Book 1: Brutality

Trauma

14

"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." - Laurell K. Hamilton

~Trigger Warning~

That Barathalion has cursed me so! That he has willed it so I can't even hum a lullaby to a baby! Unfair, unfair. Evil, wrong and unfair. I look away, shaking and fighting back tears.

"-There we go, should be all set up." Valindra bustles back around and stops short. "Albia? What's the matter?"

I shake my head, cradling Lindor awkwardly to wipe at my eyes. He cries out in protest at the change in position.

Valindra takes him back and stares at me a moment with her ink drop eyes. My heart thuds. She suspects what's happened. Of course she does.

For a moment, I'm certain she's going to confront me about it but she just says, "I'll let you get cleaned up."

I watch her go and then look around. The rope dangles, ready to be pulled. Around me, the forest spreads out. Craning, I can spot a gap in the branches where I can see the deep blue of a wide, calm lake and, beyond that, a range of snow-capped mountains. It's quiet, except for the morning chirp of birds and the buzzing progress of a few flower fey who don't even glance in my direction.

I wrap my arms around myself. I didn't put my ballgown back on this morning; I'm still in my petticoat. So I'm half naked anyway but I find out I can't bring myself to strip off this layer of fabric, even alone.

What's wrong with me? Part of it is that I've never bathed out in the open before. But there's something more — an inchoate, panicky reluctance.

—Barathalion's weight on me, pulling up my skirt—

I gasp and my knees buckle. I steady myself against the Tree, bark warm under my hand. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart to stop pounding. I'm here, not there. Barathalion is nowhere near here. But, I can still feel his hands and his body on me. Being pounded against the earth, bruised and battered. The tearing inside.

He's not here, he's not here, he's not here!

I open my eyes and take a deep breath. Whatever my feelings, I have to shower because I can't stay this dirty forever. Moving as fast as I can, I pull off my petticoat and remove my underwear. The air touches certain parts of me and I gag, but I don't let myself stop.

Yanking on the rope, I let down a cascade of cold water on my head and scrub myself with the bar of sop in the little wooden box attached to the Tree. I wash as quickly as I can before hastily towelling off and darting off to put my clothes back on. Dressed, I feel a little better but still have to breathe deeply for a moment before going back to find Valindra.

She's sitting on a sort of bench carved out from one of the exposed roots of the Tree, shelling nuts with Lindor at her side. She looks up as I come around. "All done?"

I nod before touching my hair and grimacing. She nods in understanding. "Yes, I agree, your hair's beyond salvation. Here, sit down. I'll give you a haircut."

I sit on the bench and hold Lindor in my lap while she bustles about getting scissors. I smile down at the half-goblin child. He is a sweet thing and a bit of a distraction from the growing darkness of my thoughts, the creeping horror. He's not enough of a distraction though.

Why am I remembering Barathalion now? I ponder this while Valindra cuts my hair. I hardly have him a thought while I was with the unicorn. But, the moment I ask myself the question, I know the answer.

The unicorn's mode was one of peace, detachment and serenity. While I was wrapped in her aura, all my emotions were placed at a distance, even my curiosity and confusion transmuted into an unquestioning wonder.

My memories were dim and feeble, neither pain nor passion existed. But now that I'm far away from the unicorn, just as my physical needs are reviving, my emotions are coming back to the surface and they're bringing my memories with them.

I shut my eyes. I don't want to remember but I have no choice. In the darkness behind my closed lids, I see Barathalion's face again, his bestial excitement. Those hands, clawing at me. The weight of him and most of all, the ruthless and brutal thrusting.

And then he just left, back to the party, without a backward glance.

That alone tells me everything. I was less to him than I was to the Court. To them, at least, I was a person with thoughts they could damage and feelings they could hurt. But to Barathalion, I was just something he could use and then discard, like a filthy, old rag.

In my lap, Lindor squeaks and I force my eyes open. I'm here now, far away from Barathalion. Focus. I bounce Lindor on my knee, which he seems to enjoy. I get a whiff of the mess he created in his diapers though and I scrunch my nose. Definitely needs a diaper change.

"All done," says Valindra finally. I toss my head around, it feels very light and strange without my mane of long hair. I wonder reflexively how I look, before realising that I really don't care. The thought, oddly, makes me feel better; it's strangely liberating.

Valindra takes her son with a wrinkled nose and we change him before washing my horn hair in a bowl of water. The waste-water is brown and scummy when we throw it away.

"Now, clothes," says Valindra, ushering me back inside. I'm carrying Lindor again, all clean now. "Your gown's lovely, but not practical." She takes it off the shelf, shaking it out doubtfully. "Though I suppose we could remake it-"

No! I shake my head firmly, holding Lindor to my chest.

She frowns at me. "Sell it then?"

I shake my head again, even more emphatically. I don't want it sold, where Myriil or any other pursuer may find it. In fact, mow that it's off my body, I can't look at it without a shudder. That's the gown that Barathalion touched, the gown I wore to my doom. I don't want it to exist at all.

Holding Lindor to my shoulder, I snatch up a knife from the counter and make a slashing motion. Valindra's eyes widen. "Tear it up?"

I nod vigorously.

"But Albia, this is a beautiful fabric. We could sell it or use it to make something wonderful-"

I shake my head and stamp my foot, making Lindor cry out. I put the knife down to soothe him, jiggling him on my shoulder.

"Well, all right." I can tell Valindra thinks I'm being unreasonable, but she lowers the gown. "We'll feed it to the spinners," she decides. "They can reuse the silk."

Together, we cut up the gown and pass up scraps of silk to the vast spiders that clamber down to suck them through their mandibles.

Valindra makes a new suit of clothes for me, pulling down swathes of green and brown fabric while muttering spells over her snapping scissors and flashing needle. The sewing is done at supernatural speed while I look after Lindor. He seems to have taking a liking to me and there's no point in thinking a human can help out with faerie sewing.

When Valindra is done, I have a loose shirt under a tight bodice and practical calf-length pants over moccasin-like shoes. It's strange to wear pants but I can see its uses out here in the forest. I give her a curtsy in thanks and we laugh at how odd the gesture is without skirts.

We feed my petticoats to the spiders too.

Another day, I think as we go to bed. I've gotten through another day.

~Fun Fact~

The Spanish national anthem has no words.

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