The Queen of Elysium

Chapter 47 - A Brother's love

Aren blinks at the sunlight blinding him and his sleep-addled brain tries to work out why his bed chamber is not its normal dingy retreat. As soon as he works out that some cruel person has opened the curtains, reality crashes over him like a dark wave, its crushing weight pinning him to the mattress.

He screws his eyes tightly shut, already mourning the loss of the sweet oblivion that sleep brings. The night terrors no longer bother him now that he is a broken man. Instead, it is the waking moments that are a living hell.

"I have had enough, Aren," Leo's voice growls close to his ear. "You are getting out of bed now."

He looks up into the hard lines of his brother's face; the flecks of amber in Leo's blue eyes indicating that his patience is wearing thin.

"Leave me be."

The covers are ripped away from him and Leo crinkles his nose. "No! You smell! Get into the rain chamber, or so help me, I will drag you there."

Leo crosses his arms, the muscles bulging slightly. His brother is heavier set than him and Aren knows that it is rare that he can beat him in a wrestling match, even more so given all the meals that he has skipped.

Begrudgingly, Aren heaves himself out of bed and trudges over to the bathing chamber, where he stands numbly as warm water sluices over him. Herbal infused soap leaves him with a fresher odour.

Wrapping a large, fluffy towel around himself, he stands in front of a mirror and barely recognises the face staring back at him; slate grey eyes, an unkempt beard and hollowed cheeks.

Returning to the bed chamber, he finds that Leo has laid out fresh clothes. The dirty pile that he had left abandoned on the floor is now gone. The breeze coming through the open windows causes an outbreak of goose flesh. It is autumn still, but winter is coming.

Once dressed, Leo sits him down and stands over him like a sentinel while he eats a bowl of porridge swirled with honey and sweet spices. Somehow, he manages to swallow down each clogging mouthful; his stomach initially rebels, but then welcomes the sustenance.

Aren looks up once the bowl is scraped clean and is taken aback by the compassion and pity emanating from his brother's expression. I despise myself. Why does he not hate me too?

"Why are you taking care of me?"

"Because I love you and I cannot stand by and watch you wallow any longer. Come on, let us take a walk outside. You have been closeted in your chambers for far too long."

Aren cannot remember the last time he went outside the palace; the days seems to blur into one. There is a simple pleasure in the gentle kiss of warmth from the sun and watching leaves of amber, ochre and saffron dancing in the wind.

That small bit of peace is shattered when the last person he wants to see runs up. A livid, purple-red scar zigzags all the way down one side of Belinda's face from her hairline to her chin.

"Aren!" She smiles, the scar twisting her lip on one side.

Aren looks away and stares unseeing at the ground. His own self-loathing is marginally overshadowed by his hatred of her.

"Leo," she whines in a way which has Aren wanting to plug his ears. "Drake will not accept calls from me. I just get diverted to the Watcher who keeps up with some nonsense about having to communicate through him."

"Belinda," Leo responds in a measured tone. "All messages from Arcadia to Avalon do have to go through either Bram or the Watcher."

"If my brother knew how his precious queen had tried to kill me I am sure that he would not side with her."