April 23, 1299

Seaport

Vivyka stepped away as he came toward her, until her back hit the wall in the dark alley. She looked around, wondering if she could run—she might be faster than he was, she wasn’t sure. It was late, and the streets were deserted. Everyone was either home or drinking in a tavern—not that screaming would do her any good, even if someone heard her.

“If there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s follow me.” Mathias’s voice was deadly calm. She might not have known he was angry if it weren't for the look in his icy blue eyes and the tight fist as his side.

“I’m sorry. I just…” She trailed off as he took another step closer. She trembled. She had seen him angry plenty of times, but this was different. This was much worse.

“You think you can just do whatever you want? You own me now? Think you can check up on me?”

“No, I—”

“Do you know what happens to people who see too much, Vivyka?”

Her stomach dropped. She shook her head as fear ran cold through her veins.

“Do you even realize who I am?”

She nodded. She had seen the birthmark on his wrist. He had taken off his wristband when he had gone after that poor man, the one he had tortured to death. “A servant of Malluk,” she answered.

“Oh, I’m much more than that,” he told her, his voice more of a hiss now. “I’m Kieran’s son, The Heir, the one person on Kelstone you really don’t want to fuck with.” He studied her for a moment. “You do know who Kieran is, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “She killed my parents when she burnt down Hilltop Village.”

He huffed a short laugh. “Be glad. Most people didn’t get such a quick death from her… nor do they from me.”

“Are… are you going to…” She was having trouble breathing as fear choked her. “Kill me?” she finished in a whisper. “After everything…” She touched his chest and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry. I swear it’ll never happen again.”

“No, it won’t happen again,” he sneered. “Ever.”

“Mathias, please…” she cried. The tears only infuriated him more, but she couldn’t help it.

Suddenly his hand was gripping her throat, and he slammed her back against the wall. He let go only to backhand her. She fell to the ground and he glowered down at her. “You just had to follow me, didn’t you?” he growled. He kicked her as she tried to get up, then bent, and grabbed her hair. He jerked her to her feet and hit her again. “Couldn’t just do what you’re told!” he yelled. She had never heard him actually yell before. He took hold of her throat again and held her in place. His eyes were blazing now—he was more furious than she had ever seen him before. “Why?” he demanded.

She flinched in pain. “I… I thought you were… with another woman.”

“Why the hell would I leave for that?” he asked incredulously. “If I wanted someone else, I wouldn’t give a shit if you knew.” He moved his hands to her shoulders, then slid down to her breasts and squeezed. “I wanted you. But then you had to go and do shit like that!”

“I’m sorry,” she told him again. “I was stupid, I know better now.”

“Shut up!” he thundered.

He found the hem of her red leather skirt and tore it up the middle. He undid his pants, then took hold of her waist and lifted her. His fingers dug into her flesh painfully, and she cried out as he slammed her hard against the wall. He was rougher than ever before, and for the first time, she found no pleasure in the experience—there was too much pain. This time it wasn’t just about his desire—it was about punishing her.

And when he was finished, he didn’t take out a cigarette and calm down as he always did; he hit her instead, and when she fell to the ground, he kicked her ribs hard enough to throw her a few feet. He redid his pants and kicked her again. “Get up,” he growled. When she did, he immediately hit her with the back of his fist. He continued to beat her for a while, then finally pulled her up by her hair and threw her hard against a couple of trash cans. They were knocked out of the way with the force of the impact, and she hit the wall behind them.

She cried more as her body throbbed in pain. She stayed down this time, even though he took a step toward her. “Please…” she whispered brokenly. “I’m sorry… please stop.” She looked up at him with dark, terrified eyes and a bloody mouth. “Please…” she begged desperately. “I’ll be better… I promise.”

He bent and took a dagger from his boot. She gulped and held her breath as he took another step closer. He brought the dagger near her throat and held her gaze. He just stared at her for a long moment, and her whole body felt frozen with fear. He slid the side of the blade along her cheek and lips, smearing the dagger with her blood.

Then, finally, he put it away. He stepped back and lit a cigarette. It was over. He had never intended to kill her—just to scare her, to teach her a lesson. She felt intense relief wash over her.

She stayed where she was while he smoked his cigarette. When he flicked it at her, she brushed it off and, though it hurt, she forced herself to stand and go to him. He watched her come with a contemptuous glare. Then when she reached out to him, just as she was about to touch him, he turned his back on her and walked away.

That hurt the most. She sank to the ground and sobbed. Some tears came from the physical pain, some from her breaking heart. This was it. It was over. She knew she needed to leave, to get out of this city and far away from him. But she felt despair at having to let him go. Regardless of who he was, regardless of anything, she didn’t want to leave him. She loved him. But she hated him, too, and she needed to focus on that now. It was over.

She looked in the direction of the nearby stairway leading up to his apartment. All she could see of him was the end of his cigarette on the dark balcony. He was watching her. What would he do if she just went, if she left right now? He had walked away from her. What did that mean? He had never done that before. Was he finished with her? After ten months, had he finally gotten tired of dealing with her?

Did it matter?

She pushed herself up off the ground and cried out softly as pain shot through her ribs. She forced herself to stand and wrapped an arm around her middle, then hesitated. She was scared of leaving, but she was just as scared of staying. If he followed, she reasoned, she could just tell him that she had thought he wanted her to go. It was true enough—she wasn’t sure he that actually wanted her to come back to him this time.

She took a deep breath and grimaced at the pain it caused, making her pant for a moment until it eased a little. Finally, she pulled her skirt around so that the tear was to the side instead of at the front, then walked as steadily as she could out of the alley.

She felt sick with fear as she turned the corner; even worse when she had made it a block up the street. She kept looking back over her shoulder, expecting to see him coming for her like a monster in a nightmare. But she had to admit that Mathias was worse than any nightmare she had ever had—and regardless of all the days that had been like a dream, it was time to wake up.

She walked for most of the night, then hitched a ride with a merchant in the morning. Thankfully, he let her stay silent and even sleep for a little while, though the occasional jostling of the wagon shot pain through her, so she didn’t sleep much.

When she got to Chendal, she headed to Aryst’s temple. She really didn’t want Sera to see and feel her like this, but she couldn’t stand to go any further—the pain was too much.

As soon as Vivyka saw Sera’s sweet face—her big, blue eyes filled with love and worry—she broke down. She sank to her knees, onto the white marble floor of the temple, and started sobbing.

Sera hurried to her, and when she was close enough to feel all her friend’s emotions, she cried, too. She knelt down beside Vivyka and wrapped her arms around her. Then she gasped when she felt the damage and pulled back. She held Vivyka's face in her hands and chanted under her breath. After a couple of minutes, the physical pain melted away, leaving just the anguish in her heart—but there was nothing a healer could do for that.

Vivyka took a deep breath, reining in her tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Sera took her hand in her own incredibly soft one and helped her to her feet, then led her through the bright temple. When they were in her room upstairs, they both sat on the bed. Sera kept holding her hand.

“What happened?”

Vivyka shook her head. Sera was already feeling all of her emotions, but at least she wouldn’t know the cause. Vivyka would never tell her—someone like Sera should never have to know such things. Thankfully, Sera didn’t press her to talk; she just lifted Vivyka’s hand and kissed it gently.

It felt like it had been years since Vivyka had been around anyone who loved her. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be really cared about, what it was like for someone to be gentle and kind. She started sobbing again as she leaned into her friend.

Sera shifted and guided Vivyka so that they were both lying down. She stayed there, holding her, crying with her, and stroking her hair softly, for a long time. “It’ll be okay,” Sera whispered a few times. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Vivyka must have cried herself to sleep, because when she opened her eyes again, it was morning. She rolled over and found Sera sitting on a nearby chair, embroidering something.

Sera smiled warmly and showed her what she was doing. “It’s a patch for Tess’s quilt,” she said lightly. “See? That’s Jorge, then the hydra he fought will go here, and the woman he rescued here.” She pointed. “It goes with the novel Ayden bought her for her birthday.”

Vivyka nodded and smiled. “It’s so good to see you again,” she told her earnestly. “I really missed you. I’m sorry I barely wrote or—”

“Shhh, don’t worry about it. It’s all okay now,” Sera said with a reassuring smile. “And I missed you, too. So has Julia—she’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Vivyka took a deep breath and nodded again. “I don’t wanna tell her what happened. I just wanna say I was homesick, which is true enough. I just don’t want her to know… I don’t want anyone to know.”

“I won’t say anything,” Sera promised easily. “But you can talk to me about it if you want.”

“Sorry, but I don’t wanna talk about it. Ever.”

“Okay. Well, if you change your mind, I’m here to listen.”

“Thanks.”

Sera set her embroidery down. “I’ll be right back.”

Vivyka nodded and watched her friend leave. Well… she had made it, she thought as she sighed and snuggled into the soft white pillow beneath her. She had gotten away from him, and it was over. She told herself that she should feel happy about that, but her chest ached with longing and sadness. She closed her eyes and saw his beautiful face, his smile, and that look he often gave her that said she was the best, that she was his, that he wanted her more than he wanted anyone else. Tears filled her eyes as she thought of how she would never see that look again.

She let out another sigh and forced herself to think of the bad things. She also thought of what his mother had done to her family, but then, she couldn’t hate Mathias for that; he would have only been about five years old at the time. But she could hate him for torturing that man, and for his treatment of her. She thought of his furious eyes and the pain he had brought. She felt her hatred for him and fed that flame, willing it to wipe out the love. She even said a silent prayer to Aryst, though she was never one for praying.

Just let me forget him, she thought. Please… help me let him go.

Sera came back a few minutes later with a tray, pushing the lantern back on the bedside table so she could set it down. “Some tea and apple pie,” she told her with a bright smile. “I just made the pie this morning, so it’s still warm.”

Vivyka sat up, wiped the tears from her face, and then hugged her friend. She focused on the good things, like Sera and the people who loved her. She focused on how good it felt to be able to hold someone again.

"Thank you.”

__________

Vivyka left that day, just wanting to get back to Brunya City, to go home. Sera insisted on going with her and then staying for a couple of weeks until things got back to some kind of normal.

Julia was thrilled that Vivyka was back, and surprised her a few days after she arrived by leading her to the storage room on the second floor of the orphanage. When Vivyka opened the door, she found it had been turned into a bedroom. Julia had cleaned out the boxes and, much to Falcon’s annoyance, brought them home. He had said that work wasn’t supposed to come home, but had quickly agreed to the exception when he found out it was for Vivyka.

It was a tiny room, but Vivyka was incredibly touched and happy to have it. Julia told her that she wanted her to have her own space and privacy, with the hope that she would stay. Vivyka easily promised that she would. She never wanted to leave again.

She wasn’t technically supposed to live at the orphanage anymore, now that she was almost seventeen and an adult, but Julia just made her an employee and put down room and board instead of a wage. The place couldn’t really afford to pay her anyway, though Julia still insisted on giving her what she could, to make sure she had enough clothes and was able to go out sometimes.

Vivyka missed Mathias for a long time. When it got too bad, she would make herself remember every mean thing he had done, and let her hate for him become the dominant emotion. But, once in a while, she would dream of him and wake up wishing he would be lying beside her.

Eventually she started sleeping around, since she wanted someone and needed the attention, but was unwilling to date. Most weekends she would have a glass of whiskey at the tavern, find a good-looking guy, get what she wanted, and then forget about him. She always made sure she was the one in control, promising herself that she would never again be someone's possession.