Olethros

thirty nine - freyja

I walked up to the window nearest my vanity, midday sun pouring in. And there he was; my brother with his wings wide and carrying him as he hovered near my window. A sob shook me as my hand splayed across the invisible barrier built by my father's wards. I wanted to reach for him, to feel the jasmine wind on my skin. Gods, how I yearned to fly. I hadn't flown often in the past few years, and now seeing my brother, I wanted to join him beyond these walls.

Rhysand's face held a haunted look. His eyes shadowed by pain and his hollowed cheeks even more stark. Even in the golden sun, he looked more pale than ever before. He flew closer, one knee bending as he hovered.

"I'm sorry," he croaked again, this time out loud. I shook my head, fighting the tears though they won each time.

"It was I who ran away. I got myself into this. If I had just obeyed and followed his orders, this would've never happened," I responded. My voice broke so much, I wasn't sure if he understood me.

"I'd never seen him like that. He'd never gone that far," Rhysand spoke. His voice lost the tortured lilt to it, now replaced by an anger that I knew ran deep. I felt it, too.

"Well, it sounds like I won't have to worry about him much longer," I muttered. Rhysand's jaw hardened as his eyes fell to the cliffside, then up to the tower where we used to play as children on those rare occasions that he was home.

"I have no power in this. I can't stop it."

"I know that, and I don't expect you to," I answered. He frowned slightly, and then his head turned to his right. I watched his chest rise heavily as his wings beat down, curling inward and letting him rise slightly. And then, breaking my heart just a little more, Cassian and Azriel flew beside him.

I tried to look at all of them, but my eyes lingered on Azriel. He wore that mask I'd seen many times; one that looked utterly strange now that I'd seen him smile. His jaw set hard, eyes empty. To anyone, he looked as menacing as he always did, but to me, he looked as broken as I felt.

I saw the way his shadows curled around his ear and throat, wrapping around his wrists like shackles. I knew they were chanting to him about what had happened the day before. I knew he felt like it had been his fault.

"Hi, Freyja," Cassian said in a solemn voice, a sad smile tugging at his full lips. I tasted the tear that slid between my lips as I tried to smile at him.

"Hi, Cass."

"Azriel sent his shadows into Father's study earlier. He overheard that Aled has granted him access to the Spring Court this evening to join for supper. You and Mother are going with him, and you will be staying," Rhysand spoke suddenly, making my eyes snap to him.

Already? I'd only just been mutilated and punished, and I only have a few hours before I'm being sent away? I caught myself on the sill as I stumbled backwards. My brother shot forward, forgetting that he could not enter through the window. He grunted as he hit the ward, a tremor wracking his body as he dropped down to make himself eye level with me.

"I will find any excuse to come to you. I will be there so often, it'll be like you never left, alright? Yes, I'm friends with Tamlin, he would grant me a guest room there. I'll always be there, Freyja."

I didn't know what to say to him. We both knew that wouldn't be true. I'd be a wife in a family of males, he'd be the heir to the Night Court. He had duties and responsibilities that would keep him here. I was a physical representation of an agreement between two courts.

"That's okay, Rhys. We can write, can't we? I'll send you letters once a week," I said softly. He shook his head, gasping for a breath as though his chest was being crushed. Mine felt like it, too.

A heavy knock sounded at my bedroom door, making me jump. I turned in a panic to tell the three of them to go, but they'd heard it. They were already gone. I wiped at my cheeks as I turned to the opening door. My father stepped in, void of his whiskey and herb scent. There was a look to his eyes that had me suspecting that in his sobriety, there was a possible shame for what he had done.

Despite the chills running down my spine, I lifted my chin and met his gaze. I felt my chin tremble and my own shame flooded me.

"Freyja, you will be joining your mother and I for supper in the Spring Court tonight."

I nodded slowly, my mind begging for him to leave. I didn't want to be in his presence any longer.

"You will formally meet Tamlin, the youngest son, and you will remain there."

I already knew that, but hearing it from him made me stomach drop. I nodded again. I wanted him to leave so that I could cry once more.

"So, the servants will be in here soon. Begin packing your trunk. They know what they are instructed to do, you will do as they ask."

I nodded again. My throat was tight, my eyes burning.

My father looked me over once more before turning and shutting the door. I felt a chill across my skin, assuming it meant the ward that denied access to anyone other than him had been taken down.

I stumbled back, my rear hitting the corner of my bed. I let myself cry, because I honestly wasn't sure what would be next for me. Would I be treated as a prisoner in the Spring Court? Would I be respected? I didn't know. All I knew was that my brother was friendly with Tamlin, and I hoped that meant I shouldn't need to fear him.

I didn't know how long I cried, but I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I squeaked out a greeting, wiping at my face for the hundredth time today.

"Lady, your bath," a female murmured, bowing her head as she carried a pitcher of steaming water. I crossed my arms over my stomach as I watched several other females come rushing in, dumping water into the basin. I knew I wouldn't be left to bathe on my own, I could tell by the way the four females gathered around the tub. A fifth one came in, closing the door behind herself. In her hands was a small jar and thin pieces of canvas. My brows furrowed.

"Undress, please," the first female motioned at my gown from the day before. It felt shameful. My body was no longer one to be worshipped like Azriel had done. It was a travesty, and would be bared to strangers once again. I shook as I untied the gown and let it fall, followed by my undergarments.

The last female to enter dropped to her knees, the cloth around the jar falling to the floor and showing me a steamed white liquid within. I watched as she pulled the lid off quickly, letting it clatter to the floor. The other females began to crowd around me. I knew this wasn't right. None of this had ever happened for a bath before.

The kneeling female pulled out a whittled stick from a pocket on her apron, glancing up at me through her lashes before dipping it into the liquid. I watched as strings of wax fell back in and smoothed out on the surface of the jar as the female brought the stick to my leg. I gasped at the intense heat, another servant immediately gripping my shoulders.

She then flattened a strip of the canvas to my leg, and then tore. I shrieked, bringing my fist to my mouth to bite down on it. I'd never felt this before, and I never wanted to again. She tore the fine hairs from my legs again and again, instructing me to turn so she could do the backs.

My face burned with tears of shame. Yet another mutilation, no matter how noninvasive. But then, she instructed me to sit on the winged chair beside the basin. That wax found its way to the dark curls below my naval. I screamed with each tear, I sobbed as the females brought my knees up and apart to let her get every last hair. The memories of the day before were too fresh and the panic too severe. When my sex, rear, legs, and underarms were entirely smooth and raw, they instructed me to bathe and pat an oil on the tender skin.

I wished I'd drowned myself in that bath.