Vengeance

by Amy Miles

  Bastien is pulling away from me as his pain threshold begins to diminish. I can tell that he regrets that first night he spoke to me, retelling me of our past together. When we speak now it is never about us or the past, but rather on this place.

  I watch as he drives the end of his buckle into the soft flesh of the wall. Another mark for another day past. There are nearly half a month’s worth of marks now. Time passes slowly in this room with nothing to see and nothing to do but stare at each other.

  The only time we are allowed to leave is to freshen up in the morning and again at night. Once we started eating and drinking again I found it difficult to ignore my bladder throughout the long day, but what choice did I have? I wasn’t about to drop my pants right in front of Bastien!

  “How much longer do you think they will keep us here?”

  I look up at him, watching as he loops his belt back through his pants. His torn uniform is long gone. It has been replaced by a baggy shirt nearly twice the size of him. His pants are too short, falling about the tops of his ankles. His feet remain bare. Callouses have begun to form on the bottoms as he paces for hours on end each day, like a lion thrust into a cage, always searching for a way out.

  “I don’t know,” I respond, lowering my gaze. I sit cross legged in the opposite corner, digging dirt out from under my nails. I hate being unclean. Even with the possibility of washing once a day I never feel completely clean in this dirty hole of a room.

  Drach has not sent for me since the day I arrived. A part of me is offended by this. A purchased slave or not, I had not expected to be thrown to the side for the next several months until I am ready to give birth. Obviously my expectations were far too high.

  Bastien sighs and releases his buckle, leaning back into the wall. He looks thinner than before. Even with the food that is being provided to us it isn’t enough. Not for a man of his size. And what about my babies? The near constant rumble in my own stomach is enough to make me fear that I am starving them.

  “Do you remember the waterfall in the caves?” He says, surprising me completely.

  “Of course,” I smile, wrapping my arms about me legs. “It was one of my favorite places to visit.”

  His gaze is fixed on the far wall, vacant and lost to the past. “I think that was the place where I first realized that I loved you.”

  He turns to look at me and I see a deep emotion welling inside of him. “You were taking a swim, probably thought you were completely alone. I didn’t tell you at first that I was there. I just...I wanted to watch you for a while.”

  My cheeks flood with heat and I glance away. Bastien barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that. It was dark and you were already in the water when I arrived. I couldn’t really see anything.”

  “Good to know.”

  He smiles and rests his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling instead. “You were so beautiful. There was this...this essence about you that called to me. Any time you were around me you were always on guard. You had a massive chip on your shoulder and something to prove.”

  “Prove what?”

  His smile softens and he rolls his head to the side to look at me. “That you didn’t need anyone. Not Eamon. Not me. Not anyone. You were strong, the strongest person I had ever met, but in that cave you weren’t trying to be anyone but yourself. You were at peace. You were just you. In that moment you were simply breathtaking. I could have watched you for hours.”

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t. I remember how cold that water was.”

  He smirks. “Yeah, well I may have pushed it a little bit once you realized I was there. You always did bring out the fight in me.”

  I laugh. “I’ve got a knack for that it seems. Eamon always says I’m his little spit fire.”

  The instant Eamon’s name passes my lips I see Bastien retreat. My smile falters and I silently chide myself for hurting him. Even though Eamon is my husband and I miss him fiercely, I have tried not to speak of him to Bastien. The topic is obviously a hard one for him to swallow.

  I tug on the ends of my hair. “I don’t remember you watching me swim.”

  “I know.” He sighs and looks away. “But I’ve never forgotten.”

  I look toward the window, knowing that the light is about to fade into night. No, not fade. It’s almost as if someone throws a switch and night falls instantly. Soon the cold will return and Bastien will come to hold me, his back pressed tightly against mine to help keep me warm.

  “I miss that cave. I know to some it might seem silly to miss a dark and dank cavern after having lived in a palace but it is who I am. Who I was born to be.”

  Bastien nods in understanding, no doubt thinking of his own home that he made for himself in the subway tunnels under the city. He has told me that story several times and when he does I can still hear the pride in his voice. He created a life for himself amongst his enemy. I don’t know many men who could have done that. “Do you ever miss Earth?”

  “Yes,” I respond without hesitation. “Every day. I wonder how the renovations are going. What cities will be unearthed. How many new survivors we might discover still hidden away.”

  “You want to be part of all of that, don’t you?” he asks. If Eamon or Kyan had asked me that question I might have given myself a moment to rephrase my answer in a way that it would not be upsetting to them, but with Bastien I speak my mind.

  “Of course. I spent my entire life fighting to survive, to protect what was ours. How could I not long to be there to see it finally restored?”

  Bastien drops his hands onto the floor on either side of him. He runs them over the uneven grains in the floor. “Do you think it ever will be? Restored completely, I mean?”

  “I hope so.”

  After having spent time with Bastien over the past couple of weeks I have accepted the fact that he knows me far better than I would like. At times it’s almost scary how he can finish one of my sentences before I ever know what to say.

  He knows about my abilities. My weaknesses. My strengths. My fears. Although I may have no recollection of our time spent together I no longer doubt the veracity of it.

  “You should go back,” he says, although I’m not really sure if he meant for me to hear that or not. It comes out as a mutter, low enough for me to have to strain to hear it. He looks up and finds me watching him. The tips of his ears glow red through his hair. “I mean when we get out of this place. You and Eamon should visit.”

  “Why do you do that?” I draw my legs up into my chest. I find comfort in this position more and more with each day that passes, as if it is the only true way to hold myself together.

  “Do what?”

  “Say his name like it’s something disgusting that you’ve found on the bottom of your shoe?”

  Bastien winces and color flees momentarily from his fingers as he presses his fingers hard against the ground. “I don’t mean to.”

  “But you do it every time.”

  He sighs. Waves of raven black hair falls over his bowed face, tangling in the growth along his jaw and neck. I have seen Bastien scratching at his new beard and can tell that he’s not happy about it but the Roamers aren’t about to hand him a knife to have a shave with.

  “Eamon and I have a touchy past. You can imagine that we weren't exactly the best of friends when my intentions towards you became clear. He was very protective of his best friend. I don’t fault him for that.”

  I laugh. “You make it sound as if you two had an old fashioned brawl over me.”

  When Bastien doesn’t say anything I swallow. “Seriously? You two did that?” He turns his face away and says nothing.

  “Oh man.” I blow out a breath and shove my hair back out of my face, thinking for the millionth time that if the Roamers ever did give Bastien a knife to shave with I will be chopping off my hair too!

  “I guess I’m starting to see why you felt erasing my memories was the easy way out.”

  “Easy way out?
” Bastien’s head whips around. I blink, shocked to see tears in his eyes. “You have no idea what that decision cost me. I lost everything I ever cared about the day I walked away from you. Nothing mattered anymore. I worked. I slept. I went through the motions but it meant nothing.”

  I press my lips together tightly as I stare into the depths of his raw pain. His eyes are wide. His hands quaking against his legs. Blotches of red appear on his face as he fights to hold back the tears.

  “You are the only good thing I ever had in my life. The only thing worth fighting for.”

  A lump forms in my throat as I swallow. “Then why did you stop fighting?”

  He hangs his head further, so far that it looks like his neck is broken. “Because sometimes surrendering is the only way to truly save the person you love.”

  I do not think I have ever seen a man endure such great pain before. I have seen men fall on a battlefield, heard their moans and pleas for death, but in this moment I realize that Bastien is far worse than any of those fallen men. At least the grave brought them relief, but Bastien...he is still a dead man walking.

  SIXTEEN

  I stare into the dark, listening to Bastien breathe as his chest rises and falls with the steady rhythm of sleep. I can feel his warmth pressed against my back, his arm wrapped around my stomach. Protective. Comforting. Deeply unsettling.

  That he loves me is painfully obvious. The problem is that I don’t have a clue how to process it all. I feel trapped, helpless to make him feel better and yet knowing that even if I tried it wouldn’t make a difference.

  Bastien didn’t speak after his admission. Instead he pulled deep within himself, resting his head on his knees, his head bowed until night arrived. It didn’t take long for the cold to steal away the day’s warmth, forcing us to seek out each other’s company. He was hesitant when he lay down behind me, pressing me in close to the wall to shield me from the cold.

  He lay awake for a long time before sleep finally took him. I could feel his frustration and couldn’t help but wonder if it was directed more at me or himself. I know how hard he has tried to keep his distance these past few days, how much choosing to leave me behind before cost him. At first I was ticked at him for stealing my memories. Who wouldn’t be? They are a part of who I am. But then I spent time with him.

  Bastien is not a self-serving kind of guy. He is kind, gentle and always willing to give of himself for my benefit. I don’t need my memories to know that about him, but even still...it is hard to accept.

  I can’t sleep. Not now. Probably not any time soon.

  I can’t stop thinking about how right it feels to be in his embrace. Instead of being riddled with guilt, which would be the normal reaction for a happily married woman, I find myself thinking of what it would be like to place my hand over his, holding him close instead of pulling away.

  What is wrong with me? I silently chide, raising a hand to brush my hair down over my neck. The feel of his breath against my skin sends goosebumps along my arms as it slips beneath the collar at my neck. You are happy with Eamon. Does it really matter what may have been with Bastien? He is practically a stranger!

  This reasoning sounds logical, but pressed up against him now I know that logic was never the basis of our relationship. I may have forgotten our time together but I know exactly who I am and how I feel. There is an undeniable need to be near Bastien and it is growing with each day that passes. I am starting to feel more than just a basic need for companionship or reliance.

  Tears slip between my lashes as I think over what a mess I’ve gotten myself in to. I love Eamon; there is no denying that. I am carrying his children, a gift that could never be undone, nor would I want it to be, and yet...the fact that there is an ‘and yet’ in my thoughts frightens me. I wipe my nose, sniffling.

  “Are you cold?”

  His whisper surprises me and I jump instinctively. His arm tightens around me as he waits for me to relax once more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I never fell asleep.”

  His simple statement brings a smile to my lips. “You’re sneaky.”

  I can feel the rumble of his chest through my back. “I have my moments.” He presses up onto his side and I know that he is looking down at me even though I can’t see him. “I’m sorry about earlier. I never should have said--”

  “No.” I reach out and grab his arm as he starts to pull away. “I’m not.”

  His intake of breath echoes in my ears. I can feel the tension in his arm but I do not let go. “I do not need my memories to know that I once loved you, Bastien. Probably more than I should have, but you are right. I am married now. I can’t change that, even if I wanted to.”

  This time when he pulls against my grasp I let him go. He rises to a seated position. The cold sweeps in to fill his place and I roll over to face him. “I didn’t mean for that to come across like that--”

  His hand settles atop my shoulder and I fall silent. His fingers clench but do not cause pain. It is almost as if he needs to physically keep me at a distance for the moment. “I knew what I asked from Kyan would be something I had to live with. On Alenida I thought that I could go through with it. That you could live your life and never need to know my name.” He blows out a long breath. I can hear him run his fingers through his hair, his hands curling around his cheeks, scratching against his beard. “When Kyan asked me to come and protect you while he was away on his honeymoon, I wanted to tell him no, to remind him of the very reason why I fled in the first place, but he is a good man. Without his guidance you would have died back on Earth. I owed him a debt for that so I agreed, but it was not a decision that I made lightly.”

  He pauses, dragging in several slow breaths before he continues. “When I saw you coming down the aisle during the wedding I knew it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have been there. I just knew that when you saw me Kyan’s hold on your mind would slip, and I panicked. When you took my arm for me to help you up the stairs I couldn’t bear to look at you. It was like all that time we had spent apart vanished and the pain came rushing back in. And then I looked up and saw you meet my gaze and the world stopped. I saw that you recognized me – but not fully. You were confused and I so badly wanted to go to you, to comfort you and tell you that everything would be ok, but I couldn’t. I gave up that right nearly a year ago.”

  His voice falters. He clears his throat and draws back his hand. “I never meant to hurt you, Illyria. That was the last thing I would ever want.”

  “I know,” I whisper, wrapping my arms about my waist. “Some things just happen.”

  Bastien scoffs. “Only to me.”

  “To us,” I counter. “I’m part of this too, you know?”

  “But you shouldn’t be.” He scoots forward. His hands search for mine. When he finally discovers my hands about my waist he pauses, seeming unsure. I release my hold and allow him to take my hand. He seems to breathe a bit easier. “I promise that I will get you out of this place. I don’t know how or when, but I will.”

  I bite on my lower lip to keep my tears at bay. The turmoil brewing within is stronger than my resolve and a small sob escapes. Bastien’s hand tenses as I draw my hand up to cover my mouth.

  “Illyria?” I bite down on my lip hard enough to split the skin. The taste of blood is on my lips when I feel his hand flutter up my arm. He pauses over my shoulder and then searches higher. When he reaches the moisture on my cheeks he goes still. “Why are you crying? Have I upset you?”

  Without stopping to consider the consequences of my actions I lean into him, pressing my cheek against his chest. His whole body stiffens and for a moment I lean against him awkwardly but then his arms envelop me and draw me close. I wipe at my nose as my tears fall unheeded.

  He comforts me long into the night. My tears come and go but still he holds me. He doesn’t press me for an answer to my tears. He just lets me cry.

  When daylight arrives I wipe my cheeks and dab my swollen eyes. I know that I must l
ook like a frightful mess, but Bastien’s gaze is tender and filled with love that I know I don’t deserve.

  “Please don’t look at me like that,” I whisper and hang my head. My hair drapes over my shoulder, concealing my face.

  “I don’t know of any other way to look at you.” The pure honesty of his words cuts me like a knife, just deep enough to cause great pain but not so deep to be fatal. Oh, how I wish it could be fatal.

  I draw my knees into my chest and begin to rock, knowing that I must tell him. I owe him that much, though I can’t bear to look at him when I do.

  “I’m pregnant,” I whisper, so low that I pray he didn’t hear me.

  I clamp my eyes closed when I hear his breathing catch. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. The temptation to raise my head and look at him is nearly great enough to draw me out from my protective covering, but I dare not. I don’t think I could bear the pain that I know my words have caused him.

  After several moments of silence Bastien clears his throat. I hear him shift, moving away from me. Putting a physical distance between us just like before.

  Tears trail down my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” His voice comes out strangled and pinched. “No. Don’t say that. It’s a good thing. I always knew you would be a great mother.”

  I lift my head and peer through the veil of hair covering my face. His face is ashen, his hands tremble before him but there is determination in his eyes. It scares me.

  I pull back my hair to face him. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” His gaze shifts to meet mine and I see his withdrawal as vividly as if he had just shut a door in my face.

  “Is that your answer for everything? To run and hide?”

  “Hide?” He spits out. Color floods back into his cheeks as his gaze narrows. “I am not a coward. I have faced more horrors on a battlefield than you can even begin to imagine. I have held men as they took their final breaths after having been cut in half. I have watched women and children slaughtered for the mere fact that they were in the way. I’ve watched men burned alive for sport while scouting enemy camps. I am no coward.”