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surprise! posting a little early this week. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Chapter Three 

Milena

I barely feel the cold stone, barely feel the impact as I sink to my knees.

My home, everything I’ve ever known, is up in flames. Parts of the building are brick, so it is standing, but everything else is… gone. It’s all gone.

I suddenly realize that my parents might have been inside and might not have gotten out, and scramble to my feet, sprinting toward the burning building. The smoke in the air burns my lungs, stings my eyes.

Someone grabs my arm before I get too far, and I turn to see Rean, his face frantic, violet eyes wide.

“Mila, you can’t go in there,” he tells me.

“My parents might be in there!”

He looks behind my shoulder. “No,” he says, “they’re not.” He points to the building across the street from the bakery, where a group  of fae are gathered around a pair of stretchers.

I hadn’t even noticed all the other fae here. Those with water manipulation abilities are putting out the flames, while healers tend to the victims–my parents.

I’m at the stretchers in an instant, hardly seeing anything through the tears that won’t stop flowing. Someone pulls a sheet over one of the forms on the stretchers–my mother, I recognize–and I frantically try to stop them. “Stop,” I scream, “that’s my mum!”

“Mila,” I hear a voice rasp.

I turn to him. “Papa.” His skin is burned so bad I hardly recognize him. “Papa, what happened?” I kneel by the stretcher, careful to stay out of the way of the healer. I’m afraid I’ll cause him more pain if I touch him, though I desperately want to hug him.

“Em…” he’s trying to tell me, but he’s fading.

“Papa, it’s ok. I love you.”

“Emrick Maddox,” he manages.

What does that mean? Is it a person?

“Is that who did this?” I’m so confused.

My father doesn’t answer. His eyes are closed, and while his chest is still moving, it’s slowing down. He’s dying. I take his hand now, and hold it to my heart. “I love you,” I whisper.

His chest stops moving. I scream.

____________

Distantly, I hear Rean speaking to me. I still clutch my father’s hand in mine, unable to leave his side. I half feel Rean rubbing circles on my back, kneeling on the stone street next to me.

“… back to the House of Wind.” I catch the last part of whatever he just said to me, and I’m pulled back out of my thoughts.

“What?” It comes out more of a croak than an actual word.

“I said, we should get you back to the House of Wind.” His voice is soft, soothing. Pitying.

“I don’t want to leave them.” My voice is barely more than a whisper.

I look at him now and see him fighting back tears as well. “They’re not here, Mila.” He pulls me against his chest and I realize I’m shaking. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my hair.

Rean stands and lifts me into his arms, and I bury my face in his neck. I want this all to go away, for it to be just me and Rean and nothing else.

____________

Rean flew us back to the House of Wind and set me up in one of its many rooms. He told me this one was right next to his, so if I need anything, all I have to do is tug the bond. The bond.

Call me a terrible person, a terrible daughter, but right now, Rean is the only thing I want to think about.

He’s my mate.

I have a mate.

And my parents aren’t here to know it.

Was it really just hours ago that I stood in my living room with both of my parents, instead of lying in an unknown bed, unable to sleep? Was it hours ago that my mother fixed my hair and laced my gown, and my father twirled me around and taught me how to waltz? It feels like a lifetime, like time is moving too fast and two slow all at once.

After hours of laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, I fall into a fitful sleep.

____________

I wake with a jolt, an urgent thought echoing through my mind–some fragment from my dream.

Remember whose you are, Buttercup.

My mother’s final words to me.

Just as I was leaving for the House of Wind, she had taken my arm and said those words. 

Remember whose you are.

It’s as if she knew what would happen, but I know that thought is ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly have known. Could she?

It’s early morning now, and dim light streams through the curtains. I roll over and bury my face in my pillow.

If my mother had known what was going to happen, why wouldn’t she have tried to stop it?

A soft knock sounds at the door, and after a moment, it opens. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes.

“I brought you some clothes, and some other things you might need,” Rean whispers. “Sorry to wake you.”

I thank him, and he turns and leaves again, closing the door softly behind him.

Of course he would need to bring me new clothes. I don’t have any now–save for my gown. I don’t have anything anymore.

I throw the covers back pull myself out of bed to inspect what Rean left for me. There is a simple tunic and leggings, some underthings, and a couple toiletry items. The tunic is soft and a navy blue colour, embroidered with swirls of silver on the hem and collar–something I probably would have chosen for myself.

I put on the clothes and put the toiletry items in one of the drawers of the vanity by the closet door. I then hang my now dirty gown in the closet, almost wishing I could burn it. I don’t even want to look at it.

I take this chance to look around the rest of the room–something I didn’t do last night. The large bed I slept in is along the far wall from the door, right in the middle. There are twin nightstands and lamps on either side, and an abstract painting hangs above the headboard. The left wall has the vanity and closet, as well as a floor-length mirror. The right side of the room has a door leading to the balcony and a large window with flowing gauze curtains. The room is decorated in shades of yellow and blue–coincidentally my favourite colours.

My stomach growls quite loudly, and I decide I should probably go and find some food, only I would probably get lost very quickly in the House of Wind. I have no idea what part of the house I’m in, let alone where the kitchens are. There’s only one thing I can do.

Gently, I tug on the bond. It feels strange, but not uncomfortable. Like a string tied to my heart, which slackens when Rean is far away and tightens when he is near. I reach down the bond with my mind, finding my mate on the other side.

Are you alright, Milena? His voice echoes in my mind. I can sense his worry, too.

I’m just hungry.

Should I bring you food? Or do you want me to bring you to the kitchen?

Will anyone else be in the kitchen?

Not if you don’t want there to be.

The door opens as Rean arrives to escort me. He holds out his hand to me, and I gladly take it, savouring the feeling of his calluses against mine (It’s surprising how many calluses one can get from cutting cakes. Something about the way I press on the knife creates an especially bad one on the palm of my left hand).

Rean leads me down numerous hallways, and I try to memorize the route we take. It’s actually not as far away as I expected it to be, and I’m confident that I’ll be able to find it again. I’m going to have to learn where everything is since I’m probably going to be here for a while–I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go.

My parents both had no other family, and very few close friends. I know they had friends in the Spring Court, but it seems that when they came to Night, they mostly kept to themselves. I have a small group of friends, but I would rather live here with any of them anyway. I make a mental note to visit them soon, though, to let them know I’m alright. Well, relatively alright. Anyway, I want to tell them about Rean. Luna will likely lose her mind when I tell her–she’s been hoping I would find a partner for decades. Just look at me now, Luna! I have a mate and it’s Prince Rean!

I search the kitchen for something I can make, and settle on some bread and cheese. Rean hands me an apple, too.

Thinking about my friends makes me wonder when I’ll be meeting Rean’s. Everyone in Velaris knows about the legendary group–mostly Illyrians (half or pure blooded) and master warriors, as well as notorious trouble-makers. I don’t feel like I’m up to meeting them any time soon, but it’s something we can talk about. I’ll likely come across a few of them in the House of Wind, anyway–namely his twin, Corin. But even just thinking about having to socialize with anyone makes me feel anxious. I can honestly barely even handle being around Rean, and the only reason I can at all is because he’s my mate. There’s a certain level of comfort that he brings with him, an effect of the bond.

“You look lost in thought.” I almost jump at Rean’s voice. I guess I was pretty lost in myself.

“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep much.” He gives me a pitying look and I hate it. I just want things to be normal. “I’m fine.”

I finish up eating my small meal, and place the dishes I used in the sink. I turn back to Rean, who is waiting near the door. “Why don’t you show me around a bit?”

“Of course.” He smiles and holds out his arm for me to take. He leads me down a few more hallways, the late morning light streaming in through the windows. There are so many windows here, covered with billowing curtains. I know they must be using some sort of heating spell to keep this place so warm from its place up in the mountains. I know I haven’t even left the city, but it feels like another world in the House of Wind. It must be the sense of luxury that I’m not used to–my family wasn’t exactly poor but we were far from wealthy. My parents worked hard for and were proud of what we had, though. They had built their lives in Velaris from the ground up.

Rean stops in front of a door and pushes it open, revealing an enormous library. I can’t help but gasp at the sheer size of it and the shelves upon shelves of books inside. Back home, I had a single shelf that was bursting with all my favourite stories. Here, I could spend the rest of my life reading and not even read all the books. “Let’s stay here for a while.”

“As you wish,” he chuckles. I follow him inside and waste no time browsing the stacks of books. Rean seems to have already chosen a novel, and now sits in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He doesn’t open his book yet, though. He watches me from where he sits with a glint of admiration in his violet eyes. I shy away and return my focus to the books around me, which are overwhelming in their variety.

“What kind of books do you like to read?” Rean asks.

“Oh, all types of books. I’ll read anything.” I select a large book that catches my eye. “I do have a soft spot for romance, though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Book in hand, I make my way back to Rean and sit in the armchair across from him.

“That’s an amazing book,” he says, nodding to the book I chose. “We’ll have to discuss it when you finish. There’s one part that Corin and I can never agree on the significance of.”

“We’ll have our own little book club,” I remark, opening my book.

He chuckles in response, but we both fall into silence as we read. We stay this way until well after lunch time, only stopping when we get too hungry to wait to eat any longer. We eat alone in the kitchen again, and when we’re finished, Rean suggests we go out in the garden.

“Can we take our books with us? I’m finding mine so interesting, I can hardly bear to put it down.”

“I knew you would love it. When you’re finished with it, I have some books that you might also enjoy.” The books appear in his hand–magicked here from the library. “I’d say our book club is off to a good start.”

In the garden, we sit in the grass under an enormous wisteria tree. His shoulder and thigh are pressed against mine, the contact feeling strangely intimate. We spend the rest afternoon as we spent the morning–reading together in a comfortable silence. The next day, we do the same, occasionally breaking from our reading to chat over a cup of tea. We spend four days with this routine, and in that time, we both speed through two large books each.

As much as it hurts to admit, I don’t think I’ve been this at peace in months.