FOR THE UNKNOWN KINGDOM | BOOK 1

CHAPTER 7

The pain was more intense than any other time before and I knew that it was probably going to get even worse after my attempt to walk. But I just couldn't stand still anymore. Dad had also come this evening to keep me company, but now that the night was officially here, he wasn't allowed to stay at the infirmary longer—likewise I couldn't stay in bed longer.

Biting my lips because of the pain that crushed all over my body, I was sure they were about to bleed. I didn't care. The only good thing was that I wasn't wearing that pale blue robe that had made me look like I might as well die in the next few hours. The short black dress my mother had brought me was just over my knees, which I appreciated for how comfortable it made me feel. But for now, I had to concentrate on how to manage the pain and take a few steps forward.

"What the—" I heard a male voice echoing from somewhere in the room and I lifted my head only to find Denfer standing a few feet away from me.

With his usual wet hair, he dashed to my side, forcing me to sit down again. I pushed him back.

"Don't tell me not to move," I hissed. His face remained blank of emotions as he wrapped a hand around my arm, urging me to sit down.

I didn't. "Please, Velian. It's not time to be stubborn and play mindless games with your health."

"I'll do as I please."

He blinked the frustration away, but still said, "So I'll do as I please, too."

Grabbing me by my shoulders again, he forced me to sit still on the bed. There was enough strength in his muscled arms to know that I'd been defeated.

His hands remained on my shoulders, though, for a little longer, as if he'd forgotten he was here, as if he'd mentally flown away. And the hand he moved down my arm wasn't the usual sensation of skin touching skin. I rolled my eyes over a shoulder to examine his right hand, which was cold and scratchy over my skin. I found it wrapped in bandages that were riddled with blood and dirt, their casual white color had turned to grey. He looked exactly like the night of the Summer Festival.

"I guess they pitted you and let you in," I said while pointing with a slow nod to his injured hand. His silent laughter was only heard by me and it was soon accompanied by my own.

As he dropped to his knees to examine the cast, he didn't say anything, which was unusual of him. As for me, I didn't have the chance to observe his eyes for one more time. He hadn't lifted his head to face me, not even once. But I was okay with that. So this time instead of complaining or demanding him to stop touching me, I closed my eyes and for a moment I wasn't just a traveler roaming around the darkness that dwelled in me, unable to do anything. Although the darkness hadn't completely faded away, I didn't care if it were here or not. Because that man with the wet purple hair was taking my physical pain away, providing me with the opportunity to just be present for a moment.

"Any better?" he whispered and without opening my eyes I nodded positively.

He quickly let go of my grip. The coldness of his hand had cooled down the warmth of my own. "Listen," I said, "I don't know who you are or what you're able to do, but if you can get me out of here, I'll be forever grateful. I don't care about the cost. What I care about is the result."

He grinned, a dark kind of grin that made him look like the Devil, and said, "What a traitor you are. Leaving your friends and family behind only for the sake of your own happiness . . . So egotistical."

I gave him the same look I'd given him when I'd decided to tear his drawing to shreds; the night I hadn't known what was about to happen only a few days later. If I'd known, I wouldn't have destroyed that piece of paper that seemed to enclose the meaning of Denfer's existence in it. I wouldn't have stayed inwards the following days, contemplating my life choices, either. Instead, I would have been training for the upcoming ballet lesson; I would have been dancing, stretching and preparing myself for the beginning of the academic year.

"Don't you ever dare call me a traitor again, only because I prefer to go away with a stranger than stay here, in this messed up country of equality and art, that wants me dead," I snarled and his facial characteristics seemed to soften as if I'd said the right words. I'd only spoken the truth.

Angling his head to the side as if he were ready to whisper to me some deadly secret, he said, "That's why you're a traitor."

And I was about to punch his injured hand if that would make him stop calling me that way, but he added, "I'm not complaining, though. You're exactly what the world needs."

With his eyes now focused on my leg, he tried to get rid of the cast. His movements were slow and careful, but I wasn't in pain. So I lifted his chin with a finger and said, "Go ahead before I decide to turn into a saint and stay in Lantra."

"Oh, now that would be a disaster," he answered, and I would have laughed if his hands hadn't been engulfed in a golden haze, emitting what it seemed to be sunlight. Laced with shock and surprise and fear, I made to stand up and walk away because I'd never witnessed something like that in my lifetime; I'd never witnessed the explosion of a magic that was controlled and steady and powerful and . . . safe.

My stomach tumbled at the thought that maybe the kingdom he'd been talking about actually existed, that maybe he hadn't been bluffing. As the light became brighter and penetrated the cast, his face became paler, as if his energy had been snatched from his grasp the moment he'd starting using that kind of magic.

But it didn't matter. Because the cast was now off my leg and his hands were back to their normal color, not knotted in those golden sparkles. I tried to shake my leg, but he kept it unmoved. "Don't do that," he said, his expression cold. "The pain may have gone away, but the fracture may get worse if we don't take care of it."

"I didn't know how your healing abilities worked," I replied, glancing to the door that was flung open, surprised that no one had spotted us yet.

He offered me a little pat on the back as he rose to his feet again and helped me use the crunches.

"Do you want to try one more time?" he asked, "But if you want my humble opinion, we will only end up wasting valuable time."

I knew he was right.

So I offered him a grimace of disappointment and he nodded like he understood.

"We'll use a back door I came across yesterday and hope for the best. Are you up for it?" His voice was low. I wasn't even sure if I'd heard everything he'd said. I didn't really care, either. To get out was my only concern.

We had all the night ahead of us. Autumn was here providing us with cool kisses on our cheeks as a gift from the wind itself, and I was now in Denfer's arms, carefully placed in a way that my right leg was straightened. He kept his battered hand locked with mine, sending again and again waves of refreshment down my body.

When we reached the corridor and not a nurse appeared in our sight, he started running and I closed my eyes for a second, squeezing him harder. He squeezed my hand back but continued running toward a door that was supposed to be used only for immediate danger, as the wooden sign on it warned us. So maybe we were in danger. Or more likely, we were the ones everyone else should keep an eye on if they didn't want to get themselves in danger. I liked how the second option sounded.

Even though Denfer had taken the stairs, he didn't seem exhausted, just careful. And I was thankful for the way no one was here and we could escape the building without anyone noticing until a nurse went into my room. But even then, it would be too late for them to find us.

"And . . ." Denfer began, almost out of breath but still moving. I could feel the power that was being radiated through his hand starting to weaken, but he was still running, without looking back. "We're out!"

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