An Ember's Tale

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ember awoke with silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She felt her heartbreak over and over again with every tear that fell on her swollen cheeks. She gripped the sheets around her as she began to sob violently. She had cried too often the past couple of days, but this was different. She was exhausted, drained, heartbroken, and far past her breaking point. The tears seemed to be for a million other things, yet they were all for the same reason.

Yesterday, she had everything, and today, she had nothing.

She tried her best to wipe the tears from her eyes, but they just kept falling. Through her blurry vision and tears, she made out that she was in a large, grand bed with a thick comforter over her made of soft fur. Blue, sheer curtains were over the bed, making it hidden from the rest of the room. One was pulled aside, but she gasped softly and wiped the tears from her face when she saw who was there. She quickly sat up as her breath stopped and her heart pounded in her ears.

Ember wished Mark looked repulsive to her. She wanted the very thought of him made her want to vomit, but when she saw him, leaning against the wall, dressed in leather and black, her heart couldn't help but beat violently in her chest. Butterflies erupted in her stomach when his flashing eyes met hers. His slight, smug smirk made her want to reach across the room and slap it off of him. He used to look like a saint to her, but now he looked like a fallen angel, dressed in black, with betrayal and lies hiding behind his tainted beauty.

Ember tried to get up, but her strength was taking far too long to return to her. Her arms began to hurt, and when she looked down, she could see the brand in her arms was still fresh, raw, and extremely painful.

"The pain goes away," Mark told her as he got up from the wall. "After a while. Mine took a couple of days, but I have a feeling yours will heal faster."

"I'm surprised I'm not bound," Ember said as Mark began to approach her. "You're underestimating my determination and anger."

"No," Mark shook his head. He stopped just in front of her while his fingers gripped the edges of the curtain. His smirk grew more expansive with every word he spoke. "I know better to underestimate you."

"Really?" Ember questioned. She reached her hand shakily under her comforter to find a familiar dagger meet her fingers. She thought Akull destroyed it, but perhaps it was just an illusion. "Because you're doing it right now."

Ember leaped out to the bed and grabbed her dagger while her strength returned to her. She held it straight at Mark, but his smile just widened as amusement danced in his flashing eyes. He suddenly grabbed her wrists, causing her to let go of the dagger as he pinned her against the wall.

Ember looked up angrily into his eyes, but he was smiling victoriously down at her with the same cold eyes he had shown in the throne room.

"Maybe," he said in a low, aching voice. "Maybe, I just wanted to see what you would do. It's good that you're angry."

"Good?" Ember questioned as she stared widely into his eyes. "How is any of this good? How can you stand there, smiling at me, when you know I'm breaking? Is that just part of your game? Is it not enough to break my heart? Do you have to taunt and torture me until I'm nothing more than an empty shell?"

"You don't understand, do you?" Mark asked her as he gripped her wrists harder, but something changed in his eyes. "Why do you think I showed you that dream?"

"To ease your conscience," Ember spat. "To make it seem like you have a reason, a justification for what you did. I get it, Mark. I'm the reason your parents died. I'm the reason why your childhood was so sick and twisted. I'm the reason why your life was so awful. Isn't that enough for you? Why do you have to be so-"