How many times had he left bodies in similarly awful conditions when he worked for Matteo? How many of his own methods of inflicting pain had Damien used on her? To think of it was to chop off a part of his soul as surely as cleaving his body apart, bit by bit. It made the monster inside of him whimper and rise up, all at the same time.

Time and again, his eyes were drawn to the bruises around Laiyla's neck, to the dark and reddened line where the collar had bit into her silken skin. Besides the markings left by the collar, the bruises could very well have been left by him. It was this thought, that he had seen marks like this on her before inflicted by his own hand, was what drove daggers into his middle repeatedly. He would have preferred Damien's knife to the torment he suffered while watching the bruises slowly disappear.

She thought she had been hallucinating, back in the godforsaken room he had found her in, lying in a puddle of his brother's blood. She thought she had been dying. She would have been right, had he not found her when he did, had the healers not arrived just as she was drifting away from him. As they mended her broken bones, her shattered ribs, her torn and bloodied back, he wondered with astonishment at how she had gathered the strength to do what she had done.

His fierce little Fae, after all was said and done, had been the one to topple the devil from his throne.

It was the last thing she had said to him that circled in his mind like a dog chasing its tail. Her whispered words of affection, and the hope it gave him that he might one day win her love.

And the child. His daughter. He could not think of it without nearly crumbling to his knees. A man obsessed, he rubbed and touched her delicately rounded stomach, whispering and humming to the tiny creature inside. At random intervals, a flash of anger would ignite at her obstinance, her refusal to tell him, before it was nearly too late. What good would his anger do now? He tried to release it from his grip, tried to let it flow and falter. He would question her when all was better, when he had them both back.

Word spread quickly that a lost princess, and a Seeker no less, had almost given her life to destroy the man-turned-demon that had clamped down on the land with a dark, suffocating hand. Venlen was furious to find the tariffs he had put in place quadrupled, the villages and towns scattered throughout Prevaria starved and strangled once again. He cursed himself. He should have come home sooner. He should never have spent so much time watching and waiting for Laiyla to come to him. He should have just taken her when he first found her and gone back home the moment he heard rumor of his brother's corruption.

Damien had turned the castle into a place of perversion. Young, beautiful girls stolen from their families were forced to become sexual playthings of the sick and twisted men and women Damien had kept in his court. Rooms filled with torturous instruments lining the walls were generously sprinkled throughout the desolate hallways. Venlen had seen evidence of the depravity, had witnessed it as men and women had flooded the center of the throne room to assault Laiyla as she stood trapped against that vile guard. Malich. The name had never left him.

Under his instruction, the dungeons were emptied of all prisoners, replaced with those who had survived the invasion. When Laiyla awoke, when he was sure she was stable, that his child was safe, he would order them brought to him one by one.

And one by one, he would let the monster inside come out to play.