Seraphina's Lament (The Bloodlands Book 1)

by Sarah Chorn

  Back.

  Had she been taken? Memories overwhelmed her.

  “I know your brother!” the girl whispered. She held her hands up, approaching slowly, warily, peering at Seraphina’s cowering form under the bush. “I know your brother, Neryan. I can take you to him!”

  “Why should I trust you?” Seraphina hissed back.

  The girl looked around and shrugged, an odd smile curling her lips. “Looks like you’ve got no other choice, Seraphina. It’s just you and me out here, and a whole lot of nothing else. There are the guards, of course. You could go back, and Eyad would take you in. You could return to that life, or you can trust me to take you to your brother.”

  “Neryan?” she asked. It felt odd to say his name after years of not letting it cross her lips.

  The girl took a few steps toward her. “Yes, Neryan. He’s not far. Just up the road a little way, waiting. Waiting for you.”

  The girl took another step forward.

  “You’re going to need help getting there. I know ways to Neryan where no patrol will think to look. I know you’re in pain, but we need to get moving. It’s a simple choice; trust me, or trust him.” She thumbed behind her, toward the Reach.

  And that had been that. The girl had helped Seraphina up, waited while she flung an arm around her shoulders. She’d helped her walk by taking all the weight she could handle, until all that forward motion had overwhelmed Seraphina and, somewhere along the way, she’d blacked out, the pain too much for her to handle.

  It hit her then, the realization that the memory was not a dream. It forced the air from her lungs, her stomach contracted. Panic surged through her, lit her up from the inside.

  She thrashed around, fought the tangle of sheets in the bed, tipped over the side and slid to the floor in a heap. She tried to gain her feet, but fell again, her knees and muscles refusing to bear her weight.

  Hands grabbed her shoulders and a scream ripped from her throat. It wasn’t a human sound. This was the sound terror made when it opened its mouth. Her body shuddered and the person let her go. She curled in on herself, shrinking down as small as possible.

  She shook, her whole body quivering like a leaf caught in the wind. She couldn’t keep herself still. Her mind was racing, full of so many thoughts; the need to run, to put distance between herself and whoever owned those hands, was almost an obsessive drive.

  “Hush,” the voice said again, soft and patient. Familiar. “Hush. I won’t touch you again. You’re safe here.” It was a man. She could tell by the depth of his voice, the way it rumbled a little at the edge of her hearing. “Safe.”

  Those words, over and over again, turning into a litany.

  The robe she’d been wearing had come undone when she slid to the floor, the back of it opening, cool air sliding across her scarred skin. She heard a hiss of air escape through his teeth, knowing whoever this was had seen the ruin of her back.

  No, no, no, don’t look. Please don’t look…

  “I’m going to close your robe, Seraphina,” the man said. “That’s it. I’m not going to touch more than that, okay?” A pause. “Are you ready?” She braced herself, nodded once. Felt him tie the sash, covering her up again.

  “You’re safe,” he said.

  His hands were gentle, and perhaps that’s what jarred her out of her panic. Warm hands carefully closing the back of her gown. Hands that didn’t impose their will on her or hold a nation between them. Just hands. Calloused, and kind. They weren’t Eyad’s.

  He wasn’t Eyad.

  He kept talking, a steady stream of quiet words that meant nothing to her, and she hung onto every one of them as though he was offering her a lifeline, pulling her to safer shores.

  “Vadden is outside,” he said. He’d moved away, but not far, and she began to rise from the darkness. “And Mouse is… I don’t know where she is, but we’ve all been waiting for you, Seraphina. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up.”

  “Who is Mouse?” she finally asked. She still couldn’t look up, still curled up on the floor, eyes squeezed shut; afraid this was all a dream and reality would assault her with whips and she would? start bleeding as soon as she opened them.

  “My adopted daughter,” the voice replied after some hesitation.

  “And Vadden?”

  “A friend. He’s like a brother to me.” A pause. She heard him shuffle, shifting his weight. “You’re safe now, Seraphina. You can open your eyes.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because this is the best dream I’ve had in years, and it will be the only thing that keeps me going when I wake up.” She thought she heard a sob catch in his throat. Then, he was beside her, arms wrapped around her, and warmth and home pervaded her senses. She stiffened, bit out a gasp, her body going rigid.

  “Dreams are not warm,” he whispered as he held her. “They do not have beating hearts.”

  “Neryan?” she finally whispered.

  She’d been afraid to say his name. Afraid that the second she uttered it, her house of cards would fall, and she’d know this for what it was; dust. The fantasies of a sleeping mind. She felt the instant her talent recognized him, felt herself loosen up, her limbs uncoil, her lungs relax and her heart slow. She felt her flame reach out and find its opposite.

  His water touched her fire and steam hissed in the air. Her element would always know him. Always. Balance formed, and held. Deep inside, something clenched and tense began to ease, relaxing in a way she hadn’t in years. It was a relief so profound it brought tears to her eyes. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been struggling to keep her fire contained until the moment they’d touched, and everything had aligned so perfectly.

  Her mind took longer to sway. Years of slavery, of subtle torments, had engrained themselves on her psyche. It was slow to understand, to believe, and a few minutes slid past, each one its own aeon, before she let out a sob of relief and turned just enough to wrap her arms around him.

  “I got away,” she choked out. He held onto her, tears mingling, words shaken by the force of their relief. “I don’t really know how, but I got away.”

  “You remember when you saw Mouse?” he asked, sitting back.

  She looked up then, eyes opening, seeing and believing all at once and for the first time. His gaze held steady, his eyes fixed on her. He was broader now, his pale skin flushed with freckles and sunlight, but he was still Neryan. Still her brother, and he was here. Or she was there.

  They were together.

  “The girl?” Seraphina asked.

  Neryan nodded. “Yes, her name is Mousumi. She’s my daughter. She was in the Reach, trying to get information about you. She saw you escape, followed you out, brought you to me. It was…”

  He ran a hand through his hair, longer now, hanging in loose curls to his chin. His breath shuddered, and he wiped away a tear.

  “Seraphina, that was the luckiest thing I could ever imagine happening. Out of all the places Mouse could have been, all the times she could have gone there, the two of you…”

  And suddenly he was hugging her, his entire body shaking, arms so tight they were cutting off her air, but who needed to breathe?

  “I was so worried you’d never wake up,” he whispered.

  “How long was I asleep?”

  “Over a week. We were going to take you to the Reach.”

  “You were going to take me back to Lord’s Reach? Back to Eyad?” she pulled away and scooted across the floor, putting as much distance between them as she could manage with her muscles protesting every movement. Was he mad? Did he not want her here? She quickly scanned the room for a way out, somewhere to run. One door; that was it.

  “No,” Neryan reached out to her. “We were going to go find you a hedge witch. Seraphina, the countryside is dead. There’s no one out here anymore. The only places to go are into the Red Desert or into Lord’s Reach. The Reach is only a day from here, and I thought you were sick. I
thought you were dying.”

  She studied him, looked into his eyes. The brother she’d known would never have betrayed her, never sent her back to Eyad, but was he that same man now? She was prepared to believe that everyone would betray her, even her brother. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

  She breathed deep and looked around herself again. They were in a cabin. Wood ceiling. Wood walls. Wood floor. One tiny window that was yellow and crusted with age and neglect, set in the wall beside the door. A fire roared in the hearth, the flames so high they licked up the chimney and disappeared from sight, fueled by her terror, her panic and her confusion.

  She pinched her arm, hard.

  She was here. She was now. Eyad was not lurking outside. Neryan would not betray her.

  She repeated those facts to herself over and over again, until she almost believed them.

  She ached. She’d twisted it in her panic and now her leg felt like it was splitting in half and her spine was a knot of agony. She shifted, tried to find relief, but the only position she could find it in was kneeling, her body used to it after years of being forced into it for hours on end.

  Kneeling. It felt like a slap, like the very act was rubbing her face in the misery of her past.

  She shifted, and knelt, her head bowed. Anger tore through her, a deep, pulsing rage. The kind that could make the sun burn brighter. Years’ worth of fury roared inside, and the fire in the fireplace seemed to howl in response. She had been an owned creature her entire life, always at the mercy of others. For the past ten years, Eyad had been the force that moved her. He had humiliated her. Abused her. Disabled her. He had left his mark on her flesh, and she would carry it with her always.

  The door to the house burst open and heavy footsteps thumped across the floor.

  “Neryan! What’s going on?” A new voice boomed in the closed space of the cabin.

  “Seraphina,” she heard Neryan say. He was reaching out to her, his hand shaking, water pooling under his body. “You’ve got to calm down. You’re going to burn the house down.”

  His hand landed on her arm, a solid presence, and squeezed gently. Water met fire. Steam hissed in the air. The fire in the fireplace guttered and died, becoming nothing more than a pile of ash and coals glowing like eyes.

  “She’s fine,” Neryan told the man across the cabin.

  She looked up then, and saw the stranger standing warily inside the door. He was tall and broad, with long black hair hanging in dreadlocks, skin midnight-dark, and a white lightning brand on his angular cheek. His eyes were wide, watching as though he wasn’t sure if he should stay, or run.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. His voice was accented, with the subtle tones of an expensive education that she recognized from years of kneeling through meetings with ministers.

  “She has only just woken up, Vadden. Give her time to adjust,” Neryan admonished. “As long as I’m close, my water can control her fire. She’s fine. We’re fine.”

  Seraphina wasn’t fine. She was living in a world that existed well beyond fine. All she was aware of was her twisted back, the pain in her leg, the throb in her hip, and the fact that kneeling like a slave was the only way she could get relief. She’d always be wearing those chains, and that burned her up.

  “I am fine,” she lied, painting a thin smile on her lips. She wondered if that was a lie she’d have to repeat for the rest of her life.

  “We’ll get through this,” Neryan said, keeping a hand on her. Vadden took a step forward and panic surged through her again. She bit out a yelp of fear and tucked herself against the wall, clenching her hands covering her face.

  “Shit,” Vadden hissed. He knelt down before her, somewhere near the center of the cabin’s single room. “I’m sorry, Seraphina. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  He didn’t touch her, but she felt his eyes scan her head to foot. She pulled her hands down and forced herself to look at him.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?” Neryan bit out. “Look at her.”

  “There is more than one way to be hurt, Neryan,” Vadden muttered darkly, scowling at her brother. He turned his attention back to her, studying her intensely before meeting her eyes. “I am sorry for what you have been through, but he will never get you again, Seraphina. You are not a slave anymore, not to him, not to anyone.”

  Was that it? Did he think she’d just wake up, and everything would be fine? That she’d open her eyes, have a good stretch, and the past would be erased? There were different ways to be a slave—to a man, to an idea, to a memory, to pain—and she doubted she’d ever truly be free. Eyad had seen to that. She knew Vadden was just being kind, and she should be thankful to him, but it was too much. Too much was happening, too much sensation, too much of a reality that was dark and hard. She still wasn’t quite sure this was real, that she was here with her twin brother, and enough anger to turn the world to ash.

  “Are you hungry?” Neryan asked, and yes, she realized, she was starving.

  “I think I’ve got an apple hidden away,” Vadden said. He exchanged a meaningful glance with Neryan, an entire conversation passing between them in an instant of silence.

  Vadden slowly stood, as if wary of spooking her, and went to a small leather pack hanging on a hook by the door. Seraphina watched his every movement, making sure he was doing what he said he was doing. He met her eyes, opened the flap on his bag, reached inside and, with one hand raised in surrender, he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulled out a withered apple.

  “It’s yours,” he said. “If you want it.”

  She’d only wanted one thing for so long, she wasn’t sure how to want anything else, but her body spoke for her, her stomach letting out a mournful lowing that echoed in the tiny cabin. Vadden moved slowly again, to his belt, and pulled out a knife. He showed it to her, held in the air between his forefinger and thumb before he turned it, and focused entirely on the apple, slicing it up, its skin parting. The bite of metal into flesh was all she could hear, all she could see. Her entire world was that apple, withered and puckered, exhausted by life, and the knife, gleaming with sharp purpose.

  “I want him to die.”

  She blinked, and realized it was her voice she had heard, cold and hard as the world itself. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She hadn’t even realized she’d been thinking it, but there it was—laying exposed and naked in the middle of the room. Vadden’s smooth motion stopped, the knife hovering in the air for a moment, the muscle in his jaw working, before he started cutting slices again, letting them fall like stones onto the table beside him.

  “Seraphina?” Neryan asked. “Who? Who do you want to die?”

  “Eyad,” she replied. She’d never been more certain of anything in her life. “Either he dies, or I die. This world is not large enough to have both of us in it.”

  No one spoke for a time.

  Then Neryan moved, helped her stand and walk to the table, her back hunched, leg dragging, pain trying to claw its way out. The motion slow and awkward. Her muscles weak after so many days spent sleeping. “We only have a few apples left,” he said. “This one is yours.”

  The apple looked terrible, but her stomach didn’t care. She lifted a piece to her mouth. Vadden studied her, cleaning the blade of the knife on his pants before it disappeared back into the sheath at his waist. He shifted, just enough so his face was hidden behind his hair, but his eyes never left hers.

  “It is a hell of a thing to kill a man,” he finally said. “To decide the value of a person is less than that of any other. You aren’t just taking a life, but snuffing out a soul, and once it’s done, that’s it. You can’t un-ring a bell.”

  She chewed on her apple, letting his words roll over her.

  “Those faces will follow you forever.” His voice was a pain-filled murmur, a lullaby of regret. “Think carefully before you saddle yourself with ghosts.”

  He exchanged a look with Neryan, and then, in two strides, he was out of
the cabin, the door shutting behind him. It was just her and her brother.

  “Neryan—”

  “Just rest, Seraphina. Just eat and rest. We’ll figure out tomorrow later. Right now, I just want to forget the world exists.”

  She nodded, and ate another slice of apple.

  Vadden

  The cabin was quiet, save for Neryan and Seraphina’s steady breathing. They shared the bed, him stretched out, her curled up, both finding sleep at the same moment. It was almost uncanny how aligned they seemed, how synchronized they appeared to be without any effort at all. When one was hungry, so was the other. When one was tired, so was the other.

  Mouse had run off sometime after the sun set, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He knew he should sleep, but the cabin was warm and his thoughts were cold. He didn’t want to wake Seraphina or Neryan up with his restlessness so he went outside.

  The fresh air was a slap in the face after the stuffiness of the cabin. The night made him more alert. The moon was a scythe meant for cutting, hanging low in the sky like a threat.

  One thing was abundantly clear after watching Seraphina and Neryan over the past few hours—one could not exist without the other. Before she’d woken, Neryan had seemed to have some sort of a handle on his talents, albeit one that was slipping. But since Seraphina had come back to herself, both of their talents were spiraling out of control, spinning opposite each other, faster and more reckless. If they were apart for any length of time, Neryan seeped water from his very pores, while Seraphina’s skin began to smoke. They’d latch onto each other, a single hand on an arm, or an embrace, until they beat their elements back, steam hissing around them as water met fire. Staying together was simply easier than facing the inevitable fallout, so they remained close. Where one went, the other had to go too.

  It complicated things.

  Vadden left the cabin behind and wandered into the nearby trees, ambling around, making it appear as though he was up to nothing much, and going nowhere special.