Threads of Fate

Chapter 20 ~ A Fraction of Truth

Tissaia didn't go far, recognizing that she couldn't just abandon Azael as much as she would like to. Maybe he was a cold-hearted prick, but she wasn't. She only went far enough that she could no longer see or hear him, then let out her tears in full force.

She pressed her back to the trunk of a tree and drew her knees to her chest, sparing half a thought to erect a shield around herself before she wrapped her arms around herself and wept. Her eyes burned and she could scarcely draw a full breath amidst her choking sobs. Within her chest, it was like her very heart was tearing itself in half.

What had happened to them? Where had the male she'd known so many years ago disappeared to? Why had he just attacked her when she was only trying to help? He'd fallen from the saddle and her mind had screamed at her that she'd let him die. Even when she saw he was alive, and would remain so, it continued to eat at her.

She'd been terrified for him, and he might as well have punched a hole through her chest. What had she done to deserve this? Had she brought the Cadhael curse down on herself by giving her heart to him when he didn't want it, just as Queen Elwyth had to King Mavron? She wept harder, threading her fingers through her hair and curling them down.

She had suffered through this for nothing. Azael didn't care about her at all. All her wasted years, all her futile hopes and self-reassurances... All the times she'd been forced to endure her father's wrath at her failings and had assured herself that it would be over soon. Azael would come to his senses soon. He would marry her and she would be free of her father forever.

Those hopes were crushed. She might as well have broken their betrothal and let her father wring her neck like he so obviously wanted to. The thoughts roared through her skull, slicing deep grooves through her chest with each one. She couldn't stop her tears even if she tried. They'd been held in for too long. Her heart had been bleeding for too long.

He would never love her. He would never care about her. He would never care what her father had done to her or her brother. He would send them back to him the moment he could. Her back sparked with agony at the thought, each of her scars aching as though they were freshly carved. She didn't want to go back there. She didn't want Talarion to go back there.

She didn't want to be forced to bow to her father's beatings. Didn't want to see her dull-eyed mother who didn't care what happened to them, so long as it kept Roshan's attention off her. Didn't want to go back to that dark manor that was their prison.

To her locked bedroom door that had been broken off its hinges too many times so her father could drag her out of bed by the hair and smash her fingers to pieces beneath his boot, all because there was still no ring on them. She would kill herself before going back there again.

Tissaia's head jerked up the next instant as something rustled nearby. If Azael thought she wanted to see him now, he'd find her dagger stuck through his palm. She rubbed her tears aside and blinked swiftly, then unsheathed her sword as several figures emerged from the woods. Their leader raised his hands in a show of peace.

"Easy. We're not here to hurt you," he assured her. "We found those Shifter bodies a ways back and figured whoever killed them must be nearby, and would likely be hurt." He crouched, holding out his hand. The other male and two females behind him sheathed their weapons silently. "My name is Vaeldan. We're from a hidden village nearby. We can help you. You're hurt." He gestured to her bloodstained clothes.

Tissaia shook her head and cleared her throat, though it did nothing to hide the hoarseness of her voice as she answered. "Most of it isn't mine. I already healed my own wounds."

"Well, that's a relief. Kahari thought you might be dying when we heard you." He tipped his chin towards one of the females, who bowed her auburn head in greeting.