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Chapter Thirteen: Rhea

Sweat plasters my hair to my temples as my eyes flare open and I suck air in with heaping gulps. He’s not here. I repeat the phrase in my mind, coming up to sit and placing a hand over my racing heart.

“It’s alright. It was just a nightmare.” The woman of the Middle’s voice is tranquil as it cradles me from all sides. I swear I feel the weight of her arms around me, pulling me in close. The scent of jasmine is strong as I try to take in a deeper breath.

“Will I ever stop seeing him when I sleep?” I rasp. These nightmares, the memories they pull from real life or sometimes create anew, are exhausting. I know King Dolian is hunting me, and I know he believes me to be only his. He’s a monster, a beast dressed in finery preying on someone who was never meant to be by his side. But there is a part of me that knows that deep down, I’m a monster like he is.

“Why would you think that?” she asks, hearing my thoughts as I hug my knees to my chest and rest my cheek on them. My magic—that other magic—awakens again, my guilt and remorse along with it.

I stare out at the black and purple and blue universe of stars and galaxies swirling all around me as I answer, “You know why.”

The silence between us is gentle, like a trickle of water leading away from a raging river. Finding its own path amongst the chaos. The stars around me seem so close, yet when I reach a hand out to touch them, my fingers only brush empty air. It’s all an illusion. Peace. Comfort. Love. None of it is real, at least not for me .

“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” she asks. She lets a few moments pass in silence before she continues. “I see a child who was so terrified that she turned inward to find a place that was safe enough to exist as she was. I see a girl who had to navigate what it meant to grow up—all the emotions and feelings and changes—all by herself. Yes, you had Alexi, and thank the gods for that, but one hour visits are not enough for any person. I see a young woman who finally allowed herself to know what it is to be cared for and is now withholding it from herself as punishment for a wrongdoing she did not commit.”

I feel the tears, hot and heavy, as they pool in my eyes until everything blurs.

“I see someone struggling to stay afloat in the tumultuous sea of suffering into which she has been tossed,” she adds on even more gently.

“It sounds like you see someone incredibly sad and foolish and hopeless,” I breathe out, wetness streaking down my cheeks.

“Oh, it is quite the opposite. I see someone resilient. I see someone stronger than she knows. As the waves keep crashing into her, as the tide tries to pull her under, she stays afloat. She treads the waters of despair because she has tenacity. Because she must believe, deep down and buried beneath the broken pieces she is so sure she is made of, that she deserves more. That she is worth the effort of forcing herself to stay above water. That she deserves the love of a man willing to risk his kingdom for her.”

“Perhaps,” I murmur, swallowing down the thick knot of emotions threatening to choke me. “Or maybe she used to believe that there was something better for her outside of her tower. Let herself fall in love with a man that turned out to be nothing more than a fraud. And now, amongst the destruction of the truth, all she wants is to let go. Perhaps I’m tired of always keeping myself afloat. Maybe now I just want to sink beneath those waters and into something dark and calm and… permanently numb.” I hate the way the words form in my mouth so easily, but there is truth in them—in the way I feel like there is no purpose for me anymore. “A person can only take so much before they begin to wonder if an existence in a brutal and terrifying life is better than no existence at all.”

The woman hums sadly. “You, my sweet girl, were made for so much more. Though it may not seem that way right now, you are on your journey to finding out what that is if you have the strength to persevere.”

I’m not sure that I do. “Can you see the future?” I ask, changing the subject as I reach out my hand this time to trail through the sparkling specks of white and gray that float around me.

Minutes seem to pass before she answers. “I can see glimpses and pieces but not a full picture.”

I swallow roughly, wiping my eyes before taking a deep breath and asking, “Am I still with Flynn—I mean Nox?” I wasn’t sure how I wanted her to answer that question. Thinking about him was like picturing the withering of a once tall and strong tree. Our love was the roots, made rich by all of the small moments that had brought us together. All the times he showed up for me, slowly breaking down my barriers until I let him in. But those roots had been fed by a manufactured dream—nothing but false intent and unspoken words.

My next inhale is forced while my chest squeezes in on itself. Gods, how was it possible that my trampled heart still loved him so fiercely? Why did the image of him confessing everything replay in my mind not as a memory of anger but one of desperation and insurmountable guilt? I didn’t like the idea of him thinking himself culpable. It made wanting to hate him for what he did nearly impossible. Yet I didn’t think I could hate him, not ever.

“I cannot answer your question, for that would pull on the strings of fate until they are nothing but a tangled web. But I can show him to you, if you’d like. I can show you his present and his past.”

I lift my cheek from my knee. “What do you mean?”

“Would you like to see what Nox is doing right now? At this moment?” she asks, a tinkling, delightful lilt to her voice. “Or perhaps you would like to see what he was doing as he courted you in your tower?”

“I don’t think he was courting me.” The word implies that he was getting to know me merely for the sake of being interested in who I was.

“Rhea, you are too skilled at reading people to have me believe that you think everything he did was nothing more than a farce. Would you like me to show you the past?”

Yes, I think, while speaking the word “no.”

The woman laughs—a legitimate laugh that makes me break out in goosebumps. The sound of it is a recognition, a calling back to a different time I have no memory of but feel distinctly connected to. I must truly be desperate for any sort of joy if a single laugh from a magical woman makes me somehow feel less alone.

“Don’t fight your curiosity. It is one of the things that will help guide you. Let’s see what your guard is doing.” Her words feel poignant, but I’m too weary to try and understand what they mean.

“He’s not my anything. Not anymore,” I whisper, the lie slipping easily between my lips.

“You know that I can hear your thoughts and feel your emotions, right? Why do you insist on lying to yourself about him?” Her tone is one of incredulousness as I imagine her brows furrowing together. I don’t answer, choosing to lie back down on my side instead, my knees drawing into my chest while I force my eyes to close.

“Rhea, you cannot hide from this. You need to talk about everything you are keeping locked away. The weight of those burdens is too much for one person to bear. Let him help you. Let me help you,” she pleads.

I believe the small amount of fear I hear woven into her voice is true. This is too much for one person.

And that’s the point.

I tried letting someone in. I tried giving them access to the things I keep so deeply buried that it took great personal trust to get them out. And in the end, it only resulted in more pain. More disappointment. More regrets.

So why not let myself be crushed by it all? Why fight it anymore? Hopes and dreams? They were as meaningless as a single blade of grass in a giant meadow. Let me be destroyed by all the consequences of the decisions I had made over the past three months. Let me succumb to it all. Let me be numb.