Page 49 of A Broken Ember
Her eyes found mine and widened. “You've returned!” she shrieked with surprise.
“We have come looking for a witch we believe may be here,” I answered, getting right to business. Her eyes went to the man in my arms before jerking towards Rohit. Upon seeing our father, she sneered.
“Please, Clotho, I shall explain everything, but he needs healing now,” I begged, unable to keep the fear from my voice. Her eyes snapped back to mine. They were livid, but she slowly nodded.
“I shall bring you to Thana,” she answered thoughtfully. “But they must disarm here.” She jerked her head behind me.
“Of course,” I replied. Rohit growled but did as she instructed, laying down his arms. Sivert quickly collected the weapons as Clotho spun on her heel, expecting us to follow. She brought us down into the depths of the castle. I immediately knew where we were going. The room where my Circles were broken. My heart pounded with dread. The room was exactly as I remembered it, except now there was a smattering of chairs surrounding the metal table I had been strapped to. The only light came from a dwindling fire, unlike the raging inferno from last time I was here. I shivered at the memory. No window. There were no fancy decorations here, unlike in the De Vita. Here, everything was simple, made for efficiency.
“Wait here,” Clotho ordered, leaving us with Sivert.
I strode up to the empty table and gently laid Anastasius upon it, even though the action tore at my heart. I hated it, but I suspected that was Clotho’s intention. She wanted me disarmed, weakened. I wouldn't let her. Anastasius’ skin reflected bone white. His respirations were shallow and rapid. Ercan placed his fingers against Stas’ neck and mumbled something to himself.
Rohit began pacing the room while Ercan slumped into the corner as if wishing to make himself invisible. Sivert went from glaring at Ercan to me and back, as if unsure who he hated more. I remained by my prince’s side, holding his cool hand. My eyes were attached to his chest, ensuring he continued to take in air. What would I do if he stopped? I was so useless. My world was crashing around me, and I could do nothing but hope others could fix it. The feeling was foreign to me. I hated it.
It felt like forever before the door reopened. Each breath stretched an eternity, and I prayed it wouldn't be his last. Finally, Thana entered with Clotho. I fell to my knees with Ercan, still refusing to release Anastasius’ hand. Rohit jeered but reluctantly got to his knees, setting aside his pride.
“Rise, Claeg,” Thana said. The sound of my given name startled me. I stood but kept my eyes on Anastasius. His breathing had become irregular at some point, the Ruptor screaming for me to protect him while he was weak. “Now tell me why you have brought our enemies into our home,” Thana said, her tone hinting at her curiosity. I swallowed. Curiosity was good. At least she wasn't outright refusing to hear me out.
“Janardan, I beg you to grant me use of your witch.” I didn't mince words: if the witch was here, she would know whom I meant. It was a blessing from the gods my voice didn't shake. She hummed, neither denying nor confirming they had the witch.
“And what would you have them do?” she asked.
Anastasius’ jagged lips were discolored now, and a layer of sweat glinted in the evening light. I turned to face Thana, my insides twisting with nerves. Her eyes gave nothing away as she watched me. “I need their magic to heal him, Janardan,” I answered. She pursed her lips, her eyes flicking to the man my heart belonged to.
“And what shall I get in return?”
“Anything,” I answered immediately. My Janardan’s eyes widened with surprise, and Clotho glared from behind her.
“Grandmother, you cannot seriously be considering this! It goes against everything we are!”
“Hush, heir,” Thana scolded, making Clotho gape.
“He is De Vita,” Clotho protested. My heart skipped a beat, and Rohit sucked in a breath.
“Exactly. Using the energy to heal him doesn't go against his ways, now does it? Besides, the prince is of more use to me alive than dead. Now hurry: go and get the fledgling,” Thana instructed. Fledgling? I frowned. I wanted a witch, not a child. Clotho flushed, hands clenched into fists. She looked like she wanted to fight more, but she held her tongue and left to carry out our Janardan’s orders.
“We have much to discuss, Ruptor. I will grant you your wish in return for your story.” She eyed Ercan and Rohit and turned towards Sivert. “See to it that our guests are given appropriate accommodations. When the prince is healed, bring Claeg to my chambers. Oh, and take their crystals. I would hate for them to think they could use their magic against us.” I balked at her, surprised to have the suspicion that they had magic confirmed. How long had they known? With that, she left and my ex-lover prowled forward, grasping the crystals hanging around Anastasius’ neck and the rings on Ercan and Rohit’s fingers. My attention returned to the prince. He was so cold; the only sign of his life was the occasional breath shuddering through his chest.
Moments lasted another eternity before Clotho ushered in a woman who was hardly more than a girl. She wore weapons piled on weapons. Her honeyed hair was twisted in thick braids. A golden crystal hung around her neck against pale skin. There was a hardness in her angry green eyes. They had seen horrible things. I knew because I had the same anger in mine. There was no doubt that she was the witch. She had more power in her than just the magic, whether she knew it or not, I didn’t know, but the Ruptor within me recognized its likeness. I frowned, the pull confusing me.
“This is the man you wish to have healed?” she asked. Her voice was laden with a thick accent, but the way she spoke was clear enough. If the situation had been different, I would have bombarded her with questions of the other world. The one across the sea. Hopefully, there would be an opportunity in the future. I knew Anastasius would love to speak with her again.
I nodded, silently praying that she would agree to help. There was no guarantee she would just because she was told to. This woman was foreign, unpredictable. My heart raced as she took in Anastasius' dying body.
“I will help you for a favor,” she said, and immediately I agreed again. Damn the consequences. “From each of you,” she added, looking from me to Ercan and Rohit, who had stopped pacing the room to watch her every move. The two of them quickly nodded, making me sigh in relief. Anastasius would survive.
She immediately went to work, ripping apart the bandages to expose his mangled and scarred flesh. She examined the wounds quickly. Her hands danced in that way I had seen Anastasius’ move when he was calling upon the magic. She uttered words that I didn't understand, but the effect was instantaneous. His skin regained some color, and the fixated blood began to congeal. His breathing slowed. As the magic flowed from her, my heart rate began to slow, and I found I could take a deep breath. He was going to be okay.
After a few minutes, Anastasius stirred, his breathing becoming faster again and making me frown. A whimper escaped his lips. Worry slammed back into me, the sound so foreign from the prince. “What is—” I didn't get to finish the sentence before the whimpers escalated into agonized wails.
Chapter 52: Anastasius
Pain consumed my body. Fire. Everything burned, blazed. Used to numbness, I couldn’t bear it. I screamed in protest, my eyes flying wide open. My chest heaved, each breath agony, like my lungs were made of shattered glass. Hands held me down and voices murmured reassurances.
“What is happening to him?!” Claeg demanded, making my eyes focus on him. My Chosen looked at me with pain and terror in his eyes. I tried to reassure him that I was alright, but when I opened my mouth, my throat only let out anguish. “Stop this!” Claeg shouted at someone. My head turned to follow his gaze.
A young woman loomed over me. I gasped at the face I had come to consider a friend. I thought I would never see her again. The woman I had only come to know as Hen. Her pale hair matched Claeg’s, and she wore an array of blades. More than she had ever been awarded in De Vita. They suited her. The weapons looked as much a part of her as an arm or an eye.