White Stag (Permafrost #1)(60)
Strength poured from my once-quivering voice as I straightened to look the n?kken in the eye. His glee-filled gaze at the pain coming from my lips made my stomach churn in disgust. His shrewd, calculating nature made me naked before him.
But he wouldn’t have me. No one would. Not unless I wanted it. No hands would roam where I forbade them, no lips or teeth would press against my flesh unless it was my wish. I was my own. The dregs of pain and fear I’d long buried bubbled to the surface, but I stood strong against their blows.
“Are you dead?
Little girl
Have they ravaged your skin?
Are you dead?
Little girl
Have the demons come in?
Are you dead?
Little girl
Like a lamb in the field?
Little girl
Oh little girl
Your soul won’t be healed.”
I was alive and breathing and fighting with every step I took. The mocking voice asking me over and over inside my head why my heart still went on was nothing more than the blood rushing in my ears. My voice rose with anger as I spat out the words in revulsion.
“Are you lost?
Little girl
Are you scared?
Little girl
Are you weak?
Little girl
Are you angry?
Little girl
Are you sad?
Little girl
Are you numb?
Little girl
Are you there?
Little girl
Are you there?
Little girl
Are you there?
Little girl?”
My father’s blood drenched my hands as a million pairs of eyes judged me, the daughter who chose the future over her past. But the shame that washed over me was nothing compared to the rage burning me up. We are all monsters even if we choose not to believe it. And the worst type were those who didn’t understand that. I was not a blood traitor for surviving and thriving. I was not damaged or broken or twisted beyond repair. No dead, mocking voices could tell me otherwise.
“We fall on our knees for you, sweet little child We would die and appease for your sweet darling smile
But we don’t have a need for you
We don’t have a part
So go out in the wild
Let the wolves eat your heart.”
I breathed out, the anger gone from my voice, and once more I whispered.
“Are you dead?
Little girl
Are you dead?
Little girl
Are you dead?
Little girl
Why are your eyes still open?”
I shuddered at the last words but kept my gaze on the creature before me. “There is your song. Now give me what I need to heal Soren.”
The n?kken slowly nodded; I could almost see the thoughts stirring inside his head. “You do have a story, don’t you?” A slow smile spread across his face. “I can feel it like your own heart beating.”
I scowled. The remains of my past still whirred through my adrenaline-addled brain. I pushed them far away, locking them back in the place they belonged. The past is the past. I was alive. My eyes would always be open, watching every creature’s every move. I would withstand whatever life threw at me. I was as sure of it as I was the breath in my body.
“I want what we bargained for,” I demanded.
The creature smiled sadly. “And you will get it.”
The calculating look in his eyes made my shoulders itch with discomfort. “All right, then,” I said. “Let’s have it.”
The n?kken ambled his way across the cave like there wasn’t a goblin a hundred feet above him dying of lindworm venom. He paused by the stone flowers and spoke to them as if they were people. One of his scaly hands brushed against the water lily–adorned hair of a dead girl.
I don’t have time for this. “Excuse me, I’m kind of on a deadline.”
He looked over at me, a clear film covering his eyes like a snake. “Patience, sweet child.”
I clenched my fists and reminded myself this was the only way to save Soren, and if that meant dealing with a senile n?kken, then I could do it. At least my throbbing palm was sealing up.
But then the strength the song gave me seeped away until the fire in my body turned to cold ashes. Voices came, scowling, snarling, taunting, all mocking every flaw, every vulnerability.
A thin sheet of sweat broke out across my body as my heart picked up speed. Regret tugged sharply at my gut as I pictured my father’s last moments with me, but deep inside I knew there was nothing I would’ve done differently, given another chance.
Lydian’s words came out of my father’s mouth. Worthless. Needless. Wantless. A lucky human left to die. They were more painful than any poison.
Someone cleared their throat, and I stared up at the n?kken. He had a vial in his hand, full of some odd purple salve. “Spread this directly on the wound,” he said. “And he should be fine within the hour.”
I took the vial with trembling hands, remembering those first long nights in Soren’s manor when Tanya worked tirelessly to save my broken, beaten body. The look of myself in the mirror, realizing the extent of what Lydian had done to me. The massive scar tissue, the ugly blotch where my right breast used to be. The lines along my spine and stomach and ribs, the deep grooves on my face as stark white scar tissue stood out against dark skin. I’d never thought I was pretty, but I’d never believed I was ugly either. Not until then.