Horrible Terrible Things

Chapter Twenty-Two

The palace was quiet and I was left with my thoughts as I ascended the half-dozen flights of stairs up to my room. My mind was an abyss of dark, cold rage, my thoughts loud and rattling inside my skull. I had to ball my hands into fists to stop the power from pressing up against my skin to unleash.

But god did I want to unleash it.

As I took the last few steps up to my floor, exhaustion hit me and I couldn't think of anything else but sleep, maybe it was a better option though, to rid myself of everything that had happened the past forty-eight hours.

I hoped to sleep and escape all my poisonous thoughts of Loki, the nasty ones and the dirty ones too. To pretend there wasn't only a wall between us as I slept - stopping him from finishing what he started. To pretend that when I woke up everything might go back to normal, maybe luck would be on my side and Thor would allow me to escape back to the lighthouse for a while, maybe he might have Loki thrown out of the palace. I couldn't imagine he would want to throw me out, despite his embarrassment, really I should have run and left them to the world they were used to.

Though really I didn't want to run away and after the bombshell that Loki had dropped on me - that we were mates - I didn't want him running away either. I knew he would, eventually as he always did but now knowing the truth I'm not sure if it made it better or worse. So who was Loki protecting, himself or me?

As I stalked into my room, unpinning the circlet crown from my head and tossing it toward my bed I let out a surprised cry at the sight of Kit sitting on the edge of it.

The circlet missed the bed and dropped to the floor, the gold ringing out against the marble. Kit turned to me, first his eyes dropping to the circlet on the floor before lifting to me, his hands rested in his lap and he offered me a tight smile,

'I'm sorry. I can't seem to leave.'

I let out a long breath as the door slammed closed behind me and I started toward him. Kit stiffened on the bed, leaning back from me and I realised he was afraid. Of me. Of what I had done to him.

I averted my eyes, humiliated at myself that I had demanded he come to my room, that he was not there by choice. I gestured to the door, turning slightly from him, 'You can leave.'

Kit stood but didn't leave, instead, he stalked to the doors leading to the balcony and gestured me to follow. I did, swallowing back my questions and trying desperately to hide the blush creeping up my neck. What was this?

As if sensing my hesitation, as Kit opened the doors he shot me a tight smile over his shoulder, 'I've been in a cell for three weeks. I need some fresh air.'

'Right.' I answered not knowing what else to say for the sake of not getting my hopes up. My heart thundered as I followed Kit outside, the early morning light soft and gentle on my eyes. Maybe he just wanted to throw me off the balcony for all that I had done to him, both the enchantment and imprisonment. A small morbid part of me imagined greeting my death in the depths of the ocean that sparkled beneath the palace.

I took my place beside Kit, my eyes shifting from the ocean spread out before us and I could only watch as his hands grasped the bannister, his pretty eyes, settled upon the horizon in the distance and the soft golden orange of the sky.

Anxious to hear what he had to say to me, I spoke first,

'Kit-' I began but he turned to face me, his brows drawn together as his words were a rasp,

'I've sat in that cell and practised my speech, what I would say to you when I inevitably saw you again. I don't think I can say what I want to you without making an idiot of myself one way or the other.'