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CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Ellery

I felt like I was moving through a thick paste I couldn’t escape as it clouded every part of my mind and body; I wasn’t entirely sure where I was. Everything passed in a blur of walls, openings, and more walls.

The roar of wind and tornadoes faded, and a damp chill coated my skin. The dim glow illuminating the stone surrounding me came from small, recessed lights set in the walls that pressed too close to me.

Someone held my arm, but I wasn’t sure who, and I didn’t care. All I cared about was the fact they wouldn’t let me sink to the ground and cry like I yearned to do.

My mother was gone. Dead.

The last living member of my family had been cruelly ripped away from me. I could barely breathe through the grief crushing my chest.

Every part of me felt strangely numb yet brutalized as it screamed for something it could never have again… one more hug. A sob lodged in my throat.

My mother had been a part of the very fabric of me. She was woven into my being; not only had she given me life, but she’d loved me, raised me, and given me the freedom to be who I was. Her essence stamped every part of me, and they’d torn her away.

Yet, no matter how badly I longed to sink to the ground and cry, I kept going. I didn’t have any other choice, not because I was a prisoner, but because I needed to be free of the monsters who’d created this mess.

I craved fresh air and a place without walls and death. A place where I could escape the fear, but I could never avoid that while living in Tempest.

I wanted Ryker, but he was stuck up there with the rest of them, and I had no idea when I’d see him again. That thought pierced through the fog enshrouding me a little, and while I still felt like I was clawing my way through quicksand, I tore pieces of it away to get to the surface.

Ryker was still up there in the place that had stolen my mother from me. I couldn’t leave him.

When I tried to plant my feet, my awkward movements caused me to stumble and nearly go down.

“Easy, Ellery, just keep going. We’re almost there.”

When I lifted my head, my wet hair fell forward to shield my eyes. I pushed it back to peer up at the man next to me.

I knew that voice and, because the rebel’s hoods were hastily made, their eyes were revealed. Which meant, I knew those green eyes too. I hadn’t fully acknowledged him when he first grabbed me and started speaking, but part of me must have known I was safe as I hadn’t fought him either.

“Callan.”

His eyes darted away. “Just keep going.”

“Why?”

He kept his attention on the gloomy tunnel as he responded. “Because we’re tired of being oppressed.”

“No, not that. I understand that. Why did you take me out of there? Why did you risk yourself?”

“Because I couldn’t see you die. I… I was too late for your mother, but I wasn’t going to let you die, and it’s over; we’ve lost.”

“Did you really expect to win?”

His eyes returned to me. “Yes.”

I didn’t want to kick him while he was down, but how could he have expected that? They’d rushed into something with little planning, other than attack and surprise, that I could tell.

I opened my mouth to tell him he was the reason my mother was dead, that he hadn’t given any consideration to the amsirah caught in the crosshairs… the ones who didn’t deserve to die, before attacking. I wanted to scream, hit, and kick. I wanted to throw myself at him, tear away his hood, and pummel him until I stopped hurting… but I’d never stop hurting.

That was the sad truth I’d learned after my father’s passing. While, eventually, my misery would ease enough that I could go out in the world and function again without breaking down, it would come back. And it would do so in powerful waves that would have me smiling one minute and sobbing the next.

During those times, it was like years hadn’t passed, and it was once again the day when I learned he was gone.

I could kill Callan, and it still wouldn’t make me feel better. I could rail against him and blame him for all of this, and it would still do nothing.

It would only make me feel worse, as the way he hung his head and hunched his shoulders told me he was beating himself up too. He was defeated enough; my mother wouldn’t want me adding to it.

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I shifted my attention to the walls as I sought to bury the anguish crushing my heart. “Where are we?”

“One of the servants’ tunnels in the earl’s castle.”

“How did we get here?”

“Through a trapdoor in one of the pillars.”

I blinked as his words sank in. I didn’t recall going through the trapdoor. The realization of how out of it I’d been when we entered these tunnels was a slap to the face that helped clear my mind.

I’d allowed myself to sink into despair after my mother’s death, and while it was understandable under normal conditions, it was incredibly stupid given what was happening in the ballroom. My mother would want me to live, yet, for a brief time, I’d stopped functioning.

If Callan hadn’t led me away, I might still be on the floor, weeping over her loss. I might also be dead.

The enormity of that sank in, as did the rest of what was happening. Callan had his hand on my waist and his arm locked under my shoulders and across my back as he helped me stand. I hadn’t been functioning and moving as well as I’d believed.

It terrified me to learn how little control I’d had over myself. What was I doing?

I didn’t know the answer, but I wouldn’t let it happen again.