Redemption

Chapter Thirty: The New Perspective

Washing off in the shower the next morning, I could see the extent of Micah's anger. I had large bruises on my upper arm, the outline of Micah's hand clearly visible.

I saw Micah staring at the marks during breakfast, his eyes tortured. I knew he was sorry. He had never meant for things to get so out of control. He only ever wanted to protect me.

Yet, Micah never apologized for his behavior. He pretended like nothing happened, still only speaking to me when he had to. That hurt far worse than any physical pain he could have caused.

As the days continued to pass, things between Micah and I were growing continuously more frigid. Micah had long ago stopped walking me to my training sessions, and I was glad. I enjoyed the solitaire far more than his company.

An apparent rift was beginning to form between us. Between our busy schedules, and Fletcher being assigned additional duties around Tueri, the three of us were rarely together at the same time anymore.

At meals, we sat at different tables. I now spent this time with Dennis. I would occasionally catch Micah watching me crossly from the other side of the cafeteria, but I just learned to ignore him. He didn't get a say in my love life.

The majority of the time, Micah and I would only communicate during my afternoon lessons, most of which were spent with an agitated Micah barking orders at me when I failed to produce magic. He didn't even try to hide his annoyance at my ineptitude now.

"You have to concentrate, Alexis," Micah said firmly, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Don't you think I am? This is just as frustrating for me as it is for you," she snapped back at him.

"That's doubtful," he muttered.

It bothered me that my magic would surface when I least wanted it to, but when I tried to summon it at will, the power was nowhere to be found. How could I use it in battle if it disappeared any time I actually needed it?

Micah was beginning to lose patience with me, and he was letting it show. He frequently temperamental, and more often than not, left the field in a huff, refusing to even look at me for the rest of the night.

In the evenings, the two of is would simply retire to our bunk where an awkward silence hung in the air. Fletcher was working later and later each night, so he wasn't around much to act as our buffer. Micah would sit on one side of the room and review battle plans, while I studied my textbooks on the other side, before finally going to bed.

Sometimes I was concerned that it didn't seem to bother me more that we were so distant. But then my mind to become preoccupied with some other worry, and our dissipation would be temporarily forgotten.

My nightmarish visions had also continued, but with the tense environment in my team these days, I dared not say a word. Everyone was already losing confidence in my abilities, and I didn't need yet another reason for them to doubt me.

Each night I would lie awake, putting off the inevitable. But, eventually, my exhaustion would consume me, and I would be transported back to the dark castle where I witnessed any number of murders as the King continued his search for me.

I watched as he paced nervously in the castle, twisting his crimson ring for hours at a time, thinking of new plans to capture me. Each morning I would wake up terrified and drenched in sweat. Still, I hid my distress enough to get me through my unrelenting training sessions.

The only relief I felt throughout the stressful weeks was my meetings with Dennis during meditation time. Each day I would walk into the gardens where Dennis would be waiting with a smile. We'd find a comfortable bench or tree trunk, and talk for the entire hour. Dennis had this uncanny ability to make me laugh, even when I was on the verge of tears. I was truly beginning to feel like Dennis was the only person left in the world who understood me.