Nether

16. Walk Away

We are taken to an apartment with double rooms. Like the palace, the walls that appear to be made of ice are actually moonstone, and radiate a soft, bluish light. A maid sparks a flame at the fireplace, though it does nothing to warm her features or regard toward us. Despite my previous anger, I'm glad Roane is close by. The past days have taxed on my trust of everyone, but it's not me I fear for. On our way to the room, servants and guards alike watched Roane, their pale faces hardened and their eyes steeled at the sight of him.  If they could've frozen him and shattered him to pieces, I know they would have. And without his weapons, I fear they could.

Roane stands by the wall, tense, and I know he feels the same.

The guard that led us into the room clears his throat and the servants preparing the room rush out behind him. He turns to Roane. "Two guards are stationed outside," he says, mildly, but the true meaning of his words echoes between us: don't you dare try to escape. The guard spins on his heels and walks out, and never once looks at me.

The door closes with a click, and save for the flicker of the flames and my slow exhale, nothing else is heard. Still, it's a deafening silence and the hurt I felt before returns with a vengeance. We have bigger things to worry about, but in this foreign land ruled by a king who would have us killed with the snap of a finger, I'm supposed to trust Roane fully. And yet, he'd kept one of the biggest truths from me. I don't know how to navigate my feelings at the moment and so I don't.

I walk into my bathroom instead. Curls of smoke twine from the surface of the water in the brass tub, and my joints grow watery. I can already feel the warm water soothing every ache and pain inflicted on me by the Shadowmen and the trolls, from leaving Caleb to Roane's secrets...

"I'm taking a bath," I say and start to close the door.

Roane presses a hand against it and keeps the door open. "Wait."

I sigh and pause at the threshold, not ready to talk about this—about us yet. Before I say anything, Roane walks into the washroom and dips a finger into the water. He stays still for a minute then backs away.

"I thought maybe they... whatever, it's safe." He rakes a hand through his hair and leaves me alone to the bath and fog. His worry for me is endearing, and I don't want to be this angry at him, but sadly there are some things you can't just wash away.

Roane is by the window when I come out, once again feeling human. A tunic and skirt had been left for me, and though they're a bit large, I was able to roll it at the waist to make it fit. No need to look the gift horse in the mouth when the alternative was muddy and blood-stained clothing smelling of things no one should reek of.

I pause by the table, my eyes fixed on a plate of barely-eaten fruits and meat.  My heart tightens. Like the way he'd tested the bath, Roane has tasted each one of the foods we'd been given, ready to take on danger for me. I sit in silence and indulge in some food, though I'm not hungry anymore. How can I be when I've had my fill of confusion and bitter regret? 

When I'm done eating, I walk to the sitting area before the large, arched windows. Blankets of snow cover the surrounding lands, more snow falling by the second. Roane is sitting on the sofa, and for a while, neither of us says anything. I want to talk things over and yet, I can't find any words. 

In the reflection of the glass, I watch him stand up. He peels off his shirt and tosses it beside him. Only the outlines of the weapons remain as he was forced to give them up downstairs. He extends an arm and points to the outline of a knife.

"This was my first tattoo. I got it after I killed an opponent, a kid too frail to defend himself. I was ordered to either toughen him up or kill him. He refused to fight and so... I killed him."