A series of deep and textured slashes mar her skin, streaking and crisscrossing down her back and lower past where the blankets cover.
They’re all healed well enough I can tell its been a good many years since they occurred.
But there are so fucking many of them.
Like she was beaten—whipped brutally time and time again.
“What thefuck?” My rage erupts so abruptly I’m forced to close my hand into a fist to quell the surge of magic. Her body tenses and she sucks in a sharp inhale, squeezing her arms even tighter around her head. “Why?” I ask, aghast with shock. “Why did they do this to you?”
The words come out too harsh, too brutal but I can’t help it—I’mfucking pissed.She doesn’t breathe a word. Does she think I mean to judge her for whatever indiscretion she committed?”
“Sorry, I just mean…I don’t understand why they would do this to a princess…” Someone in her status should’ve been protected by such barbaric means of punishment.
I wanted to make sure she didn’t get reprimanded for what I did…
“Was this your father?” I already hated the insufferable nought king. Now my hatred burns with a blazing fury, setting its sights on the possibility of vengeance.
Silence.
I guess that is the one plus side about my being here. There’s no one around for you to question about my reputation.
Suddenly, her skittishness makes so much more sense in the context of this, and now…I feel like a massive asshole for not just being…gentler with her.
“Pandora.” Fury is still boiling in my blood and my voice is too sharp, too severe. She remains stiff as a statue except for the quick rise and fall of her shoulders. I lean down, speaking softer this time as I say, “Pandora.”
She reluctantly turns her head to face me, cheeks burning red and I hate that it’s because she’s ashamed.
“Is this why you have nightmares?” I whisper. She’s angrier than I expect. A cold, hard wall in her eyes.Nothing. “Do they do this…to everyone?”
Her face flames more vigorously. “You said…” she bites out. Her voice is accusing not with this—not with what’s happened to her but accusing ofme. It trembles slightly-- not with emotion withanger.
I said…
I said we didn’t have to talk about this.
Shit.
I push a breath out through my teeth as I straighten. I was supposed to assure her it was nothing to blink at and then I just…totally overreacted and confirmed that it was very much something to blink at. Whatever has happened to her she’s guarding it just as viciously as I guard my scar.
Andshe hadn’t inquired into my scar. Sure, she badgered me about what my glamour was and then asked as to why I kept it hidden but as soon as I said I don’t like discussing it she let it go and out of respect for me—hadn’t brought it up again.
For some reason those two perfectly parallel blazing fires glimmer in my mind, a symbol of our likeness.
No, I keep my scar hidden because of the shame it signifies and I know she can’t have anything to be ashamed of.
Does she think that whatever she did was deserving of this? Something in my gut says it's likely the case. I shake my head in annoyance. It was probably something totally menial. My fists clench and unclench, but I can’t untangle that from her psyche, can’t at all make sure she understands there’s nothing she could’ve done to be worthy of this if I’m not allowed to speak about it.
I can’t even assure her that it makes her no less beautiful. My eyes flit over the full shape of her, down to her waist and back up to the white waves spilling across the pillow. Sheisstill just as lovely.
I can’t speak it. Don’t even know if it would be appropriate to speak at this point.
“Are you going to mark me?” she snaps out.
Now, slicing at her back is literally the last thing I want to do. Not to mention my magic is still surging at my fingertips, bound to come bursting out with too much pressure.
“Can you give me just a moment?” I ask hoarsely. Without waiting for her answer I bound toward the door and slip back out into the living room. The magic surges out, not into anything in particular, just charging the air with the power. It chills the chambers like a sharp wind. I let it empty until my fingers steady, no longer pulsing with magic.
Not wanting to keep her waiting I promptly slip back into the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind me. Her head is now buried in her hands face down in the pillow. She removes them as I near, closing them into fists as she stretches them out above her head.
