by J D Abbas
“To assure that you remain safe.” Celdorn pulled a chair in front of Elena and sat facing her. “Little one, I want you to speak with Silvandir.”
She nodded; she’d expected this. The room swayed and warped.
Celdorn took her hand again, which made her squeeze Mikaelin’s. “It is important that you not shift. If you become afraid, tell us and we’ll stop.”
She laughed nervously. “If I become afraid? I’m way past afraid.”
“Then perhaps you can give us some sort of signal if you feel yourself shifting.
“I’ll try, though I can’t always tell when it’s going to happen.”
Celdorn stroked her hand. “Do you believe us when we say that it was not Silvandir who attacked you?”
“I don’t know what to believe.” She gazed at her ada, afraid to speak the truth but also afraid not to. “I don’t know why you would lie to me, unless perhaps to protect Silvandir. But I don’t think you would do that.” She searched Celdorn’s eyes for any indication she might be wrong.
“When I look around the room and see all of you here, I feel outnumbered, and it seems what I believe doesn’t really matter…” Her voice faded.
“Elena, that is not the case,” Celdorn assured her. “I can’t even imagine how frightening it must be for you to face Silvandir, and I know it’s nearly impossible for you to trust in the best of circumstances. If you don’t want to speak with him and would prefer he stay away from you, we’ll honor that.” He squeezed her hand, holding her gaze unwaveringly. She believed him.
“I’m confident, however, that this attack came from outside, and he is a victim as much as you are and is suffering this wound along with you. I know you have empathic abilities, and I trust if you speak with him, you will sense the truth. The rest of us”—Celdorn nodded toward the other men—“are here to help you feel secure enough to do so. But if it makes it more uncomfortable, then we will leave. It’s your decision.”
Elena hadn’t expected this. She knew Celdorn would require her to talk with Silvandir; however, she didn’t think she’d have a choice, an opportunity to refuse. She looked across the room at Silvandir, who hung his head, his expression so sad. How could she refuse? If he was truly innocent, he deserved the right to vindicate himself, but would she be able to tell truth from lie? The room wavered.
Her eyes shifted to her other ada. “Elbrion, would you please sing my fear away, so I can do this?”
Elbrion squatted down beside her. “I cannot make your fear leave, but I may be able to bring some calm and strengthen your courage.”
“I need that.”
Mikaelin patted her hand and let go. “I will wait over there, so you don’t feel quite so surrounded.”
Elena smiled at him and nodded. She had both her adai now; she could let him go. But as he walked away, she fought the urge to call him back. She hugged Sasha closer and swallowed the desperation.
Elbrion placed his hands on her head and chanted in his rich tenor voice. She closed her eyes and let the notes soothe her. Her breath slowed, and her heart stopped thundering. She looked up at her adai, so grateful for their love and their belief in her.
“Is it all right if Silvandir approaches?” Celdorn asked.
“Yes, I can do this,” she said, as much to convince herself as them.
“Do you want us here? Or would you prefer we wait by the others?”
“Over there. For now.”
Celdorn signaled for Silvandir to come as they moved away.
Elbrion grabbed Silvandir’s arm when they passed and whispered, “Speak only the truth to her. Any lie will open a door for further attack.”
Silvandir bit his lip and his head bobbed.
Elena was grateful for her ada’s warning; she wanted the truth.
Celdorn had left a chair a few feet in front of Elena, but Silvandir moved it aside and sat on the floor instead. Sasha’s ears perked up, but she stayed snuggled in Elena’s arms.
Elena stared at the fire, afraid to look at Silvandir, scared of what she would see in his eyes. But, after taking another deep breath, she forced herself to do so. When their eyes met, she gasped.
“What is it, Elena? Do you want me to move back?”
“No,” she whispered. “I was just startled by what I saw in your eyes.”
“What did you see?”
“Pain.” She took a shuddering breath. “Like what I’m feeling. Deep, aching, horrific pain. I can see it, feel it inside you. Why is it there?”
Tears immediately filled Silvandir’s eyes. “Because I—” His voice broke. He swallowed hard before he continued. “I can’t bear that it’s my image you saw, and most likely continue to see, deceiving you and doing those vile things to your body. It breaks… my heart.” He laid his big hand on his chest as if trying to hold it together. “And I don’t know how to make it right, except to tell you that I did not, I could not, I would not do that to you—not to you, Elena.” He reached out his other hand toward her but stopped short, letting it hang there for a moment before dropping it to his side.
Elena closed her eyes. “I’m so confused,” she whimpered, letting her tears flow. She didn’t care anymore. “The things he said sounded so much like you. He was kind, gentle. I mean apart from forcing me to—” She stopped, unable to say it. “I think if I hadn’t thought it was you, I would have responded differently. I probably would have gone away immediately. But you are my friend; I thought I could reason with you. I didn’t want to believe you would hurt me. And that’s what made it so confusing; that it was you—or so I thought.”
His silver-flecked eyes flashed with torment. “Will you tell me what he said? Do I have the right to ask that?”
Her cheeks burned as shame washed over her.
“I felt that,” Silvandir said. “You don’t deserve to bear this shame. It’s not yours. This was done to you. This was done to us,” he added. “I feel violated by this as well. He exposed my body to you, used my voice, held you with my arms.” He shuddered. “Please tell me what was spoken.”
A tear slid down his cheek, and she fought the urge to wipe it away. Sasha pulled free of Elena’s grasp and licked his cheek then lay down between them, eyes flicking from one to the other, ears perked up.
“He said… that my body had been crying out to him since the first day we met, and he couldn’t resist me any longer.”
Silvandir closed his eyes, and she faltered.
“It’s all right, Elena, continue.” He opened his eyes and nodded encouragingly.
“He said he felt a fire smoldering between us every time he was near me, surprised that I didn’t acknowledge it. He said I was tempting and enticing him.” She put her face in her hands, unable to continue as the memory replayed in her head.
“What is it?”
“You—he said he loved me…” She held herself and rocked back and forth. “And that… and that it wasn’t wrong because of that. He said he wanted to help heal the wounds inflicted by others who hadn’t loved me and help me find—” She couldn’t say it.
“Find what?” he urged.
“Pleasure.” Her body folded in on itself as she spoke. Silvandir’s face flushed, and his jaw tensed, making her want to cower all the more. “But it was no different than any of the other times, only pain and humiliation… nothing more.” Elena lifted her chin and gazed at him steadily, wanting to convince this Silvandir that he had been wrong.
He groaned. “Oh, Elena, I can certainly see why you’re confused. That imposter said things that you’ve probably longed to hear, but then he took from you greedily, just like all the others. He sounded like he was treating you as a treasure, as someone he loved and valued, but then his behavior said the opposite. He betrayed you in the worst way.” Tears brimmed in Silvandir’s eyes again.
“I believed his words—or most of them. Not what he said about pleasure, I don’t think that is possible.” She glanced nervously toward the others, not wanting them to hear this intimate confession.
“But his words felt true. I believed he meant them.” She focused on the furrows she’d made in Sasha’s fur. “I can’t believe I was fool enough to believe any of it.”
Silvandir let out a breath like someone had punched him. When she looked up his lips moved but nothing came out. He ran his hands through his usually meticulous hair and scrubbed at his perfectly trimmed beard. “No… No, Elena, it wasn’t foolish.” He shifted his weight before finally meeting her gaze. “I’m going to take a huge risk here, and I hope I don’t live to regret it.”
Elena had been leaning toward him, but when he said that, she pulled back. Sasha lifted her head, alert now.
“No, I’m not going to touch you,” he assured her, holding his hands up and scooting away. “We have told you repeatedly that we deal with the truth here in Kelach, and usually it has been you that is forced to disclose some secret.” He gave a timid half-smile. “This time it is required of me.”
Silvandir inhaled deeply and blew out a slow breath. “The things your attacker spoke to you felt true because some of them are true—for me, and I could easily have said them.” He held her gaze but looked terrified. “I-I do care about you. You know that, I think. And I have been… attracted to you.”
He stopped when Elena grabbed her knees and hugged them. It was my fault. Somehow I did tempt him. She felt ill.
“Please understand, Elena. I’m not blaming you in any way for this. I haven’t felt you seducing or enticing me. You’ve done nothing inappropriate or wrong.”
Her chest tightened. Had he heard her thoughts?
“I haven’t felt a fire smoldering between us or anything physical like that—not that you aren’t beautiful…” He trailed off and his dark brows pulled down, searching her face for some cue or some hidden truth, like he’d lost his way.
“Let me try a different tack.” His quivering lips curled into a nervous smile. “I like the person you are. I admire your gentleness, your kindness, your sense of humor. You are gracious and sweet and giving. You are feisty and stubborn as well. I like that about you. And I would be lying if I said that I haven’t thought about us being together someday. I have. Not sexually,” he was quick to add. “I realize that part of your life has been so twisted and distorted that it will always remain a difficult area. I just meant a future… together, though I had no reason to believe you felt as I did or would choose someone like me. I-I think I should stop. I see you are horrified by my confession.” Tears washed over the silver flecks in his eyes, making them sparkle.
“I’m not horrified,” Elena whispered. “I’m just more confused. What’s wrong with me?”
His brow furrowed. “There’s nothing wrong with you. What makes you ask that?”
“If you felt those things, why didn’t you speak them? Well, you did, but it wasn’t you, and it was just so you could… use me—he could, I mean.”
“I didn’t tell you because I was being cautious. I know how you have been hurt and misused by men, and I didn’t want you to think I was just one more who wished to take advantage of you. I knew eventually I would tell you, when you felt safe with me, when I knew I had earned your trust.”
He shifted to a squat, with one knee up like he was preparing to flee. Sasha sat up, eying the two of them as if uncertain what was happening. “These are certainly not the circumstances under which I had intended to express them.” He glanced awkwardly toward the others. “My greatest fear is that since this man betrayed you using my form and has planted seeds of doubt in your mind, you’ll never be able to trust me again. It grieves my heart more than I can tell you.” Silvandir pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, his raspy voice barely audible. Sasha nudged his arm before licking his cheek.
Elena scrutinized Silvandir, weighing his words. Then, as if from a distance, she watched herself rise from the couch and kneel in front of him. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as she closed her eyes and placed her palm against his heart. His chest heaved beneath her touch. It felt like fire passed from her hand into him. Silvandir’s hands covered hers and pressed it firmly into his chest, pulling in a deep breath.
Sasha barked just as something burst against Elena’s hand with such force, it thrust her backward into the couch. When her body hit, the impact drove the couch across the floor until it slammed into Elbrion’s bed, jarring her body and throwing her to the ground, unconscious.
~
Silvandir sprang to his feet, followed by Sasha. “Elena!” He fell to his knees next to her crumpled body and cautiously lifted her into his arms, checking her head for injury, as Sasha whined and bathed her forehead. Silvandir found no cuts or bumps, but the girl didn’t respond. “Elena, wake up.” He gave her a gentle shake.
When Silvandir saw Celdorn and Elbrion approaching, he set Elena on the ground.
“It’s all right,” Celdorn assured him, laying his hand on Silvandir’s shoulder as they knelt beside him, their faces wrought with concern.
“Elena?” Silvandir stroked her face. She hung limply in his arms; other than her chest rising and falling, she looked lifeless. Sasha nudged her hands and whimpered. His heart twisted with fear. Please, don’t take her. Not now, not like this. I need time to make this right, he prayed.
The thud of heavy objects dropping onto the balcony drew Silvandir’s attention to the terrace. Low shadows slid past the windows. The sun, just setting behind the mountains, shed enough light to expose the silhouettes of several large animals prowling outside the doors.
Sasha jumped to her feet, barking, hackles up.
“Celdorn!” A breathless guard burst in from the corridor. “The lions are in your courtyard.”
Chapter 45
Sasha’s frantic barks rang through Elbrion’s chamber as a lioness stood on its hind legs and pressed its body against the balcony door. A chill ran through Elbrion, and pain seared his chest as he remembered the claws that had rent his flesh. The lioness was joined by several more cats leaning on the two window-covered doors. The creatures pulled to the side as another lioness lunged headfirst at the windows and burst through them, sending shattered glass flying. The cat rolled but quickly recovered its footing.
Mikaelin ran toward the antechamber door calling, “I’ll get our swords.”
“Do not leave,” Yaelmargon said. “The power of the blade will do no good here. We must entrust ourselves to the Jhadhela.”
Silvandir lifted Elena and carried her away from the terrace door as one lioness after another entered through the broken window, six in all. Sasha positioned herself in front of them, snarling, ears laid back, ready to fight.
“Elbrion, wake the girl,” Yaelmargon ordered.
Elbrion followed Silvandir, singing over Elena as they moved. He laid his hands on her head but found only a gray haze in her mind.
When the black lioness finally entered through the broken doorway, a bone-chilling, ebony mist accompanied it and quickly filled the room. The cat crept toward Elena, not intimidated by the men in the least, but hesitating as it neared Sasha, although it was twice the dog’s size.
“Sasha, come,” Celdorn called. The dog inched backward, never taking her eyes from the cat until she was at Celdorn’s side.
Silvandir, still holding Elena in his arms, pulled his dagger from its sheath and held it in front of her body. As he backed toward the antechamber door, the other men formed a barrier in front of them.
“She is mine,” the lioness said in a raspy growl of a voice. “Give her to me.”
Yaelmargon stepped in front of the black feline. “She is her own.”
A gruesome laugh burst forth from the lioness, engulfing the room in an oppressive darkness wrought with images of death and defilement. “You dare to oppose me, Lore Master?” she growled.
“I dare.” Light pulsated outward from him, pushing back the shadows, foot by foot. The lioness stepped back repeatedly, snarling each time.
One of the smaller cats lunged at Yaelmargon. He held up his fist, arm bent, and the cat dropped to
the ground before it made contact. It picked itself up and slunk away.
“A fool’s display,” the black one hissed. With one vicious glance, the lioness who had failed in its attack collapsed onto the ground. The men gawked at the unmoving animal.
All the while, Elbrion persisted in trying to rouse Elena. “Come back to us, Sheya.” He traced his thumb along her cheek, struggling with his own doubts. She seemed far too fragile for this task. In spite of her great gifts, he feared this battle would destroy her. Anakh was far too powerful and adept in the use of the Zhekhum.
No, Elena can do this. I believe in her, he argued with himself. He had seen the untapped strength within her and experienced firsthand her stubborn, tenacious spirit. He had to believe Qho’el would empower her as the challenges progressed or escalated, just as he had through the first seventeen years of her life.
When she did not wake, Silvandir looked at Elbrion with desperation. “Please, Elena. Wake up.” He shook her again. “I have you. Don’t be afraid.”
Elena’s body twitched, and her eyes stuttered open. The lionesses were now in a wide semicircle with the men and Sasha standing between the felines and her.
Elena squinted up at Silvandir as if trying to bring his face into focus. “What’s happening?” She followed his gaze, which was locked on the cats. “Elbrion?” Her voice squeaked as she blanched.
“Yes, they are the same ones, Sheya.”
“Only you cannot push us out of your mind this time, my precious wench.” The black lioness imitated the endearing tone Elbrion used with Elena precisely.
“Silvandir, take her into my room, and tell what men are there to join us,” Celdorn ordered.
Silvandir backed toward the antechamber door with the others shielding him.
The black lioness moved toward the line of men, transforming with each step into a diffuse, enigmatic form that looked like a hole ripped in the air through which no light could pass, much the same as she had appeared the first time they encountered her at the dreadful training encampment.
