“Do you want help?” he asked, watching her adjust the shower temperature.
She only sent him a flat look over her bare shoulder.
Right.
So he stood in the doorway, watching as she unfeelingly wiped dried blood and wine from her skin. As she methodically washed her hair, letting the shampoo run down her skin when she rinsed it out. As she continued to stare at nothing with every movement.
As he let the reality of what he’d done sink in.
She had been trying.
These last weeks she had been trying to give in to the bond. She had been trying to obey his commands. She had been trying when she hung on to everything he said about the kingdoms, their history, and how they were run. He’d known all along she hadn’t been prepared for this. She didn’t understand the politics of the kingdoms. She didn’t understand just how far things would go, how low others would sink to gain an upper hand. How far he would go to get what he wanted.
She’d been trying when she’d force herself to not fidget at the dining table, to follow his commands, to be what she wasn’t prepared to be.
She’d been trying when she agreed to a Bargain, agreeing to pretend to be what he needed because she didn’t know if she could actually be what he needed.
She’d been trying when she let herself try to enjoy time on a Chaosphere field, letting them see a side of her they hadn’t experienced. When she’d let herself laugh and let him kiss her silly under the sun.
She’d been trying when she’d told them why she’d run to the river a few nights ago, hoping he wouldn’t do the same thing to her. Hoping he’d understand. Trusting him not to be the same oppressive thing to her.
She’d been trying to care when no one had truly cared for her in so long, she’d stopped caring about anything.
She’d been trying to learn, trying to understand, trying to do what was expected of her. She’d been trying, and all he’d done was tell her it wasn’t enough. That she wasn’t enough. That he needed her to try harder. Needed her to be more. Needed her to give and give and give.
And now she was this.
She’d stopped trying.
She’d stopped trying to be anything but the unpredictable, wild thing she was.
It wasn’t her fault. Everyone had demanded something of her she simply didn’t know how to manifest. Instead of teaching her to harness her wildness, she’d learned to simply survive with it.
She’d repeatedly told them she had more self-control than they realized. He hadn’t understood what she meant until now.
She was going to emerge stronger than any other Fae. She would be stronger than many of the Legacy in Devram.
And she’d stopped trying to control her chaos.
42
THEON
“Still no word from Axel?” Theon asked, pacing in the kitchen.
“He’ll be there,” Luka said, leaning against the counter. He glanced at the empty doorway. “Truthfully, I’m more worried about Tessa.”
The lounge was in shambles from Axel last night, so Theon had left her sitting in the dining room. She’d slept all afternoon.
No. He couldn’t say that. She’d lain in their bed, staring at nothing all afternoon.
When he’d told her it was time to get ready, she’d wordlessly done just that. Cosmetics. Hair. The other Fae would all be dressed in basic beige attire— loose linen pants and shirts for the males, simple dresses for the females. But not the Sources. They’d be dressed in the color of their kingdom, which is why Tessa was wearing a black dress. The straps tied at her shoulders, the neckline dipping low between her breasts while the remainder draped along her hips to the floor. She’d twisted her hair half up, securing it with a clip in the shape of a black flower.
“Has she said anything?” Luka asked when Theon remained silent.
“Yes, she’s spoken words,” he retorted, adjusting his sleeves despite the fact they were perfectly straight.
“But has she said anything?”