The Truth-Teller Of Estrella

Chapter 13. A Surge of Moving Portraits

Away. Aleta needed to get away from these people — Empress Drika's nephew, her spy, and her hired swordsman. She had allowed herself to forget, to play pretend, and to act as if she was not here by force. What did she think would happen when they returned to Estrella with Drika's ring? She would be imprisoned, forced into the palace walls again, and she had no idea what the Empress had in store for her powers and future.

By the time Aleta reached the shore her vision was blurred from tears and distorted by the falling rain. She flew off Dani, taking to the beach on foot. Behind, she could hear him following.

"Leave me alone!" She called out, her words barely recognizable against the elements.

Aleta felt defeated. Her friend, her only friend, that she had spent nights confiding to, that she had grown fond of and loved — was someone else entirely. That was not the woman she knew in the doorway. How could she lie all that time? How could she keep that information from her?

Samir's steps grew louder, but there was nowhere to go. Aleta looked around, the roaring ocean ahead of her, and back, to the man approaching. She unsheathed her newly gifted broadsword from her back, rubbing the mixture of salty tears and sea water from her face.

"Is this how you want to deal with this?" Samir asked, his figure becoming clearer. The tone of his voice was direct. He was irritated.

Aleta didn't respond.

She watched, her eyes burning through him, as he ran a hand through his hair. The frayed strands joined the others in unison.

"Good gods, sorceress." He huffed, noting her frantic breathing and wild darkened eyes, "Fine." If this was how she wanted to deal with this, if this was what she wanted to do, he would oblige... but she wouldn't be happy with the outcome.

Aleta swung.

The night on the palace bridge was different — Aleta was strategic and her head was clear. Although she was desperate, she knew why she was fighting. She had wanted to get out, to escape. But on the shore, the pounding of the waves crashing behind her, and as the tears continued to stream down her face, she felt different. Her fighting was different. The sound of steel against steel rang harder and her moves felt wild and feral. Each thrust against Samir bounced back, his energy and force matching hers in a way unlike when they trained. She screamed, a blood-curling wretched scream that formed from the center of her core, scratchy and untamed. And unlike before, Samir's face was flat, no hint of pleasure or a witty remark in sight. Aleta searched for the glint in his eyes that always seemed present, a sparkle that often shone where the mark met his iris. It was not in attendance. Aleta evaded a blow, climbing her way up the formation of rocks to her side, her footing unsteady and erratic.

"Let me go!" She roared once more, her voice commanding in a way she did not recognize as her own. "Let me go!" She repeated.

"Is that it?" Samir called out. "Is that all that you want?" He stopped the swinging of his sword, dropping the steel to the ground with a vibrating thud. The sound echoed through the space — so thunderous the gods must have heard it. Fine.

Aleta froze, taking a step back and up into the rocks once more, but her right foot snagged. A jolt of pain drew up her body as she landed on the ground and she squirmed as Samir leaned over to her. That was it, her last chance of freedom. She screamed. Was it over?

Curiously, instead of the force she had expected to be met with, Samir only bent down beside her. He extended a hand, reaching for her foot that was still positioned, trapped between the rocks. A throbbing ache pulsed beneath her boot.

"What are you doing?" Aleta questioned as she attempted to pull the foot back, her voice stifled with sobs.

"Shut up," He huffed. "For once, just-"