For What is Bought in Blood

The Only Place Darkness Cannot Survive

I have a very severe limp as I wander the grassy plain in my dark clothing. I am fearful of being seen in such bright sunlight in the vast openness of this field. My ash and clothes will not be enough in the harsh winter sun, proving no warmth but illuminating all. Snow already covers the ground, remnants of a dry autumn present in the stalks of tall grass still reaching for the sun, protruding through the fallen crystals.

My hip wails at my attempt to crouch low to the ground. Even the grasses are too sparse to hide me in the omnipotent white. From my grounded position, the world doesn't seem so large, and I take a moment to breathe through the crippling fear.

Crunching of ice shoots me upright, pivoting in my spot for signs of movement.

"Allie?" Hollie says from across the plain. She is also dressed darkly, covered from the top of her head with a cloak down to her feet in black boots. Unlike me, she is holding herself tightly against the elements, likely not layered enough to survive. All around is a flat plain of ice and snow; there are no buildings or mountains to head towards. Shivers begin to creep up my spine as I rush forward, knowing we may only outlast such a journey together.

Hollie takes as many steps backward, stumbling over herself. I wait for her to righten herself, confused. I take three more large strides forward, and without turning, she takes three large ones backward. Why won't she let me come to her?

"Hollie, we need to get together. We can't survive alone." I plead with her, outstretching my arms. "You will freeze."

She shakes her head, taking a tentative look behind her. As if it was never there before, a frozen lake appears behind her form. It is small but holds no snow on top, as if it was iced over only recently. The ice cracks loudly, a warning sign that will not be ignored. 

"Come to me, please," I am begging now, knees buckling with sudden understanding. The water will fill her lungs and she will become trapped underneath the ice, destined to freeze to death before she can even drown.

I take a step backward, hoping she will follow. She is shivering in earnest now as snow begins to fall, resting atop the strands of brown hair that have freed themselves from her cloak. She remains rooted to the edge of the small pond. I do not dare a step forward, even if my heart is pining to save her.

"We can make it home. I promise. What of your house robe? Your collection of teas? Wouldn't it be nice to see it all again?" My tears freezing to my eyelashes and cheeks. Hollie just stares at me, the desperation of our situation plainly shown in her wide eyes and hunched form as she tries to conserve her warmth. 

Ice crested ground crunches behind me and I whirl around, feet rooted in place. Like I had willed him there in my desperation, Terran keeps a puzzled look leveled at Hollie's distant form. Unmoving, he glances at me and I feel scorned beneath his eyes. My brows furrow in confusion at him. What have I done to deserve such a hateful look?

Like a wraith in the night Terran takes a heady step forward. I thrust my arms out to stop him, but he powers through me. Still facing the chiseled side of his face I hear a distinct cracking followed by a feminine cry, until the silence that only death creates bounces through the snowflakes to my ears.

***

I am cold and my hip feels set ablaze. A heavy arm is draped over my middle and a warm body pressed against my back, entirely encompassing my curled form. As my eyes adjust to the brighter light I see darkly stained wood in diamond shapes, clumps of dust and other signs of disuse at eye level. It is this unforgiving pallet that has caused me such discomfort, confusion chases the pain. For a moment I almost forget what brought me here, and it is a peaceful moment.

Terran is snoring lightly behind me, his breathing even and deep. The bones along my left side are a mixture of numbness and pain as I attempt to shift my weight. Terran is an unmoving force behind me, his fingertips digging into the skin right under my ribcage, preventing me from providing relief to my burdened side.

The windows in the library are sparse to protect the pages and paintings, but the small sliver of an open window I can see suggests it is deep into the morning. Light hardly reaches our corner, a purposeful choice from last night causing my heart to kick up.

I squeeze my eyes shut against reality. Maybe Reagan poisoned me at tea yesterday and this is all a dream conjured by a fever. It would've been easy, in fact. Tea was brought when he was alone, no one out in the garden to monitor his movements.

No. I barely drank any of the tea before he splattered it along the wall. I begin moving in earnest then, pushing against Terran's heavy arm to free myself. With a dramatic groan he pulls his arm away, seemingly unaware of the very compromising situation we were just sleeping in.

I sit up next to him. The mourning gown I wore for Hollie swishes across the floor as I try to stand, conscious of my still-numb body. I keep my eyes trained on Terran as I do, unable to look away. How does he sleep so peacefully on the floor, stretched out as if he was in bed? Arm thrown behind his head for a pillow, he has repositioned the offending arm across his own stomach. Dawn has come and gone and yet he rests like the moon is high.

Lost in my anger of losing Hollie almost tempts me to kick him awake. But I know this anger is not for him and it would be childish to do so, especially after all he admitted last night. He soothed me, held me as I raged against all I've ever known, and I suddenly feel ashamed to even have considered it.

Kneeling next to him, I smoothe the hair that lays across his forehead. Something about him is so innocent in this state. In his land of dreams was he still an assassin, killing just to make a living? Did he live a full life with his Rose instead of ending up here?

"Terran," I whisper, heart straining at the knowledge that I must wake him. Was he meant to be at Guard roll call at dawn? He doesn't stir in the slightest. Not even an eyelid flutter. "Darling." I push, surprising myself by saying my mother's favorite nickname. I lightly stroke the stubble forming along his jawline, a full shadow of dark hairs against my fingertips. It feels oddly comforting.

He rises then, waking surprisingly gentle for an assassin being coddled in his sleep. The second his eyes open, he cracks a smile that kickstarts my heart. I find myself smiling back at him without hesitation. He reaches his hand up to grab my wrist, tilting his face to plant a kiss on my palm. It feels so sweet and familiar, I almost forget what the day ahead holds. He holds my hand tightly, as if he doesn't quite believe he is awake.

"You fell so deeply asleep it didn't feel right to move you," he sheepishly admits, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He uprights himself and helps me do the same, not letting go of my hand. I can still feel the weight behind my eyes and the tightness in my throat as if I have not expelled all my tears.

"I think I would like to sleep in a bed now," I whisper weakly, knowing I will soon crumble again. It will be hard to enter my room, impossible to fall asleep again with this gaping hole of sorrow widening in my chest.

Lightly, as if I was a flower with delicate petals, Terran pushes my hair behind my ear, leaning downward in hopes of catching my gaze again. "Whatever you wish, my princess."