Page 15 of Omission

I’ve slept in nothing. Just four walls and a bed whenever a lesson needs to be taught.

“It could be worse,” I mutter low, letting out a quiet huff while the open bathroom door pulls my attention once again. With each step closer, I realize that what I thought to be a turned-on lamp illuminating the space is a glowing orb. It’s floating with just a few inches of space between it and the flat ceiling, casting a bit of warmth to the otherwise sterile space.

The en-suite is larger than I first thought, too.

The pristine white stone is everywhere; it’s the sole source material in every feature. The tub, sink and countertop, cabinets…even the bench inside of a large, double-feature shower. Yet that’s not what’s pulling me in deeper. That glow is highlighting a section of wall beside the tub that had I not looked hard enough, I’d have missed the near seamless door in the same material as the rest of the room.

And the closer I walk toward the hidden door, the stronger his stench becomes. Light; a gentle sweep of something foul until I gag and stagger. It slams into me, causing my entire body to lose its equilibrium and grip the closest object to me, which is a half wall separating the toilet from the rest of the room.

There’s a small yelp from me as the cold from the stone seeps in, damaging the warmth I’ve pulled from my core, but that takes a back seat when my name is called a few seconds later and heavy footsteps draw nearer. Bulky and ungraceful, the intruder meets me at the bathroom’s entrance, and I fight the urge to retch as Brice smiles down at me.

He’s been in here before.

He’s who uses that secret doorway.

“Nice to see you awake, ma princesse.” I want to respond, but all I can taste in the air is that awful sewage aroma this male fae carries with him. Yet it’s never been this bad. This acrid. His scent has never been a pleasant one for me—no scent match between us—but this is different. Almost as if he’s decomposing before my eyes, and yet as I use a tiny sliver of my powers, my tethers find nothing physically wrong with him to explain the dramatic change.

My father’s trusted general and personal guard at times is healthy, all things considered.

It takes a moment and a few attempts at clearing my throat to dislodge his natural perfume for me to try to answer. “I-I’m…what…?” Shaking my head, I exhale roughly and run a hand down my face. “Where are we, Brice?”

“In Canada.” Two words, and they caused everything around me to plummet, and that ice-cold dread I’d felt after waking nearly swallows me whole. I’m drowning. The breath inside my chest is a painful shard of betrayal and fear for everything that could’ve been done to me while asleep.

I’ve been drugged.

I’ve been taken from my home in France and kept locked inside of a room Goddess knows where.

I need to leave. Can’t wait any—

My nose twitches then and the scent of jasmines infiltrates my senses, cutting off my panicked thoughts. It’s floral and sweet, but more than that, it helps bring my world back into focus giving me a bit of the comfort the shadow in my dream gave. Not the same, but enough that I’m able to take a moment and rationalize my next move.

There’s a sense of belonging attached to it, too.

The same familial pull I’ve only encountered with one other person physically: my mother. And while I know it isn’t her and it hurts, I still move toward the doorway where Brice stands. I no longer see or fear him. Instead, I walk past and straight toward the room’s wide-open entrance. That’s when I catch sight of a woman being carried past us, her eyes closed and body limp in the arms of a younger guard.

He’s not one I’m familiar with.

His eyes meet mine for a brief second, and in them, I find no malice. Nothing but a true sense of loyalty.

“You reacted strongly toward the witch, ma petite princesse. Why?” Brice’s voice comes from behind me, too close for comfort, and it’s full of disgust. Accusations. For me? For her? I do not know, but then a second later, I’m caught off guard as a thick arm wraps around my midsection, pulling me almost flush against his much larger frame. “What did she do for you to rush past me like that? For you to want to be closer?”

Brice is jealous. It pours out of him, deepening his horrid scent.

“That’s not it,” I say, voice low and calm while everything inside of me is revolting at his touch. My insides shudder and my gut churns, nearly making me sick, but doing so is completely useless right now. He has the upper hand, and shoving him off harshly or punching him in the face won’t help me or the witch beckoning me to find her. If anything, it will make this sick game more interesting to him. Remain calm. He’s coming soon. Those five words filter through my head in a gentle, female voice. It’s not mine. Not one I’ve heard before, yet it doesn’t set off any alarms somehow. “How is that even possible?”

It’s almost as if her spirit, her soul, is telling me to…trust her. And for some reason, I do. My body becomes lax just long enough for the brute fae behind me to ease his grip. For me to step forward and out of his embrace.

“How is what possible?” Brice’s deep timbre snaps me into focus and I shrug, but he doesn’t like that. I’m whirled around and gripped once again; this time, his hand finds purchase on my right hip. Tight and uncomfortable, his touch almost causes me to look up, but I bite the inside of my cheek instead. I close my eyes and cling to the reassurance those five words, for some odd reason, gave me. Remain calm. He’s coming soon. “Answer me, Anaya. What did you mean?”

“Nothing.” I’m avoiding his probing stare because I don’t have an answer. Not one that makes a lick of sense. “Just don’t understand why she’s here.”

“Try again.” Fingers dig in deeper. They almost cause me to cry out. “Last chance. The truth this time.”

“Please step back. I need space.”

“Look at me.”

Remain calm. He’s coming soon.

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