Page 24 of A Broken Ember

I didn’t know how to respond. The man was hurting himself. Weakening himself, I corrected. I didn’t understand his last comment, but before I could question him, the prince spoke. “You are wrong. I don’t know how you got your scars,” Anastasius said, and I could feel the question there: why? Why are your Circles broken? I swallowed. I had avoided this question already, but I could tell the prince wasn’t satisfied with my answer.

“You wouldn’t look at me the same if I told you,” I answered with as much honesty as I could. Anastasius hummed.

“What does it mean to be a Ruptor?” he asked after a moment of silence, startling me. I tried to keep the surprise off my face, but how could I when he was asking the questions that could reveal my purpose? Could he see the chains that bound me? He could free you: the thought barreled into me, and I nearly winced, barely holding it together. If the prince pressed me much harder the truth would spill from me. I sent a prayer to the gods for help, but what did I want? After so long with these chains around my hands, I didn’t know how I would function without them. Who was I without a master pulling the strings? I gulped, closing my eyes. This was meant to be a conversation to learn about his weaknesses, yet it had flipped and disarmed me.

A hand grasped mine, giving it a little squeeze. I had to give him something. Remaining silent would be suspicious. For the moment, I had his grace on my side as he waited for me to come to terms with myself, but that moment wouldn’t last forever. I took a breath and looked at Anastasius. He was waiting patiently for a response.

“The Ruptor drives me to fulfill its needs, to listen to its commands,” I answered, struggling to find the words to explain it. The Ruptor defined me. I settled on “It is my purpose.”

Anastasius cocked an eyebrow. “Your purpose?” he prompted, and I felt the pull to answer him honestly like a tree being pulled out from the roots.

I walked a fine line with these questions, but still the answer tumbled out of me as Anastasius plucked at my roots. “Find and Prune weaknesses—to protect the clan.”

“And what does it tell you now?”

To destroy. But what? I wasn’t sure. I stiffened, the answer caught in my throat.

“Eleos?” The name made me wince, my heart hurting with the reminder of who I wasn’t.

“I don’t know,” I lied, shame flushing through my cheeks. The lie pulled my chains tighter, reminding me that I wasn’t my own master. I turned away from the prince, unable to look him in the eye. I had never felt ashamed for the Ruptor, but now I did, and it confused me.

“I have to check on the patients in the infirmary, to make sure Thyia is managing,” Anastasius mumbled a few days later as we ate breakfast. I nodded, taking a bite of toast and washing it down with some impossibly fresh orange juice. How had they obtained something exclusive to the shores of the Circulus? De Vita had luxuries I hadn’t imagined possible. Water chilled enough to cut, flowers out of season, immaculately crafted and always polished weaponry, scented bed linens, and surfaces so fine they reflected their surroundings better than the clearest water. All were a source of strength I had yet to identify.

We fell into a comfortable routine. I spent the days accompanying him everywhere, more often than not exploring the oasis. With a chaperone, of course. When we returned, he would dress my palms and neck, but they no longer required wrapping. Anastasius folded his hands on the table and an air of silence fell between us. I glanced up at him with a cocked eyebrow, silently inviting him to speak. The Ruptor stirred, sensing weakness.

“Will you be okay here by yourself?”

His question caught me off-guard. I realized it then—we were alone. Why? I frowned at the oddity and blinked at the prince. He didn’t want me to accompany him. My pulse skittered at the thought of him hiding something from me. It was a hypocritical standard considering everything I was hiding from him, but I refused to show that his lack of trust in me hurt. I swallowed the last of the juice and smirked.

“Worried about me misbehaving?” I teased suggestively.

His eyes flared, a breath catching in his throat as if he were contemplating all the ways we could fool around together. His throat bobbed, and my lips twitched.

I winked, reveling in the way he flushed a deep crimson. Emboldened by his reaction, I stood up from the table with its platters of delicacies and made my way to him. His eyes tracked my every movement, eating them up as he gnawed on his raw lip. When I placed my hands on his shoulders, he sucked in a breath. I lowered my mouth to his ear. “Or perhaps you would want to join me?” I could almost taste him with his proximity. He turned to face me, lust evident in his gray eyes, satisfying the Ruptor.

Our bodies nearly shared a heaving breath. “Soon, Selected. Soon.”

My heart plummeted. The repeated rejection stung.

He raised a palm to briefly cup my neck before he spun on his heels and darted out of the room. I waited a moment to ensure he was gone before I pursued him at a distance.

Even though I had never been to the infirmary, I knew I could find the way. The Ruptor sensed the pit of weakness encasing the sick and injured De Vita. I followed my instincts through the hallways, careful to listen for Anastasius so we didn’t cross paths. The scent of the sickly grew stronger the farther I went. The smell led me to a door that oozed illness. I crinkled my nose and listened carefully. Anastasius was quietly talking with someone. “Where is he?” I could sense the tension even through the door.

“Your father sent him to the Neutral Strip,” a woman replied. I stilled, recognizing the voice. The older woman who had given me my only reprieve in the days of torturous thirst.

Anastasius' response was explosive. “He was still healing!”

I frowned, intrigued by his outburst. Who was he protecting? Who were they after in the Strip? I couldn’t help but inch the door open a crack. Light hit my eyes, and I blinked against it, adjusting to the surprising brightness.

“He insisted he was fine,” said an older woman in the center of the room. His back was to me, but even from here I could see the tension bunched in his shoulders. Between us stood rows of beds, each with a weak draconis in it. I growled. There was nowhere to hide, no walls separating the ill or dark corners to lurk in, but the Ruptor didn’t want to hide here among the weak. I could see the reason Anastasius wanted me to be sequestered away from them . . . he knew my impulses resided just beneath the surface, begging for indulgence. Did he fear the Ruptor would feast on the weakness here?

I watched as the prince did his rounds, checking on the patients. The pregnant draconis with a missing arm had come, clearly worried about her unborn babe. The woman examined her slit, pressed her palms along the swollen belly, and kneaded her lower back before dismissing her. Anastasius had comforted her briefly before she took off to find her partner.

It was intriguing watching the prince work, flitting about from bed to bed, offering his assistance however they needed—a shoulder to cry or lean on, a hand to drink or eat from. He wafted around on an air of confidence, oblivious to my observance. It was beautiful, really, the tenderness with which he cared for the weak. This appreciation for such care felt foreign, but I didn't hate myself for it. It was surprisingly . . . right. I swallowed and took a step into the room, drawing the woman’s attention. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, making Anastasius follow her gaze.

“Eleos.” He beckoned me forward. I took a hesitant step forward. His expression was warm as he beamed. “We are expecting a fledgling.”

“That's wonderful.” I smiled. It wasn't a lie. A young woman was to give birth, which was cause for celebration even though the Ruptor recoiled at the weak breeding. I understood the sentiment. In the Circulus, the birth of a fledgling was always exciting. The strong cry of a babe was treasured as a sign of our clan’s renewed strength. As Ruptor, I was always expected to be in the birthing room to examine the babe for weakness. My presence was meant to comfort the parents, but it wasn’t until I assured them their young had the heart of a warrior that they breathed a sigh of relief. There had been few babes unworthy of starting a Circle, but whenever that occurred, it was devastating for everyone. The entire clan mourned the loss of the babe before I put it to rest, its Circle completed before it even began. Nobody had ever fought the tradition, but today, something in the Ruptor… shifted.

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