Page 57 of Shadows in Bloom

“I imagined this happening differently.” Alandris grinned, and I would’ve smacked him if I were sure he wasn’t bleeding out. “Oh, don’t give me that look. If I’ve lost my ability to jest, then that is when you will know I am standing at death’s door.”

He obliged my request, still smiling from ear to ear as he tossed his shirt to the ground. He looked down at the gash just below his ribs and shrugged. “See? Not so bad. He missed the vitalbits.”

I would’ve liked to have had a moment to admire him, all the smooth skin and beautiful, lean muscle I’d never glanced before. And I will admit that I took the briefest moment to do so. Very brief. Because, despite his declaration, his wound was, in fact, so bad. Bad enough that I would need to clean and stitch it before we could continue.

“You’re lucky I have a medical kit with me.” Since experiencing Zorinna’s major wound, I’d taken to keeping it on my person at all times. “You need stitches or this will get worse.”

“Must we resort to needles?” He leaned away from me.

I let my mouth hang open in wonder. “This? This is what you are afraid of?”

He looked away, not in embarrassment, but nervousness. “I won’t watch, so distract me, will you? Talk with me. Tell me the things you wanted to when we didn’t have the opportunity to speak in private.”

So, I did. I cleaned the wound and stitched him back together while I shared with him the deepest parts of my soul. He was the one sitting there half undressed, but I felt more naked, raw, and exposed, confiding in him of the past I’d discovered, than he could ever be.

I told him of the being living inside of me. I told him how it cursed my village, my people, myself. How I would never be able to die. Not really. I told him of Lyssa. I told him how she’d planned to help me escape to a place called Azora. How I’d murdered her in a fit of my own rage when I’d learned she’d been lying to me my entire life. That life. I told him everything Iknew, even the parts I didn’t want to remember, bracing myself for his revulsion, his disappointment, his utter loathing… but it never came.

I secured the stitch, organized my supplies, and spoke the one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about. “What if I am the villain in all of this? The monster they claim me to be? We hunt and kill beasts we deem capable of destruction and evil. We exterminated dragons from this world because we feared how powerful they could become. We murder creatures in the woods that pose a threat to our nearby towns. What makes me any different? I’m another monster that can’t be controlled for the hero to slay for the betterment of the majority.”

Alandris took a deep breath and looked at me for the first time since I’d started his stitching. “Do you truly believe you became a monster the moment you received that God’s magic? Or did they make you one when the people you considered your family trapped you in a cage? When the people who feared the thing inside of you hunted you down?” He shook his head, anger etching his features. “No. Those are the monsters. The people who manipulated a child, helped her grow into the perfect puppet, witnessed her murder, only to then decide to repeat the process over and over again with no regards to what that would do to her mind. Her heart. There is no downplaying what they did to you—it was torture. They deserve a special hell I can only hope I’ll have the pleasure of delivering them to.”

“Alandris…” I was at a loss for words. I’d never once had someone defend me so vehemently.

Hecontinued, “What you did to Lyssa was a mercy. If we find Kallistra, I will take my time with her death. I will savor it. So, if you are the villain, then I am so much worse.”

“So, you think me innocent, then? I killed people. I-I wanted to. I felt they deserved it. I became so furious that I completely lost control and my only option was to erupt. I wanted revenge, and I took it. How is that innocence?”

He smirked. “I can think of no better term.”

I scoffed. How ridiculous. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Not everything is so black and white—good and evil, guilty or innocent. Most people, I believe, fall somewhere comfortably in the middle. Though, I think you are more inherently good than you give yourself credit for.” He tilted his head to the side. “Would you like an example? I can think of several, but there is one such case that I’m sure will humor you.”

No. I didn’t want an example. It sounded like walking into a trap, but I nodded my head in agreement, regardless.

“Let’s take our dear friend Zorinna. You see, you are impossibly kindhearted and gentle, to a fault, really… only you would openly encourage someone to confess to your own lover.”

“W-what? Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden?” I flushed bright red.

Alandris suppressed a laugh. “It’s an example.”

“And what would you have done? If someone wanted to confess their love to me?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, frustrated with the absurdity of this.

“Oh, I would have set them on fire.”

“Alandris!” I brought a hand to my forehead, rubbing away my irritation as if it were a tangible thing. “You’re teasing me again. That’s what this is. I didn’t know what to say… I obviously wasn’t going to maim your best friend. That doesn’t make me a good person.”

He raised his brows, a mischievous grin on his lips. “No. Not teasing, though I did hope to make you smile in light of all you’ve told me. Do you want to know how I’d do it? I suppose it would depend on the circumstances, but I like to consider myself a creative male.”

“You would not kill someone for simply falling in love with me.”

He raised my face with a finger under my chin, his eyes devoid of any trace of humor. “You might be surprised at the number of things I would do for you.”

My breath caught in my throat. The speed at which he was able to transition from playful to something deadly serious was always jarring. I’d always conceived it to be another joke of his, the juxtaposition of it all, but I was beginning to doubt it was for a laugh. He had, after all, killed for me, just as I had done for him. He had repeatedly emphasized that I had the freedom to ask anything of him and he would remain by my side. As my sword, my shield, my fire.

That is who Alandris was, what he was, at the very center of his being—fire. He embodied heat, volatility, and intensity in every way. I was no more than a moth drawn to his flame. I’d never stood a chance against him. I’d been captivated fromthe moment I’d first laid my eyes on him, and now, I couldn’t imagine my world without his warmth. I trusted him fully; I needed him wholly, and I would do whatever it took to ensure we could remain by each other’s sides.

“I want to find a way to separate my soul from this thing’s,” I said. “I do not wish to be a vessel in this life or ever again. I want to be Nairu.”

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