Page 15 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

Farah would never be in love again. She had promised herself that long ago, but Avra did not need to know that. “I do.”

“Then it is settled. Acacius, alert the court that we will be holding the Mysteries after all. I am sure they will be thrilled to continue preparations. I know I am.”

Acacius’s stone gaze consumed her once more as a deadly smirk spread across his face.

What had she done? The world around Farah went dark, and finally her body allowed itself to fall.

Chapter Eleven

Farah

The overwhelming scent of salts filled Farah’s nostrils as she was pulled back into the light. Plush, velveteen pillows formed a halo around her head, keeping her somewhat upright. The room was brighter than the hall where they’d all just stood, yet somehow it seemed colder, sterile. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one side of the room, displaying a vast, snowcapped mountain range. Sunlight radiated in through the windows aiding the fire lanterns in giving the all white room a painful glow.

Standing over Farah, dressed in a white cloak with long gray gloves, was a man waving a burning patch of herbs over her face. Spectacles slid down his elongated and crooked nose, but his demeanor contrasted the bleak surroundings. He smiled intensely, removing the smelling salts and herbs and placing them down on a tray beside the stone platform where she lay.

“It is good to see you awake, Princess. You took quite the tumble in the great hall earlier,” the man said, his voice much older than expected based on his unwrinkled skin. Copper hair was tucked neatly back in a tie and warm brown eyes, not unsimilar to her own, stared back at her.

“Where…where am I?” Farah asked, still finding her bearings.

“This is the medic wing, of course. Avra had you rushed here right after you collapsed. I will apologize for that. My son, well, he can be quite—how can I say this nicely—curious at times. Lets his imagination and fascination with people get the best of him.”

“Your son?” Farah shot up on the bed? Table? She still wasn’t sure.

“Halius Rigas, at your service, Your Highness.”

At your service? Halius was known across the Mykandrian as one of the most bloodthirsty Grechi, and here he was dressed in a medics uniform tending to whatever sickness caused her to pass out. Was this a dream? A sick, sick dream?

“Do not fret. I am not as terrifying as they say. I must keep up appearances of course, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone outside these walls that I was kind to you.” He strode away and began to fiddle with some other vials of potions on a nearby table.

“You are the God of War and I am to just believe you tend to random people’s ailments in your spare time? Is this some sort of torture tactic? Can you do whatever it is your son was doing to me earlier? Is your family set on driving me mad for what my father did?” Farah could really use a dagger right now. Or truthfully any sort of weapon. She was too weak from whatever curse Acacius put on her to use her powers.

“God of War, yes. But in truth, that honor means many things. My dear wife is the one who revels in death and bloodshed. I can oversee battles and sway the outcomes at will, but I also am charged with the aftermath of what war causes, both mentally and physically. Being a healer is simply who I am. But again, that is our little secret.”

Farah inched back on the bed. From the tight, white cotton sheet beneath her, she now realized it was indeed a bed, although she was not sure if that made her feel any better.

“If I am to believe you, that you truly are trying to help me, then what did your son do? Why do I feel like I was poisoned and stabbed all over when I drank or ate nothing and have no wounds?” Well, wounds that she was aware of. Farah patted herself down to double check she hadn’t gone into a state of shock after being pierced by a weapon.

“He can control pain—and pleasure, though he never uses that gift anymore.” Halius crossed his arms. “I cannot speak for my son’s intentions, but he took a great interest in you from the moment Avra announced you would be joining her niece on this journey. I am guessing he was concerned that you were a threat.”

“He asked me to marry him in between making me feel like I was dying a slow and painful death.”

“Ah yes, the old torture a girl then ask her to marry you trick. Works every time.” Laughter filled the hollow room as Halius shook his head. “And what was your response?”

Farah straightened her spine and held out her right hand. She might as well lean into the absurd plan Chloe concocted without her consultation. “That I am already engaged. To your niece.”

Halius rolled his lips between his teeth and cocked his head to the side, fiddling with his hands. “I see. Well, I am sure Acacius is very disappointed. I will speak to him, make sure he does not harm you again.” Grabbing one particular vial off the table, one as deep crimson as Farah’s blood with swirls of inky black, he stuck it in his pocket. “My wife will be in momentarily. For now, close your eyes, rest. You will feel better by the time she is here, I promise.” Halius floated toward the door with ease. “And, Farah, know you are safe here.”

Safe was the furthest thing she felt, but at this point, it was out of her control.

It seemed as if hours had passed when Farah eventually fluttered her eyes back open. She was surprised she had slept at all, but whatever tea Halius had left her seemed to lull her into a much needed rest. Her head no longer pounded and her temperature appeared to be back to normal. Sweat that had coursed along her body was now dry and her mouth no longer felt like parchment.

Yawning, Farah stretched her arms overhead before rolling to her side. Her heart skipped two beats as she was met by a waiting Avra. The queen had changed into more casual clothes since their meeting in the great hall. Her black hair was pinned up in braids that circled the crown of her head and she now wore a simple white flowing shirt, held close to her chest with a black leather corset. Her skirt was plain, but well crafted, forest green made to sit just under her knees. It looked light enough that the queen could fight in it, but beautiful enough that she could also attend court without being glanced twice at.

“Your Majesty.” Farah sat up, rolling out from under the sheet and standing to bow. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Avra motioned her to sit back down. “We have no need for formalities. You are a guest of this house now.”

Farah brushed out her own clothes before wiping at the side of her face in hopes she did not have any drool left over from her nap. “Of course. May I ask why you wished to see me here, rather than in your office or the great hall?”