Chapter 36-Blame
Kyla lay back in the tub, staring off into space. Her mind was switched off, thinking of nothing at all. She could hear Nuala or Cerridwen outside in her room, changing sheets, collecting dishes, or doing whatever they thought needed doing. They had been anxious to get in there and but Kyla wouldn't leave. She couldn't move.
They had left the Day Court subtly and quickly, as soon as her broken body could handle the winnow. Helion personally escorted them to the platform, a mixture of concern and fury on his face. She tried to give him a smile of thanks for looking after her but all she could see was blood on the gravel. It had long since been cleaned up, but she could still see it everywhere. She leaned heavily on Azriel, finding comfort in the closeness instead of fear, and he gripped her tightly as they winnowed back to Velaris.
She went straight to bed and stayed there, barely acknowledging anyone or anything for three days before finally mustering the energy to rise and take care of herself. No one else will.
A soft knock at the bathing room door brought her mind back to the present. It was Cerridwen asking if she needed anything. She probably already knows the answer, Kyla thought with annoyance. They were just asking to check up on her. Wraiths.
"No. Thank you," Kyla said simply.
The knock came again and the handle on the door starting turning. They hadn't heard her.
"Thank you! No!" Kyla said with more force. It was all her voice could handle, barely more than a harsh whisper.
The handle was released and footsteps moved away from the door. Kyla exhaled deeply and sank lower in the tub, forcing her toes up out of the water at the other end. Even her toes were damaged. The nail on her big toe was blue; old injury from sparring practice. A poorly placed kick.
Her gaze moved up her legs noting the various scars, some she could identify and some were mysterious injuries beyond her memory. Her knees had small scabs from where she had fallen to the gravel. Theron could have easily fixed them, but he had bigger problems to address at the time. Probably didn't even know her knees where scraped.
Kyla's eyes moved up to her hips. Where she had let Azriel put his hands in the dance. Just Azriel, no one else. There was another. A male from Day had grabbed her hips and tried to force her to dance. She kicked him between his legs. Normally that would have brought a smile to her face, a small victory. She was happy at the time, proud of herself. Now she was just numb.
A deep, dark bruise covered her chest. Her ribs had been broken and healed more times than she could count. Are they permanently damaged, she wondered. Perhaps they break more easily now? It wasn't normal for a twenty-five year old girl to have her ribs broken that many times. But what did she know? She had no idea what was normal for humans.
She brought her hands up, rinsing the water over her shoulders and held one up to the light. Steam rose from her hand as the hot water met the cooler air, like her skin was on fire. The bath was almost unbearably hot. She wanted it that way. She wanted to burn the feel of him off of her. Steam rose in the air and twirled as she waved her hand around. She blew across her palm softly like she was blowing a spell away, and could see it leave her body in the tendrils of smoke.
Her other hand traced a line up between her breasts and rested on her throat. Her throat that had been slashed. He had opened it up with the slice of his knife and her life's blood poured out on the gravel of that courtyard. The hot water trickling down her neck felt like that warm blood again, running down her shoulders and across her front. Now only a faint scar remained, Thesan having pulled the flesh together and saved her life.
A miracle.
But not really.
It was the healing power of Dawn that had saved her. Who knows if Rhys or Feyre had enough of that power to do the same. It was lucky that Thesan had been there.
Lucky?
Was she lucky that when her worst nightmare came to life, a High Lord had been there to put the pieces back together?
She didn't feel lucky. She felt broken. Defeated. Sad.
The water had grown cold but Kyla remained letting her hair float on the surface. It was longer again. Not as long as it had been but had grown past her shoulders over these winter months in the Night Court. How long, she wondered.
She and Azriel had arrived in late summer. Cool nights, but warm days. The first frost had come by the time she was able to leave the house and explore Velaris that first time.
Leave the house.
She needed to leave the house again. And go…where? Where am I going?
East. She had been going east when Ragre and his gang had found them. Azriel had ended the attack quickly but Kyla didn't stay to watch, and fled east. Right off the edge of the mountain, and Azriel had caught her. Had she been looking east when she fell from the House of Wind? No, the sun was setting across the bay. But she was facing away from it, which is why she did slipped off the edge. Facing east, looking at Azriel. Angry with him for expecting her trust based on scraps of information. For assuming that she wouldn't think for herself.
She had shouted at him. He was just trying to help and she yelled at him for it. And still he caught her. He asked her to return to the cabin at the training camp. He didn't make her, he asked her, and she ignored him and barreled east, and he caught her anyway. He didn't want her to be the bait to trap Ferrik either. He pleaded with them to find another way but they all reassured her that it was safe. She would be safe in their company.
But they were wrong.
They were arrogant, foolish. And drunk. It was a sloppy plan to begin with. What did they think was going to happen? That Ferrik was going to attack her right there in the ballroom in front of everyone? So stupid. All their backups had failed. Feyre alone could have destroyed Ferrik in the blink of an eye but she was unconscious. Morrigan and Amren poisoned. The males fell into their own trap, following their thirst for blood and the glamoured server out of the ballroom thinking it was Ferrik. While the real Ferrik easily collected Kyla in the bathing room.
So easy. All that training for nothing. One male, drugged and weak, had still beaten her. She hadn't even brought her ash dagger with her. It was designed to fit under her dress, expressly for this purpose. Why didn't she have her own backup plan? Why did she expect the faeries to save her? Enoch was likely cursing at her stupid mortal ways from the afterlife.
Enoch. Eskrie. I didn't save you then only to have you die now.
They died saving her and she almost threw it away with a careless plan.
Get up. Run.
That's what they had said. Run where? She was sick of running. That's why she volunteered to face Ferrik. So she wouldn't have to run anymore. But it hadn't fixed anything. She was no further than when she started, just with more scars and no story behind them.
Get up.
She did.
Rhys was in his study, the early summer sunshine streaming in the open windows, a light breeze carrying the scent of fresh flowers and tilled soil in the room. His desk was covered in papers. Lists, inventories, reports, requests, suggestions, demands. He tried to focus on them but he was really listening to the house. Footsteps sounded upstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen went about their tasks. Everyone else was out, doing what needed to be done. Everyone but Kyla, who hadn't left her room since they returned from Day.
But now he could hear her descend the stairs, slowly but steadily. Rhys started to rise to meet her in the foyer but heard the steps coming toward him, so instead flicked his wrist and a tea service appeared on his desk, and he poured two cups. As predicted, Kyla shyly peered in from the hallway, glancing around to see if he was there. He smiled up at her and gestured to the tea service and chairs by the open window looking out over the patio.
Kyla tried to give him a small smile but it didn't reach her eyes. He waited for a witty remark, a joke about sleeping for so long, or about him anticipating her arrival. But instead she looked out the window across Velaris, nodded her thanks at the cup of tea he placed in her hands, and sipped silently. Rhys sat with her for a time, a comfortable silence between them.
"Madja will be by later today to do a thorough check up. She came earlier but said rest was likely the most important thing, so left you sleeping."
Kyla nodded lightly and sipped again, inhaling the sweet scent of the tea. When she opened her eyes, she blinked away her thoughts and looked over to Rhys.
"I'm ready. Tell me," she said simply. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She didn't have to elaborate, Rhys knew what was she was looking for.
He clenched his jaw, looking out the window and away from her intense stare. He had been trying for three days to figure out how he was going to tell her what he learned from Ferrik, and in what order. And how much. It pained him to think it but he debated holding back, to protect her. Not protect her from danger, but protect her from knowledge. Some secrets are kept for a reason, Mor had said that day on the beach. Ferrik hadn't really given them any answers, and that almost made it worse. All that Kyla had been through was really just his derangement and sick personality. She would be left with more questions than explanations. Did she need to know she was a two hundred year-old human? How would that help?
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.
"I'm sure you saw this, little escapes your notice, but he was addicted to a drug that made him…" Insane? Evil? Sick? "…that way."
"Why?"
"It was hard for me to tell; his mind was shredded. There's a sorcerer across the sea who had hired Ferrik to find you. Hired, blackmailed, bribed…I can't be sure. But he used Ferrik's addiction to control him, and Ferrik became obsessed with breaking the spell on the Cabin. You were 'the prize' and he was looking forward to his rewards."
Kyla shook her head slowly but didn't look at Rhys. She just continued to stare out the window, clutching her cup of tea to her chest.
"Why?"
"We know little of this sorcerer, but we've heard of him before. Queen Vassa is cursed by him in the mortal lands. She was sold out by the other queens before the war with Hybern, but we haven't been able to help her. Elain saw in a vision that there were others trapped too. Seems the sorcerer collects them for his own, and Ferrik was to bring you to add to it."
"But...why?" Kyla breathed.
Rhys' chest felt heavy. Why did this happen to her? What was she doing there in the first place? Kyla desperately wanted answers and Rhys had none to give. He shook his head sadly.
"So the sorcerer knows who I am. He wanted me for…something," she concluded.
Rhys shrugged. "I don't know that he cursed the Cabin though. You would think that if he had placed the spell to begin with he would have given Ferrik the tools to break it. But it's like he knew about the Cabin and the curse, and made it Ferrik's problem to figure out."
Kyla just nodded sadly and her eyes darted around like she was weighing the theories in her mind, or trying to sort through the memories. She didn't swear, or cry, or scream and shout. Rhys would have almost preferred that display of emotion. Instead she was cold and her eyes looked so tired. Two hundred years of torture, tired.
"Where is he now?"
"Azriel has already started looking, sending word to his spies everywhere."
Kyla's face blanched and her hand started shaking. Her eyes went wide and she looked at Rhys with pure terror flooding her body. Rhys sat up straight and looked out the window for the threat but then realised his mistake.
"The sorcerer! Not Ferrik! Azriel is looking for the sorcerer," Rhys clarified. "Ferrik is in the Day Court dungeon. Helion has him under constant guard." Rhys leaned forward in his chair and reached out to put a reassuring hand on Kyla's knee but she subtly shifted away. Rhys tried to cover his mistake up by pouring more tea in his cup. "He's locked up. He can't get you anymore."
Kyla winced and looked away as her breathing returned to normal. But her face was pinched and tears filled her eyes. She swallowed hard and shook her head but looked like she was just trying to keep from crying and couldn't speak.
"Hey, it's okay," Rhys reassured her. "We're all here for you. Azriel, Cassian, Mor, Feyre, even Lucien and Amren, they are all here and will keep you safe."
"Please stop saying that," Kyla whispered down to her tea.
Rhys frowned. "But it's true. You're a member of this court and a very dear to us. We want to help."
"But you can't. And then I…I trusted. I should have trusted…Azriel," she breathed as a silent tear fell down her cheek.
Rhys leaned forward again and tried to get her to look at him. "You can't blame Azriel. He lo—he wants so desperately to help you. He cares about you very much."
Kyla sniffed and sat up straight. She looked outside again and said, "I don't blame Azriel." She turned a cold stare on Rhys and spoke with a steady voice. "I blame you."
Rhys' eyes went wide in surprise. He met her stare silently, uncomfortably.
"You and Feyre and Mor and Cassian." Kyla's breathing was ragged but she held the High Lord's eyes as her anger spilled over. "I blame you for using me as bait. For your arrogance in thinking you could catch Ferrik in a trap. For convincing me I was more than I am. I blame Feyre and Mor for letting me think I was strong; that I could be like them. I can never be like them! And I blame Cassian for giving me tools, giving me confidence. False hope that I could actually do something against a faerie. Instead my throat was cut!"
If she had more voice, she would have been shouting. Instead her words were raspy and pained, like Rhys could hear the consequences of their actions in the tone of her voice. He searched for something to say, some way of defending his family, but it was hard to argue against her. They had done all those things. They promised to protect her in the city, that first day they explored Velaris, and they lost her. They offered to help her live again, and then accused her being a spy. They brought her on a vacation and she nearly drowned. They took her to the war camp and she was attacked. Twice. And then they went to a party and her worst nightmare came true.
"And I blame myself," Kyla finished. "Azriel is the only one who got it right. He didn't want me to go, he didn't want to set the trap. But I had this confidence, this cockiness, that I could do anything I set my mind to. I am so naïve! What was I thinking? That a mortal could just join the faerie world and everything would work out? That people would just accept me like there was no real difference between us? How could I be so ignorant?"
Rhys stared at her, open mouthed. But her face conveyed more pain than anger now. Like she was sad that things hadn't worked out like she hoped and frustrated with her own foolishness.
"Kyla I…I'm so sorry we failed you."
She deflated at that. She collapsed back in the chair and put her face in her hand, rubbing the tears out of her eyes. "You didn't fail me. I failed myself. I stopped thinking for myself and let others make the decisions for me. I got so comfortable here that I pushed all my problems aside and pretended like they weren't there, then blamed others for not solving them for me."
She stood suddenly and paused like she was going to add more. "I'm sorry too," was all she said before she left the room and walked out of the house.