And then I collapse.
Morin making a foolof me is one thing, but the Gods being in on the joke is what finally does me in.Firebrandedwith a fucking nought. I scoff. Very kind of them to break their centuries-long streak to bless me withthat. Hope they’re enjoying themselves as they watch me go down.
Not as if I don’t deserve it.
I wade through the Wood, wallowing in my self-pity. Not trekking so far that I can’t summon more wine in my glass.Not quite what you envisioned, is it Mom? Should’ve stuck around.
I don’t need it right now. I just want it. I dig the vial of ichor out and slash the symbol across my forearm. Blood beads around the ouroboros symbol and I clear it away.Just a drip. I tilt the vial, allowing a single drop to splatter against my skin right in the middle of the circular snake, eating itself.
Just as I am.
The inky black liquid is still for a single second before it spreads, searching. Drawn by my blood, it fills the slashes in my skin. I suck in a breath through my teeth, relishing the sting as it simmers into the symbol. The veins around the pattern blacken, and the trees around me blur, limbs stretching like sharp claws as blissful shivers sprout over my skin. The mark fades into a scratch within seconds, and the black of ichor is gone, pooling through my bloodstream.
But the bliss is ephemeral, and I continue swallowing wine to drown out my thoughts. When my wading becomes more like staggering, I eventually make my way back to my tent, swearing to myself that I’m not even going to look in the direction of where I’ve left the nought. My eyes defy me, veering over there of their own accord to find her sitting exactly where I’ve left her. A twinge of pity rises, and I quickly mash it down. Perhaps if I don’t come out to claim her, her father will take her back home to the Gods forsaken Wastelands, and we can forget this whole thing ever happened.
Throwing back the flap of fabric to my tent, I flop onto the bed, not even bothering to remove my boots and cloak. I’m not sure how long I’ve drifted off when the sound of voices pulls me from my slumber.
“Didn’t come to claim his bride.”
My eyes flash open. It’s fucking Valik. Withher. The nought. I pinch at the bridge of my nose. Maybe they’ll go away.
Please go away.
“You might have better luck if we get rid of this. Depending on what you look like under there.”
“Stop. It—it does not come off.”
Gods fuck it all straight to the Shades. I dash out of the tent to retrieve her, Valik’s words echoing in my head like a parting omen as I lead her back to the tent.She won’t last the week.The worst part is, if she comes to Samore, he’s likely right. Samore barely accepted my own mother, and she was only guilty of the horrendous crime of being common-born like them. They’ll never accept a nought.
The fuck am I even supposed to do with her?
It’s too much for my drunken state, so I put it aside to think about in the morning. I turn on my heel to admonish the nought for not at least making the effort to let out a life-preserving scream. Maybe then one of her soldiers could’ve saved her, and I wouldn’t be forced to bring her in here with me. I don’t get a word in before she starts to drop.
I barely catch her in time, her chains rattling noisily. She’s not heavy, at least. I toss her limp form onto the bed. Gods, she really does look exactly like the paintings depicting Hises, who tried to wipe Magi from the world altogether. If that isn’t a bad sign, I don’t know what is.
Stroking a hand over my jaw, I debate what the hell I should do. I could just leave her there and go to sleep? She’ll wake eventually and probably be disoriented. I don’t even know what’s wrong with her. Perhaps she’s in shock? Do people actually pass out from shock?
Maybe I should try to wake her up. I summon some water from one of the tables outside and splash it across her face. At least the only portion of her face visible to me…which happens to be mostly her eyes. In hindsight, it’s probably pretty rude to splash water across someone’s eyes. I grimace, but it seems to have worked as she stirs with a groan, her eyelids fluttering.
She opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling for one second, two seconds—three. She jolts upright, chest heaving, as she takes in her surroundings and me. I lean back against the dresser, crossing my arms behind my back and doing my best to appear small and non-menacing. Frankly, it’s an impossible task.
Wiping at her eyes, she stares at her glistening fingertips. “Water,” she croaks.
“Yes, I uh—I’m sorry about that, but it seems to have done the trick.”
She shakes her head, chains tinkling, gesturing in the direction of her face. “Water,” she repeats, her voice a quiet rasp.
“Water, yes,” I say, nodding my head. “I was trying to get you to wake up.”
She stares at me blankly. Is she dumb? Is there going to be some kind of weird language barrier between us? Wasn’t an issue with the other noughts I’ve had the displeasure of interacting with. The small space I can see of her below the golden bar that intersects her forehead wrinkles. Her eyes, a large, steely gray, dart around as if searching for something. She looksdistressed.
“Do you have water?” she rasps.
“Well, I summoned it from out there,” I say, pointing outside the tent. “Oh.” My lips part as it dawns on me. “Would you like some?”
She nods eagerly, her shoulders loosening. This time, I summon the entire pitcher and a couple of glasses. Her eyes are wide as the pitcher slips between the fabric and sweeps into my hands. I set it on the dresser and pour her a glass. “Sit,” I demand when she starts to get up. “I'd prefer not to have to catch you again.” I'm not really in the state for it either, seeing as I’m barely keeping myself upright.
I bring her the glass, and she wavers, sending me an uncertain glance before parting the chains that cover her face and draining the glass in eager gulps.That is…freakishly weird.
