Page 118 of Of Vows and War: Special Edition
But everything was different. Off, somehow. This was not my gilded prison.
I took heaving gasps of the hot air, crawling until I felt my head hit a wall.
Think, Asher. Just think.
My left thumb reached for my ring finger, feeling the cold metal there. I needed light. I needed proof.
This was real. I knew what was real.
Letting my fingers trace up my arm, I slowly named off my scars and where I got them, wishing more than anything that they were still there to remind me of who I was and where I have been. Because I was in Pike. I knew it, even if my heart still raced at the recollection of the haunting nightmares.
I soothed myself with memories of the last couple of weeks. Of the time spent in love and safety. I recalled the way Theon’s blood had spilled into my mouth as I ripped out his throat. I thought of watching Bellamy dig out Xavier’s heart. They were dead. Gone. Left to rot or burned to dust.
Mia was still out there, but she could not take anything from me again. I had Bellamy. Our friends. Adbeel. I was alive. My happy ending was within my grasp, if only I could just remember. Could break free of the haunting memories of pain and blood.
Bellamy could help me. But if I went to him, would he think me too unstable for the wedding? Could I scare him too much? This was his time too, and I feared stealing that from him like it was being stolen from me.
My hand stilled on the spot of my arm where there was once a jagged and raised reminder of what happened after Haven. My hopelessness etched into my skin.
My scars. I needed my scars.
I knew I should have called for help. Anyone would have been glad to talk me through the panic that flooded my veins and weighed my body down like lead. But I did not want to run through castles nearly naked and cry in front of strangers. I wanted to do this on my own.
Pushing myself to a standing position, I relaxed my shoulders and walked through the dark room to the bedside table. Cool wood chilled my scalding feet, anchoring me as I felt for the brass handle. This one was on my side, which meant if I opened up the drawer—yes, there was the soft leather of my sheath.
I was going to be okay. I was going to fix myself. I was going to walk down that aisle whole.
Alive and well and safe. That was what I was. All I needed was a reminder. An anchor to this reality.
My free hand reached in and grabbed a set of matches, a slight shake to them as I sparked the fire to life and lit the candle. There, I could see. And the first thing my eyes looked at were the words inked on my skin.
Sterling and I had both been struggling, though we were loathe to admit that to anyone other than each other. I had spent much of my free time with him or in his head, the two of us talking one another back to reality. He had come back from Maliha more haunted than before, his family wanting everything to be as it was and Sterling knowing he was forever changed. So when Shah had come back with him and Genevieve, we had decided there was an opportunity there.
Shah was not as skilled as a mortal trained to etch the tattoos, but she knew how to do what we asked. And, luckily for us, her script was immaculate.
Now, as I read the words, I thought of Sterling. Maybe I could go to him. But, if I were being honest, no one other than Bellamy would help right now. And even then, I would still fall apart later. I needed to fix this permanently.
Why worry Bellamy when I could handle it?
Yes, I could do this.
My eyes scanned the words on my wrist one last time.
This is real.
And then I unsheathed the blade and began the steady work of earning back my scars. After months of tracing their ghosts, it was easy to begin reviving them.
Blood poured out, the deep red staining my white night dress and pouring onto the ground, but that was okay. Stains and messes would not stop me from repairing myself. Even the bite of the blade was not enough to deter me.
Tears poured down my face, not because I was hurting, but because I was healing. Every dip of the dagger and rip of my skin was a second chance at the story I nearly lost. I was not breaking my body, I was mending it.
To my great disappointment, someone was always there to muck things up.
My door burst open, the wood swinging and cracking from where it connected with the rock wall. I shouted at the surprise, my magic not catching the four minds until they arrived.
Faster, I had to move faster. Maybe just one shoulder. The afriktor’s talons were a mark of great change. Of realization. Ineededthat one.
There was a hand and a voice and maybe even sobs somewhere in the haze around me. Suddenly I was being wrestled to the ground, my knees giving out as a dark hand lit fire to my body. I shouted in pain and fury and loss. They stole my reality. My truth. I was so fucking close.
