Atonement - Book Four (Man x Man)

Chapter 35

Even the best-laid plans can have consequences when dealing with people who are not in control. Coming out of the fog of my own turmoil is something that I've, unfortunately, grown accustomed to as I piece back together the series of events that trigger me into an unexplainable panic.

 While I had begun to recover and reclaim my magic and my love for my fiance, overcoming months of torture is not something that is easily erased from one's memories. It's as if there are two of me, the part that surfaces when it's safe and the part that clings to my subconscious for dear life, trying so desperately to keep us safe.

 Oftentimes, I had heard that lycans were creatures that could not be predicted and yet I had found them to be easily managed in their lack of predictability because it's what I'd come to expect. I, for the most part, considered myself the dangerous one in these situations. A wolf could only inflict so much damage, I was capable of leveling cities if I was in the right state of mind and had the proper magical charge.

A wolf was easy. Whatever the plan, expect the wolf to do the opposite and adjust for it. It had never surprised me when anger overwhelmed a man to the point of berserk rage, could I fault a race that my father created for doing what they were designed for? There was a time when there would have been a witch hunt, the lycan would have been thrown into the streets to be made an example of by the people if something such as this would have occurred. 

It's was a free for all, in those days. 

Even when they walked amongst men, as children of the moon, the tolerance for their inability to control themselves was nonexistent, for, to be bitten by a werewolf was a curse for life. The penalty has always been death. I never understood it, even when I was served by the slaves my father created it always seemed unreasonably cruel to condemn a man for a mistake or a bred in reaction. 

It seemed unfair, at the time, considering I would probably get more therapy to help me control my 'disease' as opposed to the gallows. Yet, now, as I sit here in the fresh linen bed and wait for the morphine to kick in, I can see the justification.

Perhaps it was my broken arm that turned my thoughts sour; the deep puncture wounds that riddle my forearm on top of the cracked bones are a stark reminder of the force one of these beasts can inflict. When Tonic had attacked me in the throne room after he murdered our captives, I was able to quickly forgive him for his shortcomings. A young man did not deserve to see what he had endured.

 This, somehow, feels so much more intentional and I find that forgiveness is evading me. I watch the young woman tend my splint, carefully tightening down the bandages that hold the rods in place. My mind shifts to the experience of Loan resetting the bones in my arm. I suppose I should be grateful that in his time with Adriam, he had learned a lot of medicine and healing wounds. 

"That should do it, Your Majesty." She carefully lays my arm beside me. 

"Thank you, Ana." A common girl, a human I would assume. A normal person with a normal name doing normal tasks. For a moment, I envy her. What it must be like to leave this group of lunatics and go home, eat a calm dinner and sit with a book. "Do you have family, Ana?" 

I act on impulse, it'd be nice to escape for just a moment. I'm almost embarrassed by the self admittance that talking to the 'help' is out of the norm for me now. Between my capture and my racing thoughts, I hardly have time to speak to my cohorts, let alone the dozens who serve this manor.

She looks up at me with her chocolate-colored eyes that seem to fade into her brown hair that is pulled back into a formal bun. I can tell by the stray strands that she had done quick work of looking presentable when she figured out who it was she would be attending. "I do." She's a professional, or perhaps shy, she doesn't indulge me.