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Iris. Not safe. Wake up. Iris.
“Go away,” she mumbled, rolling over in her sleep.
Iris. Wake up. Iris.
Shh. Don’t listen to them. You’re safe here, Iris.
Another voice emerged from among the whispers, a voice that spoke different words. Comforting words.
A gentle hand caressed her cheek. She nuzzled into its warmth. “Char…”
It’s not him. He’s safe. You’re not. Wake up, Iris.
“I’m trying to sleep…”
Then sleep, Iris. Sweet little Iris.
Fingers combed through her hair, their strokes rhythmic and soothing.
“Mm…”
Iris, take the amulet. You’re not safe. Hold the amulet!
“I don’t want it…”
This?
The chain tensed around her neck as the amulet left her chest.
Iris! Iris, wake up!
“Leave me alone,” she moaned, burying her face in the pillow.
You are alone, Iris.
Warm breath tickled her ear, followed by a deep chuckle.
Alone and isolated. Just the way I want you.
“Mm…”
She furrowed her brow, the low threat working its way through her subconscious, where the whispers were screaming at her.
Iris! Wake up! Iris!
Sleep, Iris.
That voice was softer, and somehow stronger. It overwhelmed the whispers and the sense of unease, driving them out of her mind.
Sleep.
A hand pressed the amulet to her chest, leaving it there and returning to caress her cheek again.
Sweet little Iris.
Then there were no more whispers, no more voices, just a deep darkness.
Until morning came.
Bright light flooded the room. The fairies were flitting about, tying the bed curtains back, opening the drapes, lighting the wall sconces.
Iris groaned and sat up, holding her pounding head. The pain was so great, she couldn’t see straight. Even the fairies’ soft golden light hurt, and just watching them move made her nauseous.
But they were tugging at her sleeve, pulling her out of bed and over to the dressing screen, and she didn’t have the strength to resist them.
She stumbled over her own feet, falling to her knees. Her stomach was churning. The chamberpot appeared before her just in time to catch her vomit, and even after her stomach emptied, she was still retching, dry heaving until her belly hurt and her throat burned.
When the gagging finally stopped, she sat back on her heels, holding her stomach and rocking back and forth. Everything felt worse. The cool, damp cloth wiping her lips clean and the sweat from her forehead provided little relief.
“What’s going on?” she whimpered.
The knock at the door felt like a stab to her brain. She crumpled to the floor, holding her hands over her ears. The latch clicked, the sound echoing through her head.
“Iris? Iris!”
Jonah’s frantic voice was loud. Too loud. His hands were on her arms, pulling her to her feet, and her stomach flipped again, but she had nothing left to vomit, no strength to even try. She leaned into him as he half-carried her back to the bed.
“Iris, what’s wrong?”
Her voice was little more than a whisper. “I don’t know.”
He was sitting beside her, stroking her hair, holding her against his shoulder, and foggy memories from the night before floated to the surface. She stiffened.
“He was here.”
“Who was here, Iris?”
“The mage. The king’s mage.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No!” She winced at her own shout, but panic overpowered the pain, and she looked up at Jonah’s worried blue eyes and furrowed brow. “He was here. Last night. He was sitting right here, and talking to me, and… and touching me.”
She dropped her gaze to her lap. The thought made her skin crawl. He could have done anything to her. Anything. And she had been powerless to stop him.
And… it felt like he had been mimicking Char.
“But the barrier is still intact,” Jonah reassured her. “It was a nightmare, Iris.”
“No.” She shook her head, and the world spun. She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched at her head.
“Iris, it’s okay. It’s over. I’ll double- and triple-check everything. He couldn’t have been here, but if by some chance he was, I’ll find out, and I’ll make sure he can't come back. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Maybe you should lie down. Get some more rest.”
“No!” She looked up at him again, her panic rising. “Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me alone!”
He sighed. “Okay. Come with me.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. She wobbled and slumped against him.
“Iris, you can barely stand.”
“I’ll manage.”
He sighed again and scooped her up. “It’s okay. I’ll just carry you.”
She closed her eyes, too weak to even wrap her arms around his neck for stability. He didn’t speak as he carried her out onto the landing and up the spiral staircase. Another latch clicked, and he was setting her down. She clutched at the cold surface beneath her, afraid to move for fear her churning stomach would leap into her throat again.
“Drink this. It will help.”
Cool glass touched her lips. She tilted her head back at his coaxing, and a refreshing liquid flowed down her throat, soothing her throat and settling her stomach. He set the glass aside and combed his fingers through her hair.
“Sweet little Iris.”
Her heart froze in her chest.
That wasn’t Jonah’s voice.
She looked up in terror. He stretched and changed before her eyes, gaining a few inches in height, shrinking a few inches across the shoulders, facial shape restructuring, pale blue eyes deepening in color and hardening to match the frigid blue that haunted her nightmares. The last to change was his hair, platinum blonde darkening to a dirty blonde.
“You made it so easy, Iris.”
His hand left her hair to caress her cheek. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Her mind was screaming at her body, but it wouldn’t respond to her, and her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth.
“This goes better with the subject’s permission and trust.” He smirked, leaning in closer to her until she felt his breath on her face. “And you gave me both.”
He shoved her down onto the smooth, cold surface. The image of Father John lying lifeless on the church altar flashed through her mind, but no matter how hard she tried to move, her body was limp, unresponsive. He was positioning her like a doll, tightening leather straps down on her neck, her waist, her wrists, her ankles.
She tried to focus on the amulet, grasping at anything that could help, struggling to hear its whispers. They were slurred and distant.
She was alone.
Alone and isolated.
A tear slid down her cheek. The mage saw it and brushed it away with deceptive tenderness, and then he leaned in to speak into her ear, bracing himself with one hand on either side of her head. His breath was hot against her cold, clammy skin.
“I killed Jonah right here. His power was paltry, but I want it all, Iris. And when he told me about you, about your amulet…”
He smirked and dragged his fingers across her shoulder and down her chest to the amulet, picking it up and holding the clear glass stone where she could see it. His shadow cast a cloud of darkness over it.
“Even a weakling like him had his value, didn’t he?”
He chuckled and dropped the amulet again. It hit her chest with a thump like another drumbeat amidst the frantic pounding of her heart.
He’d killed Jonah. That was how he’d found out about her, why he’d come to Little Rest. He’d killed him. He’d killed Father John, and Kayla, and Fred, and Ginger, all to get at her. Little Rest was gone because of her. Everybody she knew and loved was gone. Because of her.
Almost everybody.
Char.
He didn’t know.
“You will survive this, Iris,” the mage continued. He’d left her field of vision, but his voice was clear and close. “There is far too much power within that amulet for me to extract in one session. The process is painful, but I assure you, it is much more painful if you resist. Keep that in mind for the future.”
He came back into her view again, holding a glass bottle above her with a fairy trapped inside. The little golden orb was darting around the glass, desperate to find an exit that didn’t exist.
Her heart twisted in her chest.
“And, of course, don’t forget about your new little friends. They’re my prisoners, too. As long as you behave, they are free to dote on you to their little hearts’ content, helping you recover from these… moments we’ll share.” He brushed his fingers across her arm, his touch warm, his eyes dead and cold. “But if you try anything foolish…”
A spark of blue shot from his finger into the glass jar. It chased the frightened fairy around and around, blue streaking after gold, a pursuit that could only end one way.
“No,” Iris managed to choke out. “Please—”
The blue struck the fairy. It dropped to the bottom of the jar, a blackened crisp, and a sob tore free from Iris’ constricted throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face.
The mage’s hand caressed her cheek again.
“I think we understand each other.” He trailed his fingers down her neck to her chest, picking up the amulet. “Shall we begin?”
Suddenly, her heart was on fire, her mind plunged into intense darkness. It was blacker than black, yanking her down into the abyss and closer to the flames. They tore through her veins, burning her from the inside out. She was screaming, writhing in pain, but they wouldn’t stop. Out away from her heart, back into her heart, across her skin, under her skin, consuming her from within and without.
She heard the whispers.
They were distant and faint, but she heard them, and she struggled to reach them, struggled to make out their words.
She couldn’t.
The flames dragged her back into their tortuous embrace. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. There was nothing. Nothing except pain.
Iris! Iris! Iris!
She heard her name through the roaring flames, urging her to keep fighting, to keep reaching. She tried again, grasping at the darkness for something beyond the pain, and the whispers reached for her. They wrapped her in their cool embrace, pulling her up and away.
She looked down at herself, writhing and screaming on the stone table, straining against the leather straps. The mage stood motionless above her, holding the amulet in his hand. A red glow emanated from between his fingers.
Red.
His magic was blue. Hers was white.
Why red?
Come, Iris.
The whispers beckoned her away, and she followed them up and out of the tower. The strange wintry landscape surrounding the tower was wrong, too. It was the middle of summer. The sky should be blue, not gray. There should be flowers in bloom, not blankets of white.
It’s time, Iris. Time for the crystal to go home.
How?How do I do that?
The whispers fell silent. She still felt the comfort of their embrace, though, and they held her still, up there in the sky, away from the gruesome scene down in the tower.
She looked to the west, to where Char had disappeared yesterday. He didn’t know. He’d thought he was helping her, but he’d handed her to the king’s mage. And he’d said he would come back to visit.
He couldn’t come back. He’d be in danger if he did.
But she couldn’t stop him. She had no way of telling him.
There was nothing she could do. For him, or for herself. It was hopeless.
It’s over, Iris.
The whispers led her back into the tower, back to her body, where the pain hit her hard. She gasped for breath, sweat drenching her nightgown, making the fabric cling to her burning, aching, throbbing skin. Everything hurt. The amulet hitting her chest when the mage dropped it was a punch to her heart. His pat on her cheek was a stinging slap.
“One hour. You are a strong little thing. Jonah didn’t last thirty minutes.”
He loosed the straps and lifted her into his arms. She was fading in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep her eyes open. Her cheek fell sideways onto his chest. He chuckled.
“Stay with me, Iris, just a little longer. I’m afraid I have to leave you to return to the war. The fairies will take good care of you, of course, and I’m sure you’ll be careful to keep your pretty little mouth shut if your friend Char comes to visit, won’t you?”
It was hard to stay awake, hard to follow his words. He was carrying her out of the room and down the stairs, and she was trying to understand, but the slightest motion felt like a knife ripping open her skin.
He wouldn’t stop Char from visiting. That was why he’d warned her about the fairies. She was supposed to pretend everything was alright. If she didn’t, he would kill them. All of them. Including Char.
He opened the door to her room, and another few painful steps later, he laid her on the bed. The soft sheets felt as rough as briars.
“It’s almost a shame,” he mused, sitting next to her and caressing her cheek. “Your appeal extends beyond your magical ability. If you survive this, I may have to investigate that aspect of you.”
He leaned in and kissed her. She hated it, hated the deception in those soft, warm lips that burned like an open flame, the false tenderness in his touch that felt like a strike, but she couldn’t stop him.
He smirked and patted her cheek again. “Till I return.” Then he stood and snapped his fingers, the sound echoing through her head. “And she’d better be in good condition when I do.”
Then his booted footsteps crossed the floor, the latch closed behind him, and trembling bits of warmth surrounded her as she finally let the darkness take her.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJhQEObKSSL
