Page 90 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
“No. You will tell me what happened so I can be mindful to not do it again,” Alec tells me firmly. “Please, let me help you.” His tone has instantly changed, laced with a hint of desperation.
“I don’t want your help. I didn’t really want to sit down with you at all, but I felt fucking cornered when I found you staring at me. You could have said something to let me know you were there instead of just watching me!”
“Do not lie to me.” Alec stalks towards me, putting a large hand over his heart, his other against his stomach. “Ifeltyou seeking me out. The same way I do you.“ He’s right in front of me, but true to his word, he doesn’t touch me. “Why do you think I am always in that study? Hmm? I yearn to be near you, but you will not allow me in here.” He gestures widely around the room.
“My instincts are constantly screaming at me, knowing that you are in pain. But I am not able to comfort you, because you will not let me in here,” Alec brings his fingers up near my temple, but doesn’t make contact. “Please, let me be here for you. Speak to me—tell me your thoughts. Let me hold your hurt with you.”
I step away from him, moving quickly to put distance between us.
“If not me, then any other person that you want to speak to. Please, do not fold into yourself, Ellya,” he says with pleading eyes.
“You’re a liar, the same as your brother. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to be around you.” My words have to fight past my lips, and my eyes begin to well.
“You are so angry with me that you hold me in the same regard as him?” Alec doesn’t attempt to mask his hurt. “Please—give me the chance to earn your forgiveness.”
“What I can’t forgive you for was never being offered a choice with you in the first place. Now, leave.” I muster as much malice in the words as I can, and they strike home, effectively breaking my own heart along with his in the process.
Alec’s bronzed face drains of color, leaving him looking sick and as if a thousand words are weighing his tongue.
“Leave.” The word hisses again between my clenched teeth.
Alec abruptly turns and exits my chambers, not bothering to close the door on the way out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ALEC
Ihave not killed anyone for many years, until today.
This morning, I woke clear minded without the lingering effects of alcohol for the first time in months. I went straight to the cells in the dungeon, propositioning the Kingdom’s most dangerous criminals. Their choices were continuing to wait for trials, or face off with their king, any survivors free to go with all charges cleared.
They all foolishly took me up on the offer.
It was mere minutes before I was surrounded by bodies, my face and bare chest flecked with blood. There is only one left of the seven still breathing, and only because in the beginning of the fight I destroyed his mind, reducing his mentality to that of nothing more than an infant. He has since been laying on the ground in a puddle of his own piss, wailing loudly like a babe.
After I gut the final man, tearing him open from belly to sternum—his innards trailing to the ground—I prowl to the sad heap and slide the blade of my sword across his throat.
The killing is a mercy.
The fight was too easy, the men had no skill. Still, I relish in the blood. The death at my hands temporarily quells my anguished rage, steadily eating away at everything I am.
I was so hopeful that maybe Ellya was ready to let me in during our conversation a couple days ago. I felt her restlessness, her need to be near me. It caused me physical pain to not go to her; to respect her boundaries and wait for her to seek me out. The tiny light that had flickered back to life the night she returned has not grown past the small ember smoldering, but that day I felt it trying to burn.
When Ellya walked through the door, she did not notice that I was there—that I was watching her perusing the bookshelves. The heaviness that surrounds her these days had momentarily relinquished some of its weight.
My gaze locked on Ellya as I imagined coming up behind her and collecting her in my arms. I imagined her eyes fluttering closed, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she lay her head against my chest, returning my hold. Accepting me.
Accepting us.
My words were caught in my throat. I knew I should have said something, let her know that I was there. But I was too entranced, not wanting to break a moment where she did not seem so sad. When Ellya’s eyes finally met mine, they held relief. And that relief remained for nearly an hour before something set her off.
She withdrew from me again and insinuated that if given the choice, she would not choose me.
To be taken in the arms of the Lady of Death in that moment would have been a blessing.
As soon as I left her chambers, I applied a glamour and went to a bar nearby. After getting disgustingly drunk, I purposely started a fight, disfiguring some poor, undeserving soul by smashing a glass bottle against his cheek for a minor offense. I then destroyed half the bar brawling with several men who tried to break up the fight before I was arrested and brought to my own dungeon below the palace—bloodied and bruised. It was less than a thought to free myself and trudge back to the study that has become its own kind of prison cell in the last several months.
When I arrived, I drank more.
