A Storm of Flames and Deceit

13. Annotations

Nephele

I awake with a start, reaching up to clutch my chest as I catch my breath, only to find that my body is too weak. I glance down at my wrists, finding them thinner, paler, shackled in the teeth of those cauldron-damned magic-sucking creatures. My veins glow bright purple, the only stroke of lightning I can summon presently.

Swallowing, I look around, finding my cellar just as I recall: cold, dim, and dreadful. But I'm not alone. No, father hulks down the stairs slowly, his icy gaze set firmly upon me. It was rarely a good thing when he deigned to see me.

When I was a child, I remember a time when he used to bother to excuse his violence, claiming it in the name of discipline. Now I knew he only ever hit me to feel in control. And he only ever came down into the cellar when he had some extra steam he wanted to work off, wound a little tight.

I shift in my chains, scrambling backwards as much as I can, though my sluggish body runs into the cold brick wall. It's fruitless. Father approaches the same, coming into the light with that look of deep disdain in his eyes. I open my mouth, but sound doesn't come out, my throat dry of words that wouldn't even help me anyway. It wouldn't matter if I begged, sobbed, or plead. He'd still hit me without remorse if it made him feel good.

I only awake from the dream when he finally reaches me, his fist raised. Now when I wake, I'm able to clutch my chest as I catch my breath, finding myself back in my bed in the treehouse. My recovery doesn't take too long. This nightmare isn't atypical for me, reoccurring quite frequently over the past few months, especially when Eris isn't beside me.

I frown at the empty half of the bed. Of course, Eris hadn't come to bed with me. I knew he wouldn't be in the sheets, but I was uncertain if I should invite him to lay with me. It was easier last night when I was drunk and happy. Now, I wasn't sure if I wanted to risk him finding me in a nightmare.

Rolling out my limbs, I climb out of bed, headed for anywhere in the house. I just need to get up and move, remind myself that I'm safe. I toss a sweater over my nightgown to fight the chill in my shoulder by the memory of my father. When I wander into the living room, I notice a thin strip of light blooming from beneath the door to the study. Frowning, I curl the knob around my fingers, turning the handle.

Eris sits inside, nursing a cup of coffee, so immersed in a book that he doesn't even notice me enter. His hair dangles messily over his brow, his lids heavy and dark as he turns the page with slow fingers, tinged in exhaustion.

"Eris?"

He looks up then, his glasses nearly falling off his nose as his lips part in soft surprise. "Nephele," he rubs his eyes. "What are you doing awake?"

I laugh blearily. "I might ask you the same," I raise a brow, striding over to him, lowering myself into his lap. It must be just before sunrise, the sky tinted blue against the horizon. "What could you possibly be reading at this hour? Did you sleep at all?"

"I'll come to bed soon," he says warily, raking his fingers through his hair before settling a single hand on my waist. "Helion sent over a stack of books on projection spells, destiny entanglement, and power entrapment."

I glance at the stack, nearly as tall as a small child. "You may read abnormally quick, Hot Stuff, but you can't possibly expect to read all of those books in one night," I gape at him.

He grins sheepishly, glancing at what appears to be a stack of notes and annotations that he has scrawled in writing that grows increasingly sloppier as it goes. "No, but I can skim," he replies. "I only have three books to go."

I snap his book shut then, nearly smashing his fingers between the pages. "You've done enough for tonight," I brush my fingers across his face. He looks exhausted, his eyes near red from the effort of staying awake. "You should rest."