The Heir of Night

23

Theia felt Nyx's eyes on her as she pushed herself to the edge of his bed. Her arms were weak, trembling as she used them to push herself up to stand. Her sleeping gown fell around her thighs as she took a shaky step, and then a more confident one. She avoided his gaze as she made way to the door, only to be stopped by his hand grabbing her arm. Theia met his eyes, fire burning deep within her. She knew this stage of grief well, she'd seen it many times.

"Where are you going?" He snapped. Theia blinked slowly, willing herself to gain the energy to fight back. When she felt steady enough, she tore her arm from his grasp.

"You cannot tell me to leave and expect me to stay, Nyx," she rasped, throat burning at the use of her voice after days of silence. He looked over her, that indent growing between his brows.

"Where are you going?" He repeated. She watched his fists curl at his side. Theia met his eyes again and licked her lips.

"I'm leaving, it's time for me to go, anyhow." She turned and made for the dreaded bedroom. It would ache to enter it, but she couldn't return to her home in a nightgown. Theia bit down on her tongue and shoved the door open. She didn't look at the bed, half afraid Maia's spirit would be laying there. Instead, she made haste and tore her nightgown off. Nyx had neglected to dress her in underclothes all the times he bathed her.

She shivered at the cold air. No one had built a fire in here since that night. Theia grabbed a pair of silken underwear and a brassiere and pulled them on. As soon as her fingers left the fabric, Nyx came barging in. Theia ignored him, filing through the wardrobe for the warmest clothes.

"What are you doing?" Nyx asked, and Theia was growing tired of hearing questions like that. His rude awakening had put that fire back within her veins and now all she felt was rage. The despair, the longing, the ache, all replaced by the singular emotion. His touch fueled it. When his hand landed on her arm, Theia turned. She shoved his chest as hard as she could manage, not moving him at all. He caught her wrists, a position they had been in many times.

"Don't touch me, Nyx," she snapped, trying to shove him again. The grip on her tightened and she glared up at him. Nyx only smiled, stepping closer.

"There she is. I've been growing tired of seeing you void of emotion, Theia. I missed this part of you, the feisty side of you."

She growled and tugged against his grip. "So you insulted me, threw my trauma into my face, just so I'd get angry with you?"

"I'd rather you hate me than nothing at all."

Her eyes shot to his. His smile had been wiped away, his grip loosening on her wrists. Her teeth ground together as she decided on her next words. She wanted to tell him that she had needed his touch all those days, but that thought sent a pang of agony through her stomach. Instead, Theia tore her arms from his grasp and turned away from him. She grabbed a thick sweater and pulled it on, fastening the buttons on the back quickly. Next she pulled on thick leggings and layered wool pants over them. In this house, it was far too warm, but it would be suitable in her own.

"Then rest assured that I hate you, Nyx," Theia spoke sharply, not wanting to meet his eyes. She gathered a few more items of clothing and hung them over her arm before shoving past the male and marching to the stairs.

"You're just going back to that shit hole, then? Just because I pissed you off, you're leaving?"

Theia whirled around, gripping the railing. "I'm leaving because I no longer need help. My mother is dead, and she is the only one I was fighting everything for. Tell your father that my home no longer requires him and that our deal is off. I don't need to stay here, I don't want to stay here. Thank you for everything, Nyx, but I am no longer a part of your responsibilities."