Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 24

After taking a bath, cleaning myself thoroughly and washing the muck of the past few weeks out of my hair with a luxurious shampoo of fine making, I realize how much I was at mistake for questioning Citlali. I smell clean, my skin is smooth and clear, and my hair isn't clumped or knotted as it has been.

Along with the bath, I sense the emptiness left behind from Celestine's death slowly drift down the drain with the dirt-stained water. Alone in the bathing room of grey stone walls and wooden floorboards, I stare at myself in the cracked mirror and brush out the scarlet strands of my hair. When we were children, Celestine wanted nothing more than to style my hair with braids in the shape of a crown over my scalp. I never obliged her until our mother told me to.

My mouth turns down after it had crept into the whisper of a smile at the thought of her. The change is caused by the tattoo snaking to my chest and staring back at me through the mirror, its smile concealing daggers of a sharp make. I scrubbed the area clean, and that made the ink brighter as though it'll never fade. Not until I do.

I've come to terms with having it, but staring at the freshly cleaned ink against the bulk I managed to gather underneath the king's control and during these weeks of training...it churns my insides. I am this person now; I am the last Aimrey in my family and nothing will change that. My family won't come back from the dead; how I've wished they could and witnessed it in my dreams—their death is final. As is the cold wasting of my heart.

The wooden door painted white is shut, blocking me off to the rest of the inn room. Citlali didn't disappoint, the room is much fancier than the one Renit and I shared months ago when we searched for the crystals. Everything was easier back then, whether I realized it or not, and I never should've taken advantage of being here rather than the castle. It wasn't long after we got back that hell unleashed itself from the clouds and rained down upon us in the shape of frozen blades.

My eyes drift to the tattoo again. The markings result from that night in the throne room. It was supposed to be Dalis's birthday, but the king used it as my rebirth into the monster he was searching to create. The king's third hand. I scoff at the title given to me, wrapped in a bow the shade of blood and handed over without a second thought. I merely filled Renit's shoes, and even that hadn't been good enough to steer myself a permanent spot.

The king searched for faults within me, within Binx, within everyone he came in contact with during those experiments. He wanted only loyalty—nothing more, nothing less. I couldn't grant him that, for there was still the true self hidden underneath, I just hadn't realized how...suffocated she was. I find myself feeling the same way now. Only the ache has worsened.

I force myself to stare back at the amber eyes meeting mine. In the background, the white curtain framing the tub disappears to my vision, and it's only my clean face, the damp strands of my hair, the sharp line of my jaw—everything stares back. My mother's eyes, but their courage isn't the same. I couldn't save her daughter, I couldn't...I couldn't do anything right. The only reason I'm here now is at the hands of those that are willing to leap over cliffs with jagged rocks below to keep me safe.

I've done...nothing.

My jaw tightens, but I make the conscious decision to not rile. Renit is outside the door, waiting for me to remove myself from the bathing room so he can finally take a bath himself. I can't make a crumbling fool of myself when he's so exhausted; he can hardly keep his eyes open.

Before I disappeared and locked myself in here, he slumped onto the edge of the large bed and promised to retrieve a meal from downstairs. The removal of his boots left me with a different answer, as did the slumping of his shoulders. I hadn't worried much about it until now, he may be sleeping out there instead of actually preparing to place our dinners on the table.