The Art of Courts and Lies (Book 1 in The Gifted Trilogy)

12- A Purpose

The knock to my door came hours later. By then I had taken a bath and thoroughly scrubbed all of the mud and dirt off of me and now I just sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the blank wall where, if this were a normal room, should have displayed a window. Another reminder that I was not a guest here, I was a prisoner.

    I couldn't find the energy to answer the visitor with even a simple 'go away' and instead traced the red marks on my skin, proof of the pain I had inflicted on myself earlier by scraping too hard while trying to get the dirt off.

    I could still feel the horrible curling under my skin, as if Nox was still there, still reading my every thought and taking pleasure in making me relive my worst memories. They came in lashes even now. The first time I'd broken a rib. The day Porter and I had realized that we could do nothing to stop the Gifted when they came into our village and took children from mothers, usually to work in their cities for barely a scrap of coin. When my mother poured that burning steel onto my left forearm.

    At the memory, I glanced back down at the terrible metal snaking up my arm. Because of it I had gotten the nickname 'snake lady' from the other boys in our village. The sight of the metal buried into my arm was enough to leave them gagging and running away from me. That was the only time I'd ever thought of the horrible steel as a blessing. I didn't need their attention fixed on me. The only one of them whose opinion mattered to me was Porter's, and he never looked at me with disgust. Not even when he first saw the metal snake.

    Porter. The thought of him caused me to let out a pathetic sob. Despite the horror his words had brought to me, nothing Nox had said had been false. If we had never decided to run away, if I had never let Porter's own terror of me being taken away from him triumph over my rationality, we would still be together; Tessa, Porter and I. We would be hungry of course, and dirty and exhausted, but we would all still be together.

    I had always shoved the thought of marriage to the back of my mind. There were far more important things to think about like survival and I would never abandon Tessa. Plus, the whole idea of suddenly becoming bound to another person, having them depend on you and you depend on them, was terrifying to me. But I knew that had the choice come, I would have chosen Porter.

    Porter, the only boy who had bothered trying to reassure me that I wasn't the monster I believed myself to be. The only one who laughed at my morbid jokes. The only one who feared for my life and at the slightest chance of being captured and turned into a prized pet, created a reckless and desperate plan to save me and my sister. To keep us safe.

    When his face suddenly appeared in front of me, I knew it was formulated by my own thoughts, not Nox's torturing. Nox would have never been able to get that slight scar on the bridge of his nose quite right. He would have never been able to capture Porter's essence of optimism and liveliness. He would have never been able to get his specific shade of brown captured in his eyes quite right. The kind that had never looked like dirt to me, but the rich soil that always brought in a good harvest for his family and mine. The kind that didn't resemble cow manure as he always insisted they did, but the rare block of heavenly chocolate we would save up all summer to buy at the end of the year, knowing it was worth it the moment that magnificent rich goodness melted on our tongues.

    I continue staring into those eyes that had become my favorite shade of brown until suddenly, they began to fissure and slowly turn into a different shade. A shade of amber.

    Only then did I realize that Kesserian was kneeling in front of me, having silently walked into my room while I continued to stare at the wall, unaware of his entrance. He said nothing as I continued to stare at him until the image of Porter completely faded away and I was left staring at the man to blame for taking me away from him.