Page 39 of A Broken Ember

I felt my father kneel at my feet and take my hands in his. I opened my eyes, finding them heavy with tears. One of them shed, falling onto my chin. “Why are you helping me?” I asked, my voice cracking on the words. He gave me a gentle smile and squeezed a cloth of its excess liquid before using it to cleanse my legs and arms.

“You’ve shown De Vita a great mercy, Claeg,” he answered, as he finished up flushing the dirt from the wounds. I scoffed. “You have,” he insisted. “The Ruptor I knew would not have let Anastasius live in his cursed state.” He dipped his fingers into a bowl, coating them in the thick salve. “The Ruptor I knew would have completed all of their Circles.” He indicated all the draconis in the mesa as he finished by tending to the brand from the poker in my side. “You may not see it, but you’ve changed, son.” I balked at him, tempted to correct him. To tell him that no, I hadn’t changed and the De Vita would still meet that fate, but I just didn’t.

Moments later, he left me feeling confused and conflicted.

Many days later, I rolled in the bed, flipping onto my stomach, to find Stas still missing. Ercan had been my only company. He ensured I was fed and my wounds tended to. We hadn’t talked much since that first night though. I yawned. My eyes closed, relaxing as the gentle morning sun bathed me with its warmth. That was one thing I appreciated about De Vita territory: it was never cold. The sun was always kind here. Moments later, the smell of honey and bacon wafted in, making me groan in appreciation. I looked up, startling—Anastasius smiled at me from the doorway.

I sat up promptly, watching as the prince placed a tray of delightful treats down on the bedside table. He wore a dark green robe, bound at the waist with a golden belt along with jewelry around his neck—which, ironically, were gold circles. The clothing looked out of place on the prince, who preferred light tunics over grand, pompous robes. “You came back,” I commented with a hint of accusation. I desperately wanted to ask why did you leave me? The allegation was clear and the unspoken words: you left me. Instead, I contented myself with carefully studying him. His shoulders slumped, and dark circles ringed his eyes. His lips were raw and bloody. He sighed, turning towards me with a pained expression.

He gestured to the food. “Eat, Eleos.” The platter was filled with poached eggs, sourdough bread, a pile of fried potatoes, fresh juice, fruits that I didn’t recognize, and my favorite, burnt bacon. None of it appealed to me as I stared at the man who had all but abandoned me the last few days. I raised an eyebrow at him and he let out a long sigh.

“After what happened with the boy… Eleos, I killed him. Don’t you understand? I didn’t do it for him. He didn’t ask me to complete his Circle. I killed him because I was selfish.”

“So you left,” I retorted, making him cringe. If I weren’t so angry and confused, perhaps I would be more sensitive. “Why?”

“I was afraid.” His tongue flicked along his lip as if he was tempted to gnaw on it and his eyes were raw and vulnerable with emotion.

“Then why did you come back?” I whispered. Did he hope I would absolve him of his guilt? Or did he want my anger? I stayed silent, letting him explain.

“Today is the Day of Breath,” he answered as if that explained everything. Something told me it did, so I leaned in, picking at the bacon. He shrugged, a cloud passing over his face. I took a swig of orange juice as he pulled up a chair and sat across from me. It was just another thing that shouldn’t be possible in this wasteland, but was here. Real.

“Today, many years ago, the gods blessed us with their breath, their De Vita. We thank them for their sacrifice by celebrating every new sun turn.” His voice had that drawn-out cadence to it, almost hesitant. What he said wasn’t that surprising: the Circulus had special days we celebrated, too.

“What do you do?” I asked as Anastasius plucked up a piece of toast and smashed an egg on it. He looked about as eager to eat as I was, but I forced myself to eat some more bacon.

“Dancing, singing, flying, and lots of sex.” He bit his lip, his cheeks flushing. I smirked, giving him a suggestive look.

“Sounds like a good time,” I replied, keeping my eyes on him as he squirmed under my gaze. I loved making him flush.

“I wouldn’t fully know . . . I’ve never been allowed to fully participate. I have to wait until after I have a Chosen.” I saw a flash of pain cross his face before it was replaced by determined indifference. My eyebrows raised as I took a sip of juice to wash down the greasy flavor of the meat.

“Are you telling me you’ve never . . . indulged in pleasure?” I couldn’t deny that the thought excited me. My cock stirred at the thought of bedding the virgin De Vita prince. He shrugged and shook his head. I silently ate my bacon, waiting for him to speak.

“Not really. I mean, I’ve explored myself, and I’ve obviously kissed you…” The admission should have sent a thrill to my cock, but something wasn’t right. The way he was looking at me with guilt instead of lust was . . . concerning. I pushed the sentiment down, dismissing it as a nervous reaction.

“Oh, my Prince, when I am your Chosen, I am going to show you a whole new world,” I purred, reaching across the small table to stroke his hand. Anastasius jerked back at my touch and then winced. I frowned at him but didn’t push him on it. He wasn’t ready, and I could respect that. When we coupled, it would be because he wanted to. Because he couldn’t keep to himself. Instead, I withdrew my hand, offering a piece of myself. “The Circulus has a day like that, too. When it is time for a new Janardan to rule, we have days of celebration for the completion of the old Janardan’s Circle. Then when they are gone, we celebrate the new Janardan’s rule.” I retracted my hand and finished off the juice.

“And what do you do to celebrate?”

“Other than fuck?” The prince’s eyes flared, and I smelled lust blossom from him. He bit his lip and nodded. “We fight. We eat. We tell stories of great Circles.”

“It sounds marvelous.”

“I imagine it is. I’ve never participated. My grandmother has been Janardan my entire life. But when Clotho becomes Janardan, I—” I cut off, realizing my mistake a moment too late. I swallowed. “It would have been a fun time, but my life is here now.” I pushed my tongue into my cheek, hoping he hadn’t caught my slip up, but also wishing he would. My purpose was my chains. It would be so easy to tell him the truth: I was sent here for information, to find your weakness, to destroy you. The admission would set me free, but would I become a prisoner in another way? Thankfully, his face was solemn, his eyes distant moons.

“Do you miss them?” The question made me stiffen. How much could I tell him? I winced at the question and what it implied. How much could I tell him and still remain a dutiful puppet? I held the key to my freedom, but I clutched it nervously. Fear held me in its clutches, preventing me from taking that step outside of my chains. The Ruptor. My purpose. My clan. They were all I knew. Stepping outside of them would be . . . exhilarating. Terrifying.

I looked away. The truth was I did miss my family, but not in the way I had expected. I missed the certainty of knowing who I was. The security of being the Ruptor gave me the excuse to distance myself from my actions. I thought with all the weakness surrounding me I would miss the full spectrum of my Circle, but that wasn’t the case. I sighed. I couldn’t tell the prince my true feelings, though, because lingering beneath that was a truth I wasn’t ready to face. That I wasn’t the same man as I was when I left the Circulus. I wasn’t sure I wanted to return to the way things were. I blinked, stunned at the thought. Anastasius looked at me expectantly, still waiting for my reply..

“My sister loved to fly and race me in the sky. We played a game once. Clotho and I flew as high as we could, until the moon was nearly within our grasp. She passed out before we got there. I have never felt more terrified than when she was in freefall. I didn’t want her Circle to end because of my naïveté. She wasn’t weak; I had made a mistake…” Why was I admitting this?

“What happened?” Anastasius whispered; at some point he had gripped my hand, and he squeezed it gently now. The food was pushed aside, forgotten.

“I . . . froze. She woke up and saved herself. I’ve been the Ruptor all my life, but I’ve never told her . . . about the fear I experienced as she fell. The utter terror of losing her was paralyzing. To this day, I don’t know what I would have done if given another second. She thinks I would have let her die, and she praised me for it.” Guilt thrashed around my chest, tugging at my gut. I pulled my hand back from his, clenching it into a fist. This had happened so long ago. It didn’t matter anymore. I stood up, leaving the partially eaten feast.

“Eleos—”

“No, that’s enough,” I interrupted him. Rolling my shoulders, I donned my armor, plastering on a seductive grin. He held my eye a moment before nodding, thankfully letting the subject drop. “Today is a day to celebrate, not mourn past mistakes.” The subject change displeased him; that much was evident in his darkened eyes. “You promised to teach me to live.” I opened my arms. “I’m listening.”

---