Journey to Queyon: The Innocence Cycle, Book 3

by J D Abbas

  Celdorn tried to speak through the delirium. “Elena, we aren’t punishing you. We’re helping you.”

  “No,” she wailed. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be a good girl. I won’t fight anymore. I’ll smile. I promise.”

  Elena’s words crippled Celdorn. He realized she was lost in another place, and his message couldn’t reach her.

  “It is the fever speaking,” Elbrion said. “Do what you must.”

  Celdorn took a deep breath and embraced Elena from behind, arms pinned to her sides. He stepped into the tub and sat, pulling the girl down with him. “Fill it to the top.” Celdorn’s breath was tight as the cold wrapped around his chest with a firm squeeze.

  “I’m with you, little one,” he said into Elena’s ear. “I won’t let you be harmed.” He chattered out the song he’d sung the first night Elena was in Kelach. The melody seemed to wind its way into her tormented soul, and her body relaxed into his chest, though it convulsed from the cold.

  “I love you,” he whispered through chattering teeth. “C-come back to us, little one.”

  ~

  Elena only had a moment for a quick gasp before Domar shoved her head under the filthy water once again. Her lungs burned from lack of air, and she was certain he planned to finish her off this time. His rage didn’t seem to be dissipating as it usually did.

  Everything shifted from gray to black, and she drifted, floating on a distant, sweet melody. She felt embraced, and strangely warm.

  This is your escape, Yaena. Take it.

  Elena stopped fighting and gave in to oblivion.

  ~

  “Her f-fever broke,” Braiden told the others after they returned to Celdorn’s chamber.

  Celdorn laid Elena on his bed. Dripping wet and shivering, she no longer struggled. Nor had she regained consciousness.

  Dalgo studied Elena, his brow furrowed. He grabbed Braiden’s arm and nodded, whispering something in his ear. Braiden’s eyes filled with tears as he stared at the girl’s emaciated body, where her soaked nightshirt clung tightly to her chilled flesh.

  “H-how did we m-miss this?”

  Dalgo shook his head. “I should have realized sooner. The signs were all there. I just attributed them to the trauma.” Dalgo turned to Celdorn. “I’m so sorry, my friend.”

  Celdorn watched the exchange and followed their gaze. His eyes swept over Elena, uncertain as to what they referred. Then he saw it. He raised a questioning brow to Dalgo. The healer nodded.

  Celdorn was struck silent, his voice strangled. Elbrion came alongside him and gripped his shoulder. “She has come this far. She is strong. Our daughter will make it through this as well.”

  Celdorn wiped his eyes, breathing a prayer that indeed she would.

  Chapter 20

  A short time later, Elena awakened from her tormented stupor. Relief swept through her when she found herself back in Celdorn’s room, far from the torture chamber, away from the internal rooms filled with shadows. She leapt from the bed and tumbled herself into her ada’s arms, overcome with joy.

  Then she sensed the somber mood in the room, and she stiffened. Glancing around, Elena noted that Sasha wasn’t on the bed and fear grabbed her heart.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Where’s Sasha?”

  Celdorn grimaced and slumped onto the edge of the bed, as if the energy had drained from his body. He patted the covers beside him and she sat next to him. The wound in her hip tugged at her attention, but she focused on Celdorn, dreading his answer. “She died. Remember, little one. She was hurt in the bailey.”

  “B-but I healed her ...”

  Celdorn rubbed his jaw, his reply slow in coming. “No, little one. You passed out.”

  “No. I healed her. She was running in Gia’s field before I was pulled away.”

  Her ada’s brow pulled into a frown. “She was on Elbrion’s table when last you saw her, little one. You wanted to heal her, but it was too late. Then you dropped into a stupor. You’ve been gone for several days.”

  A sob gripped Elena. “So it was only inside ...”

  Celdorn’s scowl deepened. Elbrion knelt by the side of the bed, patted Celdorn’s knee, and then laid his hand on her shoulder. His eyes immediately filled with sparkling tears. “Yes, it was only inside, Sheyshon. Like with your brother.”

  Elena reached behind her and poked at the bedding, as if Sasha might be there but just invisible. “No ...” The word whimpered out as her throat closed off. Elena curled onto her side and gathered the blanket in her arms. She buried her face in it, searching for Sasha’s scent. All she could smell was her own stink. Maybe if she went back inside, Sasha would be there. The image of Domar waiting there for her quickly drove that thought away. Would Gia be able to keep Sasha safe?

  “I’m sorry, little one.” Celdorn gently gathered her into his arms and cradled her so that he could see her face. “I miss her too. When you are stronger, we’ll take you to where we buried her. We put her near one of the rabbit warrens since she delighted in harassing them so much.” He gave a sad chuckle. Elena tried for a smile but couldn’t find one. Only tears. What would she do without Sasha.

  Guilt overwhelmed her. “It’s my fault. She died because of me.” Elena hugged herself, wishing she could embrace Sasha and beg her forgiveness. “I-I’m so sorry, Ada. First I took Bria from you and now Sasha ...” Heaving sobs devoured the rest of her words.

  “Not your fault, little one.” He held her in silence for a time, his tears dripping into her hair as hers bathed his chest. A sudden tremor shook his large frame, and his muscles tensed. “They’ll pay for this.” There was a growl in his words. “One day I’ll see to it that they pay for all they’ve stolen.”

  The anger that rumbled in her ada’s chest seeped into Elena and gave her an unexpected surge of strength. She found herself nodding. Some day she would find a way to make them suffer: the Alraphim, the eidolon, the ones who collaborated with her father, all of them.

  Celdorn’s body sagged, the energy suddenly gone again. His anger morphed back into grief. She felt it, deep and fathomless. Then, something else entered into the emotion, something odd and formless. Elena tipped her head, trying to grasp an elusive thread. Her gaze swept around the room, searching for a clue. Then it struck her: Mikaelin wasn’t there.

  Another sob shuddered in her chest. “Did ...did I only heal Mikaelin inside too? Is he ...gone?”

  “Oh no, Elena. You healed him. Mikaelin is well. Do not fear,” Celdorn assured her with a sincere, though saddened, smile. His big hand cupped her head and pulled her into his chest.

  Something in his grip chilled her bones. Foreboding climbed up her back in an icy crawl. She fought to suck in a breath. “What’s wrong? If not Mikaelin, what then?” Elena pushed Celdorn back so she could see his face.

  “All will be well, little one,” Celdorn soothed as he stroked her forehead. “You’ve been ill for several days with a fever brought on by the arrows’ poison. But you are strong; you are recovering.”

  “There’s something else. I can feel it. Something is troubling all of you.” Her eyes slowly swept the room. No one would meet her gaze.

  “We have time to talk about it later. You need to regain your strength.” Celdorn swallowed hard and tucked the blanket she clung to around her shivering body. The sense of some impending doom was stealing her body’s reserves.

  A thought occurred to her, but her throat was so tight she could barely speak the words. “Is...is my father alive?”

  “No, little one, it’s not that.” Celdorn continued to caress her brow with great gentleness as tears welled in his eyes.

  “But there’s something else, isn’t there? Something you don’t know how to tell me.”

  Celdorn wouldn’t meet her gaze. His lips trembled. He looked over her head to Elbrion. “I can’t ...” he whispered.

  Elena felt Elbrion’s warm hands grip her shoulders. He chanted softly before telling her outright. “You are with child, Elena.�
��

  “What?” Elena sat bolt upright and spun to stare at Elbrion. The room warped and twisted, and she clasped her hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting. White light exploded in her head, and she wrapped her arms around it to hold it together. She gasped in a breath and worked to stay in her body. All the while, she silently repeated Elbrion’s words, to cipher their meaning, as if they’d been spoken in a foreign tongue. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for something, though she didn’t know what.

  Sasha. She wanted Sasha. To bury her face in the dog’s fur. To feel her warmth, her solidness. Sasha would ground her, make the world safe again. But her friend was gone. How would Elena survive here without her?

  Time passed. Elena didn’t know how much or where she had gone, but when she returned to her body, she spread her trembling hands over her abdomen. The truth of that bulge nearly pushed her over the edge again. She grasped for sanity. Clung to it with all she had. “This is from the attack? This is Loqarad’s child?” Her gorge rose in her throat along with the words.

  “No, Sheya, it can’t be his.”

  Her mind whirled. The room spun with her thoughts. “Wh-what? Then whose?”

  “You must have already been with child when you came to us.”

  Elena covered her mouth. She wanted to scream but had no breath. She stared at Celdorn, then Elbrion, searching for some clue, more information to explain this. “From the Farak?” She retched, and in the blur, someone handed her a basin.

  Elbrion’s face came into focus. He kept his expression and tone calm, but the pain in his eyes spoke volumes. “Most likely before that. Dalgo says you appear to be more than four months pregnant.”

  “Before? But it was winter. I hadn’t been sent out for some time.” Understanding struck her like a blow from a cudgel. She stiffened and stared at Elbrion then Celdorn. “No ... no it can’t be.” She shook her head. “Oh, please tell me no.”

  No one responded.

  She rose and backed away from the bed. “This is my father’s child?” The floor wavered; the walls swayed; her internal world filled with screams, curses, emotions she couldn’t name. “This can’t be. It can’t be. You’re lying!” she yelled. “This is some sort of cruel trick. I can’t be carrying his child.”

  Celdorn moved toward her, but she shrieked at him, “No! No, don’t tell me all will be well.” She thrust her arms out, not allowing him to come closer. “Do not try to comfort me.”

  Celdorn stopped. “Elena, you are rightly upset by the news, but we can deal with this.”

  Rage consumed her. “Deal with it?” She turned and paced frenetically, a caged animal, unable to flee, but unwilling to succumb to its captors. A trickle of blood marked her steps; she felt its path from hip to floor, but she didn’t care.

  “It’s not bad enough I came to this place with the reputation of a whore. Nor that I was stripped of my independence and laid bare before all these men time and again.” She swept her arm toward the others. “Nor that I was publicly humiliated by my attacker announcing that I’m so used up I couldn’t satisfy your horse!” she shrieked. “No, that isn’t sufficient humiliation. Now the entire host of Kelach will believe that I have no morals, no scruples, that I’m so twisted I came in here and seduced all of you and now carry one of your children.”

  Celdorn started to object, but she cut him off. “And don’t tell me they won’t. You know as well as I, they have doubts about me.” Patting her belly, she added, “This will only confirm them!”

  She walked back and forth shaking her head. “I hoped that someday I would have a normal life. You all assured me that I could find joy in this world ...love, laughter. There’s no hope of that now. What man would take me like this?” She grabbed her belly again. “I carry a bastard child. And not just any bastard child, but that of my own—my own father.” She gagged on the words. “I carry the seed of Kharak himself.” She stood still, her breath coming in huffs, and her eyes unable to focus.

  “I want this out of me!” she wailed, pounding her fists on her abdomen.

  Celdorn darted forward and grabbed her hands. “Stop, Elena. The child isn’t evil.”

  She yanked her hands free. “How can it not be? It is spawned from a diabolical father and a depraved mother. It is wickedness incarnate.” She glared defiantly at Celdorn. “Any hope for a normal life is gone.”

  “That’s not true. We can still protect you from any judgment or scandal.” Elena scoffed. “We’ll take you to Queyon immediately. There we can manage this without bringing you shame.”

  “We can manage this? We? Are you going to carry the child, Celdorn? Are you going to be its father and mine? Sorry. Domar already beat you to that one.” Bitter tears burned in her eyes. “My life is over. I’ll be forced to raise a vile, bastard child, a constant reminder of my evil heritage, and I’ll do it alone, for none will have me. I’m a tainted woman. If it wasn’t apparent before, it certainly is now.”

  Celdorn started to speak, but Elena raised her hand and shook her head. His shoulders drooped, but he backed down.

  Elena stomped toward her room without another word. Her glance fell on the bare space where Sasha’s bed should have been. The ache in her chest nearly drove her to the floor. Anguish and despair overwhelmed all the anger. Tears burned as the image of Sasha loping toward her, tail wagging, tongue ready to bathe her cheeks, filled her vision—suddenly more real than anything else. She opened her arms to welcome Sasha, but when she pulled the dog into her embrace, only her own bones greeted her. Elena staggered and dropped to one knee as her chest ripped wide open. Footsteps approached behind her, and she waved Celdorn away. She didn’t want anyone’s comfort. She’d killed her best friend, and she deserved to suffer this pain. Alone.

  “Wait, Elena...” a voice said from behind her. It wasn’t Celdorn.

  She rose and turned to find Silvandir moving toward her, one hand held out in appeasement.

  “These are not the circumstances under which I desired to approach you, but I feel compelled to speak with you now before it’s too late, and you make decisions that can’t be reversed.”

  She stared at him blankly, wondering to what he referred. He looked awkward and nervous, not at all himself, but she was too despondent to help ease his distress.

  “Elena, it’s not true that there’s no one who would have you.” She started to argue with him, but he stepped closer and put his finger to her lips. His voice softened to a whisper, wrought with emotion. “I would willingly and joyfully receive you as my wife. I would proudly care for you and this child.”

  Elena lurched. That was not what she’d expected to hear. Didn’t Silvandir realize she was a plague, a destroyer? She needed to get away from him, from everyone. Elena opened her mouth to object, but he touched her lips again.

  “Lest you think this is an act of pity, which I know you are inclined to believe for I have come to know you well, I can tell you it has been in my heart since the first day I met you. Something about you has melted my resolve, causing me to willingly forsake a long-standing vow. When Celdorn left on his last journey, I requested his permission to ask your hand should he not return. I wouldn’t have spoken so rashly then, nor this day, if circumstances hadn’t thrust us forward so, but it is as it is.”

  Silvandir stopped, took a deep breath, and dropped to one knee. “Elena, I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my days with you. I want to protect and care for you and this child through whatever life may bring. I pledge my heart and my fidelity to you, if you will have me.”

  Elena gaped at him. A host of whirling emotions made her reel. She futilely tried to make sense of what was happening, find words to respond. Her eyes scanned the room, and she noticed Mikaelin for the first time. He leaned against the far wall, looking as if his world had just collapsed around him.

  Slowly her gaze turned back to Silvandir, whose face was filled with such compassion and earnest love. From somewhere deep inside, she found the strength to speak. “Silvandir, I l
ove you.” His trembling lips broke into a broad smile. “And because of that love, I cannot grant your request.” His expression crumbled, and it nearly stalled her words. But the truth had to be spoken. “You’re a good man, a noble man, worthy of the finest wife. I would never shame you in this way. To attach yourself to me would destroy your reputation and all that you’ve worked so hard to attain. I love you too much to bring that evil upon you.”

  With that she turned, consumed by abject misery, and walked into her room, closing the door behind her. Alone.

  ~

  Silvandir didn’t move. He stared at her door long after she departed, then lowered his head.

  Celdorn came behind him and gripped his shoulders. “Give her time,” he said. “I don’t believe you’ve heard her true heart. She has many difficult things to ponder. Don’t give up.”

  Silvandir rose and faced Celdorn. “My heart will wait for her until I am burned upon my pyre. I will break my vow for no other.”

  Celdorn felt Silvandir’s ache in his own chest as the young man collapsed into a chair by the hearth and stared vacantly into the flames. Mikaelin came to stand vigil over his friend, his hand on Silvandir’s shoulder.

  The rest of the room fell silent, the air heavy with desolation.

  ~

  Hours passed. Elena remained in her room. No one approached her door or attempted to prod her in any way. No movement could be heard within. Silvandir remained by the fire, joined by Celdorn and Mikaelin. Elbrion retired to his own room, overwhelmed by the intensity of emotion among the men.

  As midnight approached, the silence was broken by an abrupt cry from Elena’s room. Celdorn ran to her door, shoving it open. Elbrion entered simultaneously from the other side.

  Elena sat on her bed, staring at the far side of the room, where her dagger lay on the floor, her visage filled with awe. There was a growing bloodstain on her shirt.