THE NIGHT WAS PURPLE; dressed in mystery and kissed by secrets that even the rain didn't know about their sacred existence; edged with hints of orange for the better understanding I had now of Denfer's way of thinking, acting and loving. Dancing in the big halls of the tower, the transient sensation of intimacy Cloudien's words had created was soon accompanied by the coldness of the murky room I'd just entered. Denfer's room.
The candles were blown out, only one was still burning, and darkness kept company to silence. It seemed despoiled, not compared in the slightest to the room I'd spent the past few days in. The heat the fireplace had been inducing all the previous nights had been replaced by the cold air that came in through the open doors that led to a small balcony. The warm feeling of having someone waiting for me here was also gone. Because now, there was no one here, or at least no one I could detect. And I'd grown used to waiting for the night to come, so that I could find Denfer waiting for me here.
Now the room was empty, like the way my room had always been in the Castle of Sunlight.
Vacillating over whether I should head downstairs and search for Denfer, or stay here and attempt to sleep, I almost missed the shadow of a man that was cast on the wall behind the bed. My heart lost a beat at the realization that I wasn't alone. In the balcony. Someone was in the balcony.
I would have let myself bite my lips and stagger out of the room if I'd listened to the weaker side of me, the one telling me to run away.
My magic danced in my veins for the way fear was about to take over, but I pushed all the thoughts aside and with almost silent steps, I walked deeper into the room, toward the shadow.
And then a voice.
Calm and drowned in melancholy, but it was enough. Because all I needed was the sound of that familiar voice that echoed through the darkened room for me to decide to stay, for my heart to stop thundering. The shadow belonged to Denfer. There was no threat.
"Why?" His question was taken away by the wind, ripped apart by the rain, and I stood there, a few feet away from him, but still close enough to hear him clearly.
I dared a step closer and at that moment I was grateful for the carpeted floor, and the way it absorbed the sound of my boots. Otherwise, he would have been informed about my presence. I dared another step toward the bed, so that I could have a better view of him, and remained still when my eyes finally found him. He was shirtless. In the rain and the cold, he was shirtless.
Scars that snaked along his skin were visible from my position, decorating his shoulders and his back, deep and brutal.
"Do you know how difficult it is?" he shouted to the wind, his voice cracking a little.
Even though I couldn't see his face, I was sure that his eyes were locked in the sky. Resting his hands on the railing, I watched him become one with the pouring rain. It didn't seem to be bothering him at all. Probably he wasn't aware of the raindrops that flowed abundantly on his muscled back or the way some of them looked like crystals on the canvas of pure gold that his skin was. And I was sure that if only I had the chance, I would write something about him and read it every night in Hell as my only way to let this moment last forever. No one else would read it, not even Denfer. But it would be enough to get me through the hardships.
A long minute passed and Denfer decided to talk to the sky again. But this time his voice was lower than the fluorescence in the room. I took a step forward in order to hear every word he spoke.
"It's so damn difficult that I want to destroy this city that holds a catalogue of my every weakness, burn down every last piece of life that exists in this place, and then cry oceans of tears because I regretted everything I did in my anger. And I'm alone. I'm alone. Can you hear it?" he said and lowered his head to the ground. He looked defeated in the most final way.
But he went on. "You always thought of me as the sensible, the resilient, the heroic one. But a king is not supposed to have one-sided conversations with the wind in the middle of the night. A king is not supposed to talk to a dead one about the difficulty of trying to save the world when he couldn't even save his brother. God, you didn't just kill yourself. You killed me, too."
At that moment, I stopped hearing, I stopped looking. I—
I sat on the bed and waited for him to come inside. Stifling my desire to go and stand next to him to tell him that he wasn't alone and that he would never have to be this way from now on, I tried to focus on the way his words had sounded; so empty, yet so desperate at the same time. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what he wanted me to do, either.
I only knew that it was not fair and it was not right. And every passing moment, I was even more sure of my decision to be the one to chase the wild dream of demanding a new kingdom. Because I'd seen him doing everything, and still getting hate for something that hadn't been his fault, for something that had been my fault: my unwillingness to go to Hell for them. And I knew how it felt to be blamed for things you had zero control over. And I could understand now why he'd freaked out the moment I'd tried to take my own life.
All these days, I'd seen him doing things that only few would do.
I'd seen him, followed him, as he'd gone to the city to give a plate of food to the homeless of the Gap World's capital, with a hood over his head and his stare always to the ground, for him to not be recognized. He didn't like how they reacted when they understood he was the king, that was what he'd told me. But I thought they were fools.
He didn't like the recognition, and I didn't blame him. The rumors about him that grew in the city were insane.
And tonight . . . tonight I'd seen how it all still affected him. Maybe Cloudien had foreseen that exact moment, too. Maybe Cloudien had known that this was going to happen and that was why he'd told me all those things earlier. For me to have a better understanding of the situation.
Rolling his shoulders, I watched him still standing in the rain, even though he'd stopped talking. I counted the seconds that passed, then the minutes. He didn't move, he didn't do anything. He just stood there, as if the world around him didn't exist, as if the rain held his own magic from exploding. But water to water could only make the flood worse, bigger, life-threatening.
My throat bobbed as I said, "You're such a good liar."
Turning around to face me, he couldn't hide the surprise from showing up on his eyes. It was like he needed a moment to understand what was going on around him.
With heavy steps he came into the room.
"What?" he asked, voice hoarse, brows knitted.
From the bed I watched him heading for the closet, grabbing a towel to dry his hair.
All these days I'd known that something had been bothering him, that there was tension and something like despair in his words and behavior, but I'd ignored it. And he hadn't wanted to talk about it either. Dread settled into my heart for all the times he'd felt that way, and I'd been so caught up in my own world instead of noticing.
My eyes slid over my shoulder and found Denfer putting on a bright orange jacket on top of a red shirt. A king who color he could not see, I reminded myself.
His eyes lifted to mine, as if he was searching for the faintest reassurance that the clothes he'd chosen were okay. They weren't. But I didn't say a thing.
I only said, "You're not alone. You said to whoever you were talking to that you were alone. But you're not. I hope you know that. Both literally and metaphorically."
He tensed and stood still, staring at me from a distance. "I thought you wouldn't come tonight, as far as the literal part goes."
It was my turn to look at him surprised.
"And what would I do?"
Sitting on the bed next to me, he lifted his shoulders in ignorance, then shrugged. "Stay with Cloudien? I don't know."
I almost chuckled because how could I stay with Cloudien after everything he'd told me? It weighed heavily on me, that dark part of his story that he hadn't shared with me. I respected it, though; his unwillingness to trust me.
"Cloudien told me about your brother," I admitted and regretted it the exact same moment. Because he laughed, laughed, and I could swear that I'd never heard a darker sound coming out of someone's mouth in my life.
His back touched the headboard. The next moment, he put his hands over his face and let them linger there for a while.
"Can this get any worse?" he asked.
Tilting my head to the side, it was an effort to not tell him that I didn't feel any pity for him, that I didn't think of him as another wounded soul in desperate need of healing. He wouldn't want to hear that now, he would assume I'd said that out of pure sympathy, not because I truly believed it.
Instead, I opted for another question. "You miss him, huh?"
Wrong question. Of course, he did.
He chuckled. "What do you think?"
In perilous waters we were swimming, getting hit by the cruel waves and the unpredictable tide. One wrong movement from either of us and we would both drown.
"The drawing," I said, "Was it your brother's?"
Silence. Silence laced with fear and shame. Shame for what I'd done. Fear for his answer.
"It was." The words, even though expected, were a sword penetrating my heart.
It was his brother's drawing. And I'd destroyed it. And I'd made him . . . I'd made him cry.
A different time then. A time when I'd been afraid of magic, and he'd been a threat. I still was afraid of it; of the things I could do and the things someone could do to me because of their magic. But he wasn't a threat anymore. He'd never actually been one.
I swallowed. "I'm sorry that I hurt you."
And I hoped it was enough. Knew that it wasn't. But still hoped it was.
Enveloping his body with the blanket, he murmured, "It's okay."
"No, it's not."
The room felt small, smaller than the one in the Castle of Sunlight. I wanted to shout that I was sorry and that I was proud of him for who he was, for what he'd managed to overcome, for how he still had goodness in his heart. I was proud of him, not sorry for what he'd been through.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said, flashing his now brown eyes at me. His fingers found my wrist, as he added, "Not now. Not ever. And especially not with you. Not because I don't trust you or something, but because I want you to look at me and see Denfer. Not a king. Not a failure. Not the man who lost his brother. So . . . let's just sleep, okay? That's a conversation I don't want to have with you."
Enough. It was enough for today. I didn't want to push him any further. A still healing wound, I figured, something no one could touch yet.
Taking my hand away from his, I was out of bed in a matter of heartbeats. I wouldn't sleep tonight. Not when tomorrow . . . When tomorrow was my last day here. Only the thought alone was enough to make my heartbeat faster. I hadn't told Denfer yet. But it was my decision and it was final.
So, I headed to the piano, aware of the possibility that Denfer's eyes might be on me the whole time, following my every movement, and placed my hands on the keys.
"Good night," I whispered and started playing before I could hear his reply.
Soft melodies, sounds only the night could appreciate. Melodies that Josh had found plain and boring, since there weren't words to accompany them. I hadn't told him back then that the only words I'd ever read to him, and the ones he'd dismissed, were meant to be a part of this melody. I hadn't dared. So now, I only played the notes, and the sound was calm, peaceful.
I hoped Denfer felt the same way because I'd promised myself to never play anything in front of anyone again, to never let anyone get a glimpse of what I felt, of what I created, of what I liked. Tonight, I'd broken that promise. Because he'd given me a part of him that he'd wanted to keep forever hidden. And I wanted to do the same for him.
🔱
When I stopped playing, Denfer had fallen asleep.
Walking to the bed, I curled myself under the silken sheets and the blankets, trying not to wake him. He didn't instantly open his eyes at the sound of me sneaking in his bed, like all the nights before. He didn't even seem to notice.
That was good. That was great. He would finally get a night ofdeep sleep. Not always alert, not always on edge.
I tried to do the same, but completely failed.
Tomorrow everything good and great would end. Tomorrow was the end of all the new beginnings I'd come to value more than anything in my life. I wasn't ready for this. I would never be. And even though I wanted to savor the last moment of calmness and security, I couldn't stop thinking about everything that was about to happen.
So I spent my night in the bathroom, trying to calm my magic, trying to keep it under control.
My magic stayed inside my veins. But what was in my stomach did not.
🔱🔱