Page 51 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
But now…
Now, I’ve dove headfirst into dark and depthless waters, unsure of what I’ll find when I reach the bottom. I’m so conflicted between it being soright,and yet like something is just off. Putting my face in my hands, I take a deep breath, trying to stifle my unease.
I just want to be at peace.
I consider going upstairs to take a bath. Or going to my room and going to sleep. I then consider going to find Locane to demand the truths he avoids; demand to know why I feel like this. Because I think he knows. I do none of these things and instead walk back outside, closing the door gently behind me.
I don’t have a destination in mind. I just wander. My intention was to gather my thoughts and formulate a plan. But as I walk through the tall grasses on the warm summer day I find my mind fully blank. I’m numb, my weariness finally winning and bringing me under. I suppose it’s better than being angry or panicked.
My feet find my favorite clearing, the one that I first used my currents at shortly after I arrived here. I sit for what must be hours, my arms wrapped around my knees, my eyes closed while I soak in the sun's rays as I try to hold myself together.
There’s still a slight soreness between my legs, and I briefly smile, remembering how it came to be. That smile fades as quickly as it came when a weight of what feels like raw guilt comes to sit heavy on my chest.
As grateful as I am for the alone time, I also can’t help but be slightly miffed at the fact that Locane had nothing to say to meafter such an intimate act. That he hasn’t come to find me after I’ve been out here long enough for the sun to start to dip towards the trees. Surely, he would think to look here. I gather myself when my stomach starts to growl with hunger, trying to tuck these strange feelings away, and make my way back towards the house.
I’ve made a decision on my next course of action.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It’s quiet when I go inside.
Standing in the foyer, I consider what I should do first and opt to head up the stairs to my room. In the armoire, I find a leather backpack. My numb and shaking hands pack it with two changes of clothes, a cloak, and an extra pair of shoes. I will have to figure out something for coin, but I don’t let it deter me from my potential plans. Grabbing the handwritten journal off my nightstand, I shove it in the pack as well. If I have a chance, I will grab supplies from the kitchen, but I’m not too hopeful. Luckily, my wooden training staff is already propped by the front door. It’s not much, but it’s something.
Collecting clean clothes, I then head to the washroom. After a quick bath I dry, dress, and lace up a pair of boots. Leaving the bathroom, my gut clenches in a tight knot. While I’m not particularly hungry now that I’ve prepared myself to leave, I know that I need it.
When I make it downstairs, I still don’t see or hear Locane. I throw my bag over my shoulder and go into the kitchen. Packing a small sack of food, I’m mindful to only take what will travel well and fill two water skins in the sink before placing them on the breakfast bar, the wooden roll partition still up from the first nightwe came here. I then make myself a quick sandwich of peanut butter and honey on sourdough.
It tastes like ash in my mouth and is difficult to swallow, but I force it down knowing that, no matter what I do, I need my strength. I’m almost finished when I finally hear Locane come through the front door. My heart begins to patter in my chest rapidly. I watch the door, waiting for him to enter as I hear his heavy footfalls coming down the hall. Closing my eyes and steadying my breathing, I’m ready to confront him; I’m ready to leave depending on his answers.
He stops just a few feet short of me and asks accusingly, “Going somewhere?”
My lids slide open, ready to say all the things I have been practicing in my mind the last hour—but I stop short with a startled gasp when I see him.
“Fucking Mother, are you okay?” Concern is overriding everything else previously running through my mind.
Locane looks awful, absolutely awful. His cheeks are gaunt and his eyes are surrounded by bruised circles. His hair has lost its shine entirely and hangs limp at his shoulders. His skin has a sickly, waxy appearance. The paleness he’s had since coming here has morphed into a concerning green tinged gray.
He’s thin, too thin. But just hours ago, I felt his full, taut body on top of me, ran my fingers over healthy tissue and defined muscles that are suddenly just… gone. Locane is emaciated; like he has been sick for a long time; like the Lady of Death is lurking at his door. I take him in fully, scanning him head to toe and notice something dark staining his fingertips and hands.
My feet carry me to him in quick strides, picking up his hand and inspecting it closer. “What is this, soot?” My fingers rub at thedarkness, but it doesn’t budge. Bringing my eyes to his face again, concern for him bleeds into concern for myself when I take in the murderous rage he wears.
Utterly fucking deranged.
The expression would be terrifying at any time, but paired with the sudden, drastic change in his appearance, I’m downright petrified.
I was already wavering on regret for our earlier encounter, knowing something had changed. I teeter now straight off the edge of that cliff—realizing that our intimacy was a horrible, irrevocable mistake and whatever has changed is not anything good.
“I said, are you going somewhere?” he seethes through gritted teeth, grabbing my wrist. Locane’s grip is too hard; his hand is shockingly cold. I stifle my squeak of pain and rip my wrist out of his grasp.
“What happened to you?” I whisper in fear.
The taint of our familiarity fully engulfs any lingering possibilities that there is any coming back from whatever has happened with us. I understand now why he didn’t want to tell me the truth of what went sour between us. I don’t know what happened, but I know that it is unforgivable.
Locane takes a menacing step toward me, dead eyes roving over me. “What do you mean?”
“You look awful! I saw you, I felt you hours ago, and you were fine. You were fine! Now… Now you look… You look like you’ve been ill for a long time. And what is staining your hands?” I struggle to get my words out. Panic rises in me rapidly, gripping my throat in a tight vice, making it hard to breathe.
Confusion crosses Locane’s cold, fearsome face before he has a moment of clarity. He glances down at the hand I tried to rub themystery substance from and raises it in front of his face. His eyes go wide before he screams, “Fuck!”
