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Chapter Twenty-Three: Rhea

Coward.

It is the only thing I can think as I stare at the unfamiliar wooden beam ceiling above me. Utter shame is the only emotion flowing through me while I lay on a bed that is neither mine nor Nox’s but his sister’s.

After he confessed his side of everything, explained his deeply-rooted love for me, I had just stared at him, speechless. It is ludicrous to find myself shocked at the way he so easily disclosed his feelings. Nox has always been open with me about how he feels, and I know, so deeply within me that it pulls on the edges of my soul, that he is being honest. That lying about who he technically is hurt him—maybe as much as it hurt me. Maybe even more. He is a crown prince, but does that knowledge change who he is to me ?

What did a title change, anyway? Though I am princess of the Mortal Kingdom, that moniker has no bearing on what makes me who I truly am. It isn’t even a title I want. Groaning, I turn on my side, frustration mixing with the wave of emotions crashing into me.

I know that Nox loves his kingdom, and despite what he said earlier, I know he would still fight for them, for their protection. It is ingrained in who he is—a protector. I also know that he loves me and that it is the kind of love that I have read about. The kind I thought might not even exist. A kind so pure and real and raw that, even in my quietest wishes spoken to the night sky, I wouldn’t have been able to ask for something as good as this. As good as him. I could never have allowed myself to dream of someone like him because I didn’t know what it was to be loved like that.

And I am a coward. Because after he confessed everything , I had just stared at him, words completely dried up. Anger snuffed out like an ocean’s worth of water poured on the flame of a single candle. He gave his heart to me, and I had shored my defenses in response. An intrinsic part of me that is still afraid of getting hurt, the one that screams that I’m a shell of a person not worth anyone’s time or love, had won in that moment.

When it was clear that I couldn’t—wouldn’t—speak, Nox dropped his hold on my face and murmured something about getting some more rest. Then he had led me to Bahira’s room, her door just down the hall from his.

Now here I am, contemplating what I am going to do next.

Coward.

Knowing that sleep is a lost cause for tonight, I push off of the bed and walk over to the glass balcony door. The summer air is warm around me as I step out, fragrant floral and pungent earthiness heavy with every inhale. There is no moonlight visible through the canopy of trees, the forest just barely lit by the small flames in glass orbs surrounding the outside of the palace.

My hand absentmindedly reaches out to scratch Bella’s soft fur—so used to her being at my side—and I’m met with nothing but empty space instead. My next breath is harsh, and I’m unable to stop my quivering lip as I place both hands on the wooden railing in front of me and dig my nails into it.

Coward .

My head dips back down as my gaze goes once more to the trees in front of me. I remember what Selene had suggested—that I should forgive myself, and that seemed easy enough in theory. But forgiveness had to be earned, didn’t it? What had I done to procure that sort of clemency for myself? I had a long list of things I have failed at, another made of matters that I was directly to blame for, and no list of the ways I had atoned for them.

Not like Nox had. He continually risked parts of himself for me because, despite it all, he loved me. And when he had professed that love over and over again, when he had laid out his reasons for keeping secrets and then subtly begged me to forgive him for them, I had just stared. Silent and dumbfounded. Guilt-ridden and stunned. He deserves my forgiveness; of that, I am sure. And I do want to give it to him. A quieter voice whispers that I want to give it myself too.

But it can’t be that easy.

Night passes quickly though very little of it is given to sleep. Instead, I sit curled up on Bahira’s bed, hugging my knees to my chest as I let myself get lost in memories that now seem to haunt me. Bella’s absence has never screamed so loudly as it does now, a phantom in the room that sucks the air from it and leaves me huddled in the mess of the aftermath. Eventually, my lids grow too heavy to keep open, my body uncurling enough to lay down and succumb to the fatigue that calls to me.

I’m awakened by a gentle knock and a voice at the door, the sound causing me to jerk upright, growing dizzy as I do. “Lady Rhea, my name is Sarai. I’m the queen’s lady-in-waiting. May I come in?”

Ringing starts in my ears as my heart squeezes in on itself. I don’t know who this person is, if they are truly someone who works for the palace or not. Where is Nox?

I don’t respond, clutching the blankets of a stranger’s bed as my magic stretches within me. The silence grows while I stare at the dark wooden door, a trickling of sunlight dotting it from the windows across the room.

Footsteps sound and another voice accompanies a new round of knocks. “Rhea? Are you in there?” Nox asks, and my body immediately relaxes.

Swallowing down the anguish that has taken root in my throat, I quickly cross the room and open the door. The motion feels so familiar, like all the times that I would rush to answer his knock in the tower. But, standing across the threshold now, the man in front of me has traded in his signature smirk for a defeated downturn of his lips. His dark gray eyes roam over me for only a moment before he turns his head. The column of his throat works as he swallows harshly, a hand gesturing to the woman standing a few feet away at his side.

“This is Sarai. She is the lady-in-waiting for my mother and someone I deeply trust. She has some things for you.” He steps back, the distance only a foot or so, but he might as well have leapt across a canyon. Why won’t he look at me?

“Hello, Lady Rhea,” Sarai says, stepping into the space Nox left. “I have some new clothes for you as well as some shoes. I can get them all put away for you if you’d like?” She waits for my small nod before she enters, and I watch as she heads down a short hallway that must lead to a closet, her arms full of colorful fabrics and a black sack.

Looking back at Nox, I chew on my lower lip, my next inhale a struggle. “How late in the day is it?” With the sunlight so obscured, it’s hard to accurately gauge what time it is.

“Early evening,” he answers, still not meeting my gaze. “I am going to let my parents know that you are awake and that we will need some time to figure things out.”

My fingers twine together in front of me, my throat burning as I fight to clear it. “Okay.” He dips his chin, turning on his heel to walk away from me. “Wait,” I croak out, halting his retreat. My mouth opens—to say what, I don’t know.

My lack of experience with relationships and interacting with others has never felt like a burden with Nox. He has so effortlessly made me feel like he never finds me inadequate, and yet now, with his back to me and his shoulders rounding under the devastation we both must be feeling, it’s like he doesn’t have it in him to make up the difference between us anymore. A defeated Nox, a hopeless Nox, isn’t one I’ve ever seen. It’s one that I’m not sure how to speak with.

“There is a place I’d love to show you a little later if you’d like—”

“Yes,” I answer quickly.

Nox finally meets my gaze over his shoulder, and my heart shatters at the way he looks as if he’s breaking. At how we both are.

My magic rises, pushing me to go to him. To wrap my arms around him as if that could fix us, but I keep my feet rooted in place, reaching for that space in my mind that I used to hide every hurt within. That I used to hide within. It isn’t there anymore; not like it was. It’s as if being in the Middle somehow gave me a clean slate. I had the space and time and freedom to process every facet of my life, but I didn’t know how to. And the man that I thought would be the one to help me is looking at me like he’ll never see me again. Like I’m already a memory that he’s being forced to let go of.

“Take your time getting ready and eating. I’m sure my sister has some books tucked into a bookcase that will help you pass the time until I get back. Or you are welcome to wait in my room.” He turns to face me fully then, a hand running through his hair. “I want you to know that you aren’t a prisoner, but with your magical signature being so strong, it’s safer that you remain on this floor for now.”

“Safer?”

“I promise to explain everything,” he says quietly. He gives me one last look before turning and heading towards the stairs, and I watch him walk away, a hollow feeling blooming where my heart should be.

Sarai appears from the small hallway, her hands clasped in front of her. I take in her long braid hanging over the shoulder of her emerald-green dress, the brown hair broken up by strands of gray. Wrinkles deepen the corners of her mouth as she smiles.

“All of your new clothing is put away, including your sandals, flats, and boots. We had to guess on the measurements for some of them, so if something doesn’t fit properly, just let me know.”

My brows furrow as I clear my throat and ask, “What do you mean by guessing the measurements?”

Sarai blinks, as if the question surprises her. “The prince didn’t want anyone near you beyond what was necessary, so I couldn’t take the proper numbers needed to tailor your clothing. I had to guess. I’m sorry if—”

“Oh, no, please don’t apologize. I just…” I drop my gaze to the floor.

“Are you alright, My Lady?”

The use of that title ushers in the memory of Tienne and Erica, their soft voices and even gentler hands taking care of me after Alexi’s death. Gifting me dresses because my own collection was so ill-fitting after owning the same ones for the better part of a decade.

“The clothes you brought, where did they come from?” I sincerely hoped they didn’t alter Bahira’s clothing to fit me. Not because I am ungrateful, but because Bahira didn’t seem like the type you wanted to make angry. And I wasn’t sure she agreed to let me not only use her room but have her clothes as well.

“I’m sorry, My Lady?” Sarai asks, taking another step towards me.

“The clothes,” I say slowly, lifting my gaze. “Whose were they before you altered them?”

She blinks again, giving a small shake of her head. “They were made for you specifically. By order of the queen.”

It’s my turn to stare in surprise. “The clothes were made for me ?”

Sarai chuckles, gently patting my shoulder as she walks towards the door. “Indeed, they were. Should you ever need anything, My Lady, don’t hesitate to flag me down. I can usually be found on this side of the palace on the second floor. I’m sure His Highness can show you where.”

“Thank you,” I manage to squeak out.

Sarai smiles warmly at me before continuing down the hall in the same direction that Nox went.

I shut the door to Bahira’s room, my heart pounding as I head towards the closet. When I step in, I shouldn’t be surprised by how whimsical it looks, like someone carved into the trunk of a tree simply to hang clothes, but I am. One side of the closet is sparse—only a small collection of clothing hanging on metal hooks, most of them dresses. The other side, however, is lined with colorful fabrics and styles I’ve never seen before. Dresses, yes, but shirts with matching skirts and trousers that have shimmering embroidery also hang from hooks. Shoes line the floor beneath the clothes, and in the corner, the top drawer left slightly open as if to beckon me in for a closer look, is a small dresser. Inside are undergarments, the styles and colors much bolder and lacier than anything I’ve ever owned.

With nothing else to do and my emotions teetering on a sharpened edge, I take a shower and dress, then wait on the balcony for Nox to come.

His knock arrives around an hour later. When I open the door, my eyes widen as I take him in. He’s showered, my next inhale full of his clean autumn scent, but he’s wearing something other than all black. A navy blue tunic is pulled taut across his chest, hugging his biceps and the muscles that are expertly carved there. His trousers are form-fitting and dark brown, tucked into black boots that rise up to his calf. And his hair— gods, his hair . Short wavy pieces hang over his forehead and ears, the cut a bit longer than when we first met. I want to run my hand through it, to breathe him in and hold him close and remind him—remind myself—that he is the reason my heart beats. The only reason I have left now.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he says hoarsely.

I tuck my unbound hair behind my ears as I glance down at the outfit I chose. A maroon skirt flows down to my ankles with silver-threaded daisies embroidered in a waterfall pattern all around it. I paired it with a cap-sleeved cream blouse, the hem showing a sliver of skin on my stomach.

“You will need shoes,” he says, gesturing towards my bare feet.

“Right,” I answer, heading towards the closet. My attention immediately snags on the sparkly pair of sandals, a silver ribbon lacing through black loops that crisscross over the top. Without thinking, I grab them, only to realize halfway across the room that I have no idea how to tie them. My steps falter as I stare at them in my hand.

“May I?” Nox asks as he steps into the room.

It’s strange to watch someone you have shared so much of yourself with act as if they are afraid of you. Or afraid for you. I’m not sure which one bothers me more.

At my nod, he kneels before me, the heat of his body a familiar comfort. The air around us thickens, and goosebumps break out over my skin, but I focus on lifting my foot and sliding it into the sandal. His touch is gentle—wary—and when he finishes, he stands and gestures towards the door.

“Ready?” he asks, waiting again for another silent nod. He leads me not towards the staircase he went to earlier, the one we took to get up to this level, but in the opposite direction, back towards his room. “This is a secret passageway.”

My eyes widen as I stumble slightly, my feet still not used to wearing shoes of any kind. Nox stops in front of a section of the wall, the stone there unassuming. He lays his hand over a stone that has more gray striation than the others surrounding it and pushes. The wall lets out a slow cracking sound before it swings in and cool air rushes out.

“It’s pretty dim, and there aren’t any flame gems or spelled flames,” he says, extending his hand out for mine.

I slide my hand into his, my inhale sharp when a jolt of something passes between us. Nox’s gaze flicks down to where we are touching and back up again, his arm now covered with goosebumps. He chooses not to comment, so I don’t either.

A tight, narrow spiral staircase made of stone winds down into the darkness, no open center like there was in the tower. My gaze travels over the square shapes of the rock that make up the walls as my pulse begins to quicken.

This place is different.

The temperature is cooler, and the scent of damp air is thick in my nostrils. Shadows are cast from the light of the hallway and down over the steps, making them look a darker gray—like the place that had held me. That had nearly killed me. I had escaped the tower, and it had cost everything . I had been handed freedom, but only after I had paid a price that made it feel worthless. I had fallen in love, only to be thrown against a wall of uncertainty. And as my vision blurs and tears trail down my cheeks, I feel the weight of it all come crashing down on me.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his soft voice distorted through the ringing in my ears. “Rhea?”

“I can’t—” I say with a gasp, unsure of how to verbalize what I feel. Unsure of everything. I step backwards, my chest heaving as I drop his hand and dig my fingers into my hair.

He searches my face, his eyes widening when recognition strikes. “Fuck, Rhea. I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“It’s okay.”

“No, no , it’s not. I wanted to show you one of my favorite spots, a place where you could go and not worry about being bothered by anyone, but this is the only way to get there. I just didn’t think about how similar it looks to the tower.” He drags his hands over his face, remorse settling heavily in the corners of his mouth. “Tell me what to do. How can I fix this?”

Wasn’t that the biggest question of all? A sob steals my breath as I take tentative steps towards him, my hands leaving my hair to wrap around his torso slowly. I don’t have the words to tell him what I need, but he understands all the same. Without hesitation, his arms band around me as I bury my face against his chest.

“I’m sorry, Rhea. I’m so sorry.” He repeats the words as a murmur against my temple, never faltering even when I dig my nails into his back. Even when my cries echo in the hallway and I need his help standing, he holds firm.

Just like he promised to do when I lost Bella, he holds my pieces together because I’m too weak to do it myself.