She felt blessed, like the Stars themselves had granted her this. There was no limit, no rules or constraints. She was boundless; she was home, safe and secure in his unbreakable embrace.
~
Shackled in an abrupt and demanding upbringing, Althera is...
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Everything you just told me is true?" Zephyra asked, brows tilted downward.
Althera nodded absently. "All of it. Every single filthy detail." When Zephyra didn't respond, she said, "It's a lot to digest, I know. I hadn't realized what he had done, what he did to make sure nothing was exposed. Even now, when my father is dead, he's still in control. Not even a shipwreck could end his cursed reign." And yet he had saved only her, not because he didn't want his dear daughter dead, but because he needed her to accomplish the one dream he would not let go.
Remembering everything – the journey, the storm, the cell with that monster – was only a part of what had to be done. Althera knew her father would never give up so easily. He'd made himself into a great beast that roamed the lands to achieve its final goal before passing onward. She had read about in the archives back in Rillefaene, under the orders of her father, of course, and the things she read – they were horrendous. Now that she had recalled all her previous memories, all she needed to do to be untethered was to kill the one man her father loathed more than anyone, anything.
I don't murder in cold blood.
Did she? What was the point in making her this way? What was the use of cutting her wrist and letting her father's dark, sinful blood pour into her veins? Even then she could still see the mark the cut had left behind – a white scar paler and thinner than any of the others.
"I envy you, Zephyra. I really do. You have it so easy, lounging around in a cell and still getting fed and fussed about while the pieces I receive are barely even crumbs." She was frustrated, and she wanted others to feel her pain, her suffering, her pressure. But the harsh words didn't seem to have the effect she wanted on Zephyra.
She sighed through her nose. "You think I have it easy?" Zephyra snorted, fiddling with the stalks of straw piled around her. "I'm actually not that simple, Althera. If anyone envies anyone, it's me."
"But you never seem to have much weight on your shoulders. You seem so relaxed all the time." A dangerous statement. Zephyra's eyes fluttered shut, her fingers freezing on the hay.
A deep breath, and then: "I am the leader of one of the four tribes that once were the guardians of the land. Long forgotten now, but still standing. We weren't tribes to start with, just crumbling kingdoms ruled by kings and queens before the seven territories were formed – seven placed that reigned cruelly and in enigmatic ways. The people could only watch in horror as everything we had worked for, everything we had fertilized and helped grow, turned into ash right before our eyes.
There weren't many men left in the tribes, for most of them had been killed in the Last Battle, a war between the kingdoms and the tribes. A bloody war that left no one alive. The kingdoms won, of course, and one of the four tribes were wiped out in the process. The loss forced us all to wander. It was a tragedy. We remained together, though, setting up camp in safe and secluded areas around the kingdoms and sheltered by the power of the rulers, now mainly queens.
