The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 33

The bandaged lashes on Lillian's back made it painful, climbing the rope to her window. But she didn't care. There was too much on her mind, too much that weighed on her heart. Too much she needed to sleep off.

The lamp had been blown out by the draft coming through the window she'd left open. The fire on the hearth had grown cold. Pale light from the sinking moon lit the silhouettes of her furniture just enough to see them.

She didn't know how late it was. She didn't care.

Her arms were pale and heavy with weariness as she stripped her clothes off and pulled a long, loose shirt over her undergarments. She'd never liked nightgowns any more than she did dresses.

As she went into the latrine to wash her face, she thought of what Craventi had said before he left Chad's body.

He will live. They both will. There is nothing more we can do now but wait for them to wake. Go and rest.

Lillian put her palms on the smooth edge of the marble basin, watching the droplets that slipped off her chin and rippled the water below, shimmering like glass in the darkness. She couldn't tell if they were tears or water.

Plucking a soft towel from the pile on the counter, she hastily dried her face. When she glanced in the gilded mirror, her own eyes caught her attention.

She didn't recognize herself. Hers was a face that belonged to someone in pain, someone laden with more than they could carry. But, like broken green glass, those eyes stared back at her, black holes pulling her in, spinning a tale of her own heartbreak.

Clenching the towel in her fist, she took two steps back, stumbling, before she hit the wall. Something in her chest tightened; she couldn't get a full breath. Terror seeped into her veins. Something was wrong with her. Her throat was suddenly too tight to swallow.

Heart pounding hard against her ribs, she slid down the wall, hands clutching at her chest. She couldn't breathe. Her heart was beating too fast. Too fast. Too fast. Cold sweat coated her skin, making her trembling fingers slick. The walls were closing in around her. She was trapped. And scared. Terrified.

Panic attack. Her frantic mind recalled the word. The event. Nyle had gotten them for a year after he'd first been brought to the camp.

Deep breaths. Close your eyes. Think of something that makes you happy.

She remembered her mother telling him that as he sat curled in on himself, panting and terrified. She'd watched helplessly every time. But her mother had always known what to do.

So Lillian brought her knees to her chest, buried her head in her arms, and thought of Nyle. Of Sam and Crynia and Chad. Of her mother's gentle embrace, her father's loving gaze. Of Philip's friendship, his warm smile that made his eyes light up. Tears slid down her cheeks, and a strangled sob escaped her.

She wanted them back. But oh, how she wanted to let those she'd lost go.

Her throat loosened a little, and she gasped a deep, trembling breath into her lungs, staring at the cold slate tiles beneath her bare feet.

You're strong, my daughter, her mother had said once, at her inclusion ceremony into the Nemaru army. You've got a stubborn will like your father, too. Use that wisely.

So she did.

She made a choice.

This pain would not defeat her. Try what it might, she wasn't giving in. No more depending on Nyle, or Sam, or anyone. The warrior in her reared its head and screamed victory.