From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Cassian

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I wake up drenched in cold sweat, the memories of my nightmare drilling into my mind. It had been years since I last dreamed of the origin of my blackened heart, but I suppose recent events have forced my mind to summon memories from the past. Beneath my skin, I can still feel the my blood at the contact of that human’s mouth on mine.

roar of

I get out of bed, slip on a shirt I don’t bother to button, and pull on a pair of pants. I don’t need to ask myself where my feet are taking me as soon as one steps outside my room. I walk with purpose to the castle’s main library–nothing like that small, dusty one on the lower floors that the fire salamander has claimed as its home. I push open the heavy doors, still damp with sweat down my back.

I take a step forward, savoring the rare sensation of not being the most imposing thing in the room. The shelves filled with books, their spines flecked with color, stretch farther than the eye can see. The ceilings are incredibly high–so high, enormous ladders and great courage are required to reach the books that rest up there. However, it’s not this room’s beauty that I came looking for. I keep walking until I stand before two massive portraits of the people who gave me life.

It doesn’t matter how many times I stand here; every time I look at them, I realize my mind has already started forgetting the details of their faces -like the color of my mother’s eyes, the exact shade of blue in my father’s irises, or how remarkably black was the waterfall of curls of the woman who bore me. But these portraits can’t give me back details already lost across the years they’ve been dead. I can no longer recall how my mother’s voice sounded when she called my name, nor the tone of her laughter when my father complimented her and her cheeks flushed. I clench until the skin on my knuckles stretches taut. The hatred waters me again, refusing to let me forget anything.

my fists

“Love made you weak,” I say, knowing no one hears me. “That won’t happen to me. I won’t let anyone turn me into a fool.”

Among my kind, they sometimes whisper the story of my parents as if it were a tragic play penned by some dramatist. The problem is that it’s not some fiction born from a scholar’s mind, but the real story of two people who loved each other so much–had so much love to give–that they were

unable to live without the other.

Before my thoughts drag me into that dark pit I sometimes struggle to escape, I turn my back on them. As if doing so could dull the pain. Still, don’t leave. I sit on one of the armchairs not far from a liquor cabinet. It’s almost as if someone on the staff knows I escape here more often than I’d like to admit, to remind myself that I must be as harmful as ice held too long in the hand.

I pour two fingers of alcohol mixed with blood and let it burn my throat. I close my eyes, trying to empty my mind, but footsteps stop me. I know who it is–no one else would dare come here. Or perhaps that fierce human would find the guts to do so, though I hope she’s too busy tormenting herself over what happened earlier.

“Can’t sleep either?”

I take a sip before responding.

“Let me guess, is a woman the reason for your insomnia?”

“Just as she is for yours, my friend.”

I click my tongue and wave my hand dismissively. I cross one leg over the other, getting comfortable. Drystan, hands behind his back–a pose I’ve seen more times than I can count–s

-steps further into the room and takes the seat across from mine.

“Want to tell me what happened earlier? You’ve seemed unsettled since then.”

“It’s all in your imagination.”

He arches an eyebrow at me and holds my gaze for a long moment, as if waiting for my resolve to break. He sighs, pats his thighs, and stands, ready to leave me alone. I don’t know why I give in now, when I’d almost managed to be alone again. Maybe it’s just that–I don’t want to be alone while guilt and remorse gnaw at my thoughts.

“I kissed her.”

“You kissed her?” he repeats, incredulous.

“I guess it was something in the moment.”

“Something in the moment…”

I lift my eyes, tired.

“Do you not know how to do anything besides repeat what I say?”

He shakes his head like he needs to snap out of a trance. He sits again in front of me and clasps his fingers under his chin.

“Even though I’m at a loss for words, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised.” He clears his throat. “It’s as if Elara was made for you, Cassian. She’s what you need–I’ve never seen you more alive. And I understand your reasons for hating her. I know what she is, what she represents to you. But maybe

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Chapter 55

it’s time you stop clinging so tightly to your hatred. It might be good for you.”

“She’s not good for me.” I finish my drink and slam the glass on the table. “On the contrary, my hatred doesn’t hurt me. I have to put an end to her as soon as possible. I’ve let this go on too long.”

“And why do you think that is?”

Our eyes lock, defiant.

“You don’t want to hurt her, Cassian. You know she’s innocent. She’s not what others were.”

“Humans aren’t different from one another. They’re selfish creatures.”

“So are we.”

“Whose side are you on, mine or hers?” I snap.

“I’m always on your side.” He stands and places a hand on my shoulder. “That’s why I’m telling you this, friend. You need to let go of the past and face the present.”

“I face the present every day.”

You think you do.”

I let out a breath through clenched teeth. I shrug off his hand from my shoulder. He laughs–a sound that makes every nerve in my body prickle with the urge to fight.

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