Heartfelt Sounds (21 page)
“You're his sparrow.” Ran spits. Dark eyes narrow as he glares. “A spy—she's brought you here to try and change his mind—to send reports back to Felicity on what he's doing out here. Ain't that right?”
I blink once. Twice. “Excuse me?”
Ran stomps. Moves from laying against the door frame, to standing tall before he leans towards me. Dark eyes are slits as he glares. “Yeah, you can always smell a spy. It's like your type doesn't bathe or something. Maybe ya'll all use the same perfume, huh?” and he backs away. Leans himself against the door frame again, but with his whole body pointed towards me. “What d'you say, Sparrow? Think you'll last a week here? A day?”
I avert my gaze as my brow furrows. As I frown sharply and clench my fists. “I have a name,” I tell him, meeting his gaze. Challenging him. “
Naia.
” I hiss, biting my lip. “In
civilized
places, we ask for introductions—,”
“I'm Ran,” the retainer grunts, shoving a hand towards me. “the guy whose kicking you out as soon as your buddy gets thrown out of
there.”
and he shoves a thumb towards the door at his back as I take his hand. As we shake.
“Ran—,” I nod, attempting a smile that warps into a grimace. “—I'll be sure to remember that.”
“Don't bother.” Ran smirks, his eyes becoming sleepy again as he stands. The bronze door is shoved open and he winks before he gives me his back. “
Diviner—,”
“Shut up, retainer. Lord Emyr bids you go back to your quarters—,” Calanthe's eyes glow as she offers a hand to me. I grasp it, smirking up into Ran's surprised face as his eyes widen.
“Lord Emyr?”
“The
new
Lord Emyr.” Calanthe sneers. Her gaze turns to me, then. She clears her throat before bringing her lips to my ear. She cups her hand over my cheek. Whispers: “
He wants you—alone for the night.”
When I attempt to jump back, she digs her talons into my skin—holding me there. Drawing blood.
“Do this and I will free Akane. I
swear
it.”
I press my lips into a line. I breathe as Ran hovers behind me—frozen. “You'll—you'll free her?”
Calanthe does not smile when she speaks. “I swear to you, Naia. I
swear
it.”
I sigh. I nod and she presses her dark nails into the flesh of my forearm before she pulls me into the room. The door wheezes behind me as it closes,
clicking
when it's closed completely with a sour blast of air. Silence pervades. The room is awash in dull auburn and lightly flickering candlelight as a humid smell assaults me. Makes me choke as I bring my free hand to my nose. Calanthe throws me a glare as the room comes into view. A heavy bed of dark oak holds a still body beneath cream colored bedding. To the right of the body sits a man hunched in a thick oaken chair. Straight black hair slithers down a broad back as the man moves to place a careful hand onto the face of the bed-ridden sleeper. Gracefully whittled patterns entwine in a complex dance of wooden symbols upon the end of the large bed frame, and Calanthe brings me there to stand. When she harshly clears her throat, the hunching man makes no move to acknowledge us. The sleeper's eyes are milky. Gray eyes bore a hole through my head and I watch as the man places a heavy palm upon the sleeper's open eyes. I watch him close them.
“Let us help you through your mourning, Lord Emyr—,”
His gaze snaps towards Calanthe's husky voice. Harsh eyes are sharp. Biting as they take me in. As they move to glare at Calanthe. “This!—
This
is Lord Emyr!” and he splays his hands towards the sleeping man beneath the covers—spittle flying from his lips. “Stop referring to me as if I were a dead man! What—what have you brought me?”
“I promised you a night—,”
I step back—I jump when he shoots from his chair. “My father's corpse is
barely
warm—I want
nothing
that was meant for him.”
Calanthe moves from behind me now. She crosses her arms as she approaches him. His height is emphasized when she leans against the large wooden column of the bed in front of me, her head barely coming to his chest and she's forced to look up. “This gift was meant for Lord Emyr—
any
Lord Emyr.”
The man sits with a huff. Lays his head upon the back of the curved chair as he stretches out his legs. “If this marshal trades in people, then he is not a man my father would accept
anything
from.”
“I—I've willingly come.” I blurt, my voice barely above a whisper.
I watch Calanthe's shoulders rise. “You are not your father, Sargon.”
Sargon laughs. It is an uncertain sound. An unhappy one. “No, no. I'm not. So you can stop
calling
me, 'Lord Emyr.'”
“The title rightly falls to you!”
I watch him turn his face away. I watch him breathe deeply, shoulders rising and falling. I bring my fingers to the stout lip of the bed frame as Calanthe brings her gaze over her shoulder. Serpentine eyes glare at me. She moves to uncross her arms and takes a couple of steps back. She comes behind me, fingers gripping my shoulders as she brings her lips to my ear.
“This is for Akane.”
she hisses.
“My little pet. Bring your thoughts to Akane.”
I attempt to turn towards her—to swat her fingers away from me—but instead I fall. White hot pain rockets through my lower back as her heel slams into my spine and I'm falling. My palms slap the floor as Sargon's chair screeches. As I'm kneeling and fingers prod at my back. Fingers prod and pull and slime their way down my skin as I freeze—as I hold my breath and let Calanthe do her work.
As my gown slips. Precious silk slithers down my shoulders in a cooling wave and I let it. I let it as my breath forces its way down my throat and I breathe unsteadily. Fingers work at my bra band—they rip at my underclothes and leave a trail of slime upon my skin. Air leaves me in explosive bursts and I'm naked. The silk gone—my undergarments a pile of knotted cloth upon the floor. The gown a puddle of purple silks as it surrounds me. As it protects me the best that it can.
Calanthe takes my neck as her voice explodes into my ears. “You could have
this—,”
She makes me stand as I hang my head—as my hands tremble at my sides. Slapping my skin—my knees weak and useless as they knock together. And I'm trying. I'm trying to bring my mind to Akane—an undead thing that's lurking at the fortress's gates. But I can't. I'm thinking of Hana and how I wish I would have spoken to her before I left. Make her remember me—see if Lore's words were simply lies. I wish I could have told her that she's forgiven—absolved of everything.
She tried—she tried to protect me.
Calanthe grasps my naked shoulder. Pulls at my hair and guides a strand down my shoulder and onto my chest. Her words are like ice: “She is
healthy.”
I gasp—I shudder when Calanthe's nails graze my side. Black talons gently walk down my shoulder. They slither down my waist—my hip. “Young. A virgin by all means.”
I cross my legs—willing this to be over. I shut my eyes tight.
“Calanthe—,”
I hear the man
hiss.
She chuckles—her voice smooth and deep. Her breath licking my ear as her hands travel farther downwards. As fingers pry at my naked thigh and I shiver—my face twists. My whimper is soundless—a breath.
You must do this.
For Akane. For Hana and Castle Tsubame.
You must do this.
Talons encroach upon my secret area. They pet me. I want to cry. I want to—
“There are no stipulations. Nothing additional. She is simply a
gift.”
Her fingers play and they're too close—too close to my privates and I do everything I can to avoid crying out. I avoid looking at my shame as I hang my head—as I focus on my breathing and my heart. But my heart's gone—it no longer beats and my breath catches in my throat. Makes a lump that chokes me and I whimper like a damned dog. Like a useless, pleading,
thing
.
In my ear, Calanthe's laughter is like the slender edge of a knife.
“Will you take her?”
Silence. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter. I move my head to the side.
“I don't like songstresses.” comes his reply. A deep voice that rings with an edge of warning.
“She could be anything for you—a concubine, a slave—,”
My eyes snap open when Calanthe pulls her hand up my body. It rests on my shoulder and I catch Sargon's gaze.
His face is a hard one. It is a mask of stone molded around eyes that don't quite fit. Eyes that spew emotion. That shine with pity.
Hana—Hana breaches my thoughts. Her tenderness blinding me. Her swear uttered in tears—
I will never let anyone take you away from me.
And she tried. She tried to protect me—to teach me. To save me from the hands of Lord Hinata and his nightingale. She
tried.
Hana tried to protect me.
And I turn my gaze over my shoulder.
But I'm learning.
I shrug myself from Calanthe's biting grip on my shoulders. Sargon shields his eyes. Looks away as he roars at Calanthe. But I'm bending to pick up my gown—I blink away tears. I blink away thoughts of how useless I am—as a tool. As Lore's plaything. I can't follow instructions—I can't do
this—
and I'm hugging the gown around myself as Calanthe
screams
into my ears. As she demands that I throw the gown to the ground—but I turn. I glare into her eyes before I rush towards the door. Panting. Hating myself because I couldn't do it. Because I couldn't follow instructions and be her tool.
But I'm learning.
I throw open the door and slam it behind myself. I press my back to it—panting—the gown barely covering me as I listen to their screams. To roaring voices screaming back and forth.
I sigh. The hallway is quiet. Spacious. Dark and full of ghosts.
I sprint.
The gown trails behind me as doors pass. As my slippers slap shiny floors and blues rush by me. When I make it to the stairwell, my face is wet and I'm drowning. Drowning in self hate as my run becomes a walk—becomes a standstill. I'm halfway down the stairs when I fall. When I sit. When I hug my knees to myself and let the tears come.
But I'm learning.
I think—I scream to myself as I bring my knees in closer. As I lay my forehead upon them and my gown slithers. Sliding down my shoulders—only to stop at my armpits. My back is naked—the ties broken. I feel sweat. My skin is clammy—cold.
My heart does not beat.
I heave then—the tears coming in full force. My sobs no longer quiet.
I let the tears truly come, then, because I'm learning—
I'm learning that I must protect myself.
I've almost fallen asleep when kind hands jerk me awake. They find my back.
“What have they done to you?” I tense when I recognize the voice.
But I can't bring myself to open my eyes. I press my lips together—not trusting myself to speak.
“It's—it's a
shame.”
soft fingers brush along my spine as the ties at my back are clumsily knotted. “Whenever that—
witch—
comes back, she's always got some poor girl with her. I swear—the next time I
see her—,”
“Nyx,” I murmur—her breath catches in her throat as I whimper. “they're all dead, Nyx. All of them.”
I hear her cough. I gasp when she pulls hard at the ties—almost ripping them from the dress. “I knew what would happen. I told her to come with me—but she wanted to stay. Wanted to stay for some
dumb
reason.”
“You said goodbye to me.”
I hear her sigh. It is long and breathy. Sorrowful. “I knew you'd survive—but I thought. I thought you wouldn't make it on the road. You were
sick.”
“You left us.” I tell her. My voice coming in short rasps. My eyes burning. “How did you end up here?”
Lore told me—told me you were
dead.
When my gown hugs me, the silk snug and whole once more, Nyx plops herself down near me. She splays her legs out beneath a heavy dress of thatched brown. Light brown stains spot an off-white apron that hugs her tiny waist. She brings her gaze to the ceiling as a long window gifts us with mottled moonlight. “Do you know what they do in there? The Lady Diviner and Lord Emyr—
deceased
Lord Emyr? She picked me up on the road—gave me food, clothes. I was dying, Naia. I was cold—hungry—highwaymen took everything I owned and then—the
soldiers—,”
I watch her shiver. I turn my gaze towards her as I lay my head upon my knees. “—I know how to handle a knife—a sword. I could've been okay. I could have made it to the Vale—but times have changed. Things have gotten tougher with this 'Dawnlord' whose set himself up in Felicity. Taking the east. Shaking things up. I could've been okay if all that nonsense wasn't going on—but it was. He comes and that's just an invitation for everyone to lose their damned minds—Calanthe—the
Lady Diviner—
saved my life. Saved me and—,” Nyx swallows. Lowers her face only to raise it again. I notice a scar rips through the right side of her pursed lips. Her eyes are frightened as they stare up. Clouded with fear. “—
did things.”
she adds with a whisper. “
What's that
bitch
done to you, Naia?”
I think to tell her everything. To tell her about the nightingale and Lord Hinata. To tell her how my heart—my heart is
gone—
and how that has made me a tool. I shake my head. I hide my gaze from her and close my eyes as I lay my head upon my knees. I open my mouth—but nothing comes. Silence covers all as I listen to my breathing. As I hear her wheeze. As I hear a door shut and she scrambles to standing as heels clack angrily down a faraway hall.
“That's her—that's her—
Naia! You need to get up!”
But I can't.
I'm a coward.
And I cower as the heels come closer. As a harsh whisper is murmured under a heavy breath that's panting. That's low and ragged and angry.
She stomps down the stairs—every
clack
of her heel is like a thunderclap as I jump. As I bring my knees closer into my chest and wish—wish for peace. Wish that I was back at Tsubame under Hana's protection. Wish—
