Queen of Midnight

Chapter Thirteen.

My head pounded with the weight of a thousand stones. My entire body ached as though I was thrown off a mountain, and I couldn't tell where the pain was coming from. I tried to lift my arms, my fingers, anything, but to no avail. I could only groan.

I managed to ween my eyelids open, not knowing how much time had passed. I couldn't figure out where I was, or what was going on. My chest felt heavy, like I was being held down. Bright light glared down at me, forcing me to wince and squint as I felt the ache spread to my head. Still, I couldn't bring myself to move.

More time passed, and I felt a sharp pain stabbing into the side of my ribs. I groaned again, trying to move my body so I could ease the discomfort, but the pain only worsened, and I could do nothing but cry silently.

Slowly, the pain lessened and I felt myself in a different position where I lay, unsure of how or when I got there. I managed to move my head to the side, my eyes still closed to avoid the bright light from before, but I could feel sensation returning to my body. It was a very slow process, and awfully uncomfortable, but I could feel an improvement nonetheless.

I could hear voices murmuring. I tried to reply, to say something, to ask what was happening, but I couldn't bring my voice to work, and it was frustrating me more than my inability to move my body.

More time passed. I had no idea how long I had been lying here for; minutes, hours, weeks, who knew? I was beginning to lose sense of who I was. Not that I had any idea; nothing was making sense to me. I didn't know if I was dead or alive. I had no idea who I was meant to be, or if I was even a person.

Finally, I felt my fingers twitching, and I felt my heart rate accelerate at the idea of being able to move. My heart beat faster and faster as I forced myself to pick up that feeling and fight for it, until suddenly I felt a pressure on my arms, holding me down, stopping me from moving. I tried to cry out, to scream, but I had no idea if it even worked. I had to fight; it was all I had left.

The pressure from my body left me as I felt myself succumbing to the comfort of darkness again, not even able to acknowledge the defeat I felt from failing to fight for myself. By the time I was able to move and respond to my brain's commands, everything had begun to ache again, but this time, something was different. Pictures suddenly flitted in and out of my mind; I saw trees, snow falling, a beautiful view over the edge of a cliff face. A face. A dark, menacing face. Anger. It came at me, overwhelmed me, and I screamed, fighting back, and that's when my body snapped and my consciousness suddenly flooded in.

I flung my eyes open, feeling sweat form in beads on my forehead as my chest rose and fell quickly with the pace of my accelerated heartbeat. I remembered the man from the images in my mind; Anthony. And James. James.

"James," I choked out, my eyes adjusting to the scene around me. I was in a room. James' room. I flicked my head around, wincing as pain shot through my neck as it twisted, and scanned the room. It was empty. Well, not empty, but rather clear. I turned my head again, confused, and found all the furniture had been pushed to the edge of the room and was pressed up against the walls in awkward positions. When the realization set in, I blanched.

"It's okay, just breathe," a soothing voice murmured from my side, and I tried to turn without putting myself in more pain to see who it was. My eyes welled up at the sight of my mate, and the condition he was in. His beautiful, grey eyes held dark circles beneath them, his skin pale and almost sunken in, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. His clothes were not his usual royal robes; he wore a pair of simple pants and a white shirt that hung from his body loosely, not done up properly or seemingly washed in a while either. He looked pained. Like the sight of me hurt him.