by J D Abbas
Elena heard him move. When she looked up, he had inched toward her, shaking his head, chin quivering. He attempted to smile at her, but failed. His mouth worked, trying to form words, but failed again. He knelt down next to Celdorn, tears filling his eyes as he gazed at her. Then he put his head by her side and started sobbing.
“I am going to die then?” She wasn’t sure if she was saddened or relieved.
Braiden lifted his head, surprise on his face. “Oh...n-no, Elena, n-no, you’re not going to d-die.” He rubbed his eyes and tugged at his mouth. “I-I was able to repair m-most everything. I-it’ll require time but”—he faltered—“b-but you’ll live.” He looked down and took a deep breath, swiping at the new tears that fell.
She waited, unable to breathe. Was she going to be forever crippled? Bed-ridden?
He gazed up at her from tormented eyes. “Th-this was my fault. Wh-what happened to you was m-my fault. I-I promised to protect y-you, and-and I left you a-alone. I’m s-so sorry.” He laid his head against her side. “I-I failed you. P-please forgive m-me.”
Elena stiffened. Watching him weep twisted something inside her. She couldn’t endure this right now. She had to stay numb, had to keep the thoughts, the feelings locked away. What was Braiden thinking? Who was she to forgive anyone? She had to get him away from her.
“Braiden, the fault lies with me. I’m like carrion to vultures. Somehow they always come; they always find me. Don’t blame yourself. You should never have been saddled with watching over me.” There was an iciness to her voice that surprised even her and made the men recoil.
Braiden started to argue, but she waved him away. “Go on, get up. Don’t waste your tears on me.” A fierce pain grabbed Elena’s side, and she rolled into it with a strangled yelp.
“Oh n-no. I-I’m so sorry, Elena.” Braiden wiped his eyes. “Y-you’re weary and d-don’t need to be d-dealing with my regrets right n-now.” He poured some water and held the cup to her lips. “H-here, try t-to drink.”
Elbrion lifted her shoulders and moved behind her, letting her lean against his chest. She sipped at the water but couldn’t get her lips or tongue to work. Most of it spilled from the sides.
While she was sitting, Elena lifted the blanket and peeked underneath, horrified by the rows of stitches. “I look pieced together like a quilt.” Not even human. Her heart sank further.
“Y-you had some long knife w-wounds,” Braiden explained. “I-I didn’t bandage them b-because you won’t be moving, and-and we’ll need to c-clean them often.”
The room tilted and Elena heard an acrid voice in her head. Oh joy, more humiliation to look forward to. Her hands moved of their own volition. “Well, my face seems to have more balance now,” the caustic voice said aloud, as her fingers explored the new injuries to the right side as well as the renewed swelling on the left. They traced the hills and vales where there should only have been flatlands. “Now I’m equally ugly no matter which way you look at me.”
The men didn’t seem to like the sarcasm any more than they liked the despair, but they said nothing.
“Anything else I need to know?” she heard her voice ask.
No, I really don’t want to know. Please, no more.
Her eyes went to Braiden, who turned away, then Celdorn.
“One thing at a time, little one.” Celdorn’s brow furrowed as he watched her. “There’ll be time later to talk about your injuries; for now, you need to eat and rest.”
The room tilted again, and Elena sighed with relief. She knew they were withholding something from her, but she was too exhausted and indifferent to care. Thankfully, there was no disagreement inside this time.
~
“Celdorn, what’s wrong with Mikaelin?” Elena noticed he was still slumped in the chair in the corner, his eyes closed. “He’s been there since before Braiden worked on me.”
Which had been hours ago. Elena had slept for a while then attempted to eat some soup with little success. Her stomach could only manage small sips of water. She now lay with her head in Celdorn’s lap, gazing up at him from bleary, oozing eyes. Part of her wanted so badly to push away from him, but part of her was so grateful he was here. The longing to die was still strong, but when he was with her like this, she didn’t want to leave...yet.
“I think he’s just weary. The last twenty-four hours have been overwhelming for him.”
“Why? What happened?”
Celdorn looked across the room. “That’s for him to explain. I’ll just say that he’s an amazing young man whose giftedness surprised us—perhaps him most of all.”
“That’s a mysterious answer.” She studied the scowl on Mikaelin’s face, usually directed at her. “He’s not comfortable with my presence here, is he?”
“It’s not you, Elena. Your life’s story and the emotions he feels emanating from you stir up old pain. At least, that’s what I believe is happening. But trust me, he cares deeply for you. Just a few hours ago, he was ready to suffer, even to die, so that you could live.”
“What do you mean? What did he do?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. Again, I need to leave it for him to tell.”
Elena glared at him. “You don’t say something like that and then not finish it.”
“I’m not trying to be evasive. It’s his story to tell—when he’s ready.”
Celdorn would say no more, and Elena let it go.
A deep bark sounded outside the door, followed by desperate scratching.
“Is it all right if she comes in, Celdorn?” the guard at the door asked, but Sasha didn’t wait for an answer. She shoved past the doorkeeper, bounded into the room, and was ready to leap onto the bed when Mikaelin suddenly sprang to life. He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and pulled her back. “No, Sasha! You’ll hurt her,” he said sharply.
Celdorn had curled over Elena protectively. He straightened and checked to make sure she was all right. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Sasha, what are we going to do with you? You have no manners whatsoever.”
Sasha sat at Mikaelin’s feet, head bent as if ashamed, but her eager eyes were fixed on Elena. Mikaelin staggered back to his seat as if all the energy he had left had been expended. He groaned as he sank into his chair.
Elena eyed Sasha, and a lump formed in her throat. “You’re really all right.” Tears suddenly streamed from her eyes. The dog wiggled closer and gave her hand a good cleaning. Elena used what little strength she had to hook her arm around the dog’s neck and pull her closer. “I thought you were dead,” she sobbed into her silky ear. “I’m so glad to see you.” Sasha let out a low whine and a whimper; she sensed the dog was saying she’d had the same thoughts about her.
Elena drifted back to sleep with a cold, wet nose nuzzling her neck.
~
Braiden entered Elena’s room after being gone for hours. He had needed to walk and clear his mind. He’d screamed and prayed and fought to release all the rage and helplessness he felt. Finally, he’d found some semblance of peace and was able to return to Elena’s sick room where Mikaelin, Elbrion and Celdorn sat in silence. Sasha lay beside the bed in such a way that no one could get to the girl without stepping over her.
“I-I need to reexamine Elena’s w-wounds,” he told Celdorn. Then he glanced at the men, the toll of the last few days evident in the slump of their bodies and weighted countenances. “You three n-need to eat something and g-get some rest. You m-must take care of yourselves, or-or you’ll be of no use to Elena or a-anyone else.”
“Yes, sir.” Celdorn feigned deference as he got up from the bed and stretched.
Elbrion helped Mikaelin to his feet, which was painful to watch. He unfolded slowly, biting his lip with each movement as if every muscle in his body ached. Braiden still didn’t know what had happened in Rhamal, but it looked as if Mikaelin had taken a severe beating. And there were some odd scars on his face that hadn’t been there before.
“We’ll be in my chambers, if you need us,” Celdorn said as t
hey walked out. “Come on, Sasha. Let Braiden do his work.” The dog pricked her ears toward him but refused to move.
“I-it’s all right, C-Celdorn. She can st-stay.” Braiden stepped around the dog, having to shove her out of the way a bit, and began to check Elena’s injuries. “H-have you b-been able to eat?”
“Just broth. I can’t keep anything else down. They’ve been forcing me to drink water too, as much as I can manage.”
“H-hopefully your stomach will be able to t-tolerate food soon. You n-need to rebuild your st-strength.”
Elena was silent as she watched him. He avoided her eyes, trying to keep his emotions in check. It wouldn’t help her if he fell apart again. She needed to see he was convinced she’d heal. His doubts would only frighten her and make her recovery more difficult.
“Braiden?”
He looked up. Elena was staring at him as if waiting for an answer. Had he missed something? “Y-yes?”
Now that she had his attention, she hesitated. He waited, not turning away this time. “Braiden, what is it that you’ve all avoided telling me?”
He immediately focused on the wounds on her chest to give himself time to think.
“Braiden, answer me,” she demanded with as much force as her weak condition would allow—which wasn’t much. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Braiden sighed and pulled a chair next to the bed. This was part of his responsibility as healer. She deserved the truth. He would want the same in her position. So he sat and met her eyes. “El-Elena, in the attack you s-suffered, you”—he faltered—“you were n-not only raped, you were...s-s-sodomized.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth as her brow furrowed. “What is that? I-I don’t know what that means.”
Braiden felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he explained it to her.
A shadow fell over her face, and her eyes went dark. “Oh.” She gave a jaded laugh that sounded almost relieved. “I’m a whore, Braiden. That happens all the time. I just didn’t know it was called that.”
Her nonchalance shocked him. “S-stop calling yourself th-that. You were a victim of abusive m-monsters. You didn’t ch-choose that life.” Braiden caught himself and softened his tone. “You d-deserve more respect than th-that, even from yourself.”
The shadow passed, and Elena’s gaze dropped. She looked beaten down once again, the air of defiance gone. Sasha sat up and burrowed her nose into Elena’s neck.
Braiden continued. “Though you m-may have experienced being s-sodomized before, this time there was...d-damage.”
“Damage?”
The fear that exploded from her almost knocked him from his seat. He gripped the chair and steadied himself. “Y-your attacker was a large m-man, too large for your b-body.” He made himself explain, telling her of the injury to her bowel.
Sasha pulled back from Elena with a yelp, and a terrified child suddenly stared at him in her place.
Braiden rubbed his eyes, unnerved by having to explain this to a child. “I-I did my best to stitch it b-back together.”
“Did it work?” Elena appeared to be herself again.
Braiden pressed on his temples, feeling on the edge of madness. “W-we won’t know for a few days. W-we need to be careful about wh-what you eat and make sure you c-can eliminate.”
Elena turned away, clearly horrified and humiliated. His heart ached for her. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“W-we’ll hope it d-does.”
Her voice grew more intense. “What if it doesn’t?” With a yelp, Elena winced and curled onto her side, suppressing a scream. Pain drove all color from the girl’s face. Sasha licked Elena’s shoulder, looking worried.
“El-Elena, you can’t afford to get upset. B-breathe deeply. I-I’ll answer you.” He laid his hand on her arm and waited for the pain to pass. “I-if it doesn’t work, y-you won’t be able to control your b-bowels.” Seeing her despair, he quickly added, “b-but I believe it will. I-I did a good job of repairing it. B-but we have to be careful to let it heal and not m-make the muscle work too soon.”
“We?” Everything about her darkened again. “Is it your ass that’s damaged? Is it your ass people are crawling inside? No! It’s mine. My bowels that I won’t be able to control...like...like a baby. Don’t say we.”
Braiden felt his own anger flare. “Y-you’re right. It isn’t my ass, b-but I’m responsible for taking c-care of your ass. S-so it is we. My job is to m-make sure you don’t spend your life in d-diapers. So you’re g-going to have to c-cooperate with me on this,” he said more loudly than he intended.
Sasha’s hackles went up, and she let out a low growl. Braiden leaned back and held up his hands in surrender toward the dog. Elena, on the other hand, was so shocked by his inappropriate outburst, she just gaped at him. He had much to learn about being a healer.
“I-I’m sorry, El-Elena. I’m t-tired and upset. I-I shouldn’t have said that.”
Elena played with Sasha’s ear. “No, you’re right. I can’t do this without you.” She paused, focusing on smoothing the dog’s bristled fur. “I want it to work, Braiden. If I’m forced to live then I don’t want to do so with that humiliation. It’s been difficult enough while I’ve been ill and reacting to the pain.” Elena turned her gaze back to him. “I’m...grateful for your skills.”
Her response was like a knife twisting in his gut. It was his fault she had to face this humiliation at all. He wanted to punch a wall again.
~
Elena withdrew into herself, contemplating what the future would be like for her in this place. She couldn’t continue having the men clean up her messes, dependent on them for everything. She couldn’t live like that.
But what chance was there she’d recover? And if she did, what then? Another assault would surely come. Her attacker was right. This was her destiny, not the folk tales these Guardians had been telling her. There would be no happy endings, no family, no life filled with love. Not for her.
She let go of Sasha and curled onto her side, facing the wall. No tears would come to her deadened eyes.
Chapter 43
“Let me begin by telling you what I found upon my return to Kelach.” Celdorn paused to clear the lump in his throat.
The men of his inner circle had just returned and had immediately come to his chamber. A full day had passed since Celdorn had left Rhamal, and he knew they were anxious to know and to tell what had transpired since they had last seen him.
“After we left here the other day, probably some time that very afternoon, Elena was assaulted in her room.” Heads snapped up around the table and a palpable tension filled the room. “By someone in the keep—a Rogaran.” There were murmurs of protest followed by a stunned silence. “He hasn’t been found. We don’t know if he’s fled or is hiding.”
“How is she? Elena?” Silvandir interrupted. He looked stricken. “Is she...is she all right?” He glanced at Braiden, who stared down at his clenched fists.
“She was in poor condition when we arrived,” Celdorn replied. “She wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her before we returned.” He gave the men as detailed a description of the attack as he could bring himself to do. Celdorn paused to let the men absorb the information, information with which he still struggled. “I tell you this so you won’t be shocked when you see her. She’s extremely frail right now.”
As he had expected, the men were devastated by the news. Braiden couldn’t help openly weeping, feeling responsible for Elena’s fate no matter how much they told him otherwise. Silvandir looked as if his heart had been ripped from him. He jumped up and paced the length of the table, running his hands through his hair. “How did this happen? This floor was under guard.”
“We haven’t found that answer. We don’t know how he could have reached her, yet he did.”
“And he’s Rogaran? One of our own?” Celdorn heard the unspoken in Silvandir’s words: one of the men I trained? One of the men I’m responsible for? He knew Silvandir would put the blame squarely on his
own shoulders.
“J-judging by his size, he had to b-be,” Braiden replied, without looking up.
“From Elena’s description he must be three or four inches taller than I,” Celdorn added. “There are only a handful of men anywhere who can make that claim. We should be able to find him but have not.”
“Will she survive?” Silvandir was looking from Celdorn to Braiden, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears.
“I-I have done my b-best to repair her, b-but the d-damage was severe,” Braiden replied. “I’m h-hoping she’ll strengthen now that the wounds are m-mended, but I d-don’t know.”
“May I see her?” Silvandir’s question was abrupt, almost desperate.
Celdorn studied him. Whatever was happening inside Silvandir, Celdorn needed to honor it. “Yes, she’s in the antechamber with Elbrion.” He gazed at the younger man, filled with a fatherly tenderness and concern that surprised him. “Brace yourself, Silvandir. It’s a difficult sight.”
Silvandir gave a terse nod and immediately moved toward the small room.
~
Silvandir stepped into the antechamber as quietly as he could and closed the door behind him. Elbrion was sitting next to the bed holding Elena’s hand. When he looked up, Silvandir saw the immense grief in his eyes. Sasha’s head lay on the blankets next to Elena’s hips, and she was staring at the girl with a heartwrenching expression, one he’d never seen her use before.
Silvandir’s gaze shifted to Elena, and he drew a sharp breath. Oh, my... His resolve wavered, and his knees nearly buckled. Sasha’s gaze shifted to him, and her tail thumped.
“It is all right, Silvandir. Come closer.” Elbrion beckoned, moving his chair to the side.
Silvandir dropped to his knees beside the bed. Elena’s face—her already bruised and deformed face—a Rogaran did this? His hands were shaking; he curled them into fists to still them. It looked as if someone had taken a cudgel to the right side of her head and struck repeatedly, mercilessly. The injuries on the left side had also darkened but were now more grossly distended. She was so pale in between the bruising, it was difficult to believe there was still life in her. The slow rise and fall of her chest seemed to be the only indication. Silvandir saw the top of the knife wounds on the part of her chest—her fragile, delicate, far too pallid chest—that was exposed. He shuddered.
