Devotion: A Tale of Liars and Beasts

13. The Sinful Six

Enara had fought against Darius' hold, tried to call out, to demand Fraus repeat what he'd just said, to tell her what he'd meant.

She couldn't have heard him right. Enara couldn't even repeat those words in her own mind, her entire body rejecting them.

... has she already seen how she died?

Her whole body had gone so cold, but a fiery anger had risen, giving her the strength to thrash and writhe, fighting to get free from Darius' grasp.

Why didn't they want her to hear what he had to say? Why hadn't anyone told her?

Fighting against a God's hold was no use. 

Darius had led her to her chambers- dragged, more like- and refused to answer her, no matter how she'd begged, pleaded, demanded him to.

He'd stayed with her for hours. Let her throw her accusations at him. Let her pace. Let her exhaust herself. Let her cry.

"How could you keep this from me?"

Enara didn't know how many times she'd uttered those words in that time. Darius looked as sullen as defeated as she'd ever seen. When he did finally answer her, he said the same few phrases. 

"We didn't want you to find out this way,"

"We thought it would be better for you to come to the realization yourself, more slowly,"

He apologized, too. But Enara didn't care.

Maybe it was the echoes of the mushroom's affects, but every negative emotion felt heightened.

Enara's exhausted body could only take so much, and eventually she'd given up. She'd laid down on the bed. It was all she had energy left to do.

She didn't even have the strength to shoo Darius' gentle touch away from her, as he stroked her hair. He'd stayed with her until she'd fallen asleep, but when she awoke, he was gone.

Enara wasn't sure how long she'd slept, but she knew it wasn't enough.

She fought against the onslaught of memories and revelations as they washed over her. If only she'd been able to stay in the sweet arms of oblivion a while longer. What a sweet release sleep had been...

It was then she realized why it was she'd awoken.

An odd sound, the slow scraping of glass and stone, coming from her window.

Adrenaline still flooding her every vein, Enara leapt from her bed, grabbing the nearest blunt object she could find: the ornate stone-based candle holder sitting on her bedside table.

She anxiously shifted her weight from foot to foot, adjusting her grip on her makeshift weapon. She watched with wide eyes as the window finally sprung free, and a dark figure climbed inside.

Fraus.

Enara stared at him for a moment, perplexed. Although he was a bit frightening, he'd actually been who she'd wanted to see. She had questions, after all.