Chapter 41

My body aches in places I never knew it could. Opening my eyes, my surroundings fade in and out of view. But not for long as the ever-present darkness takes me once again, sending me back to nothingness.
Voices swim in my mind. Their words muffled as if they’re underwater. I try to open my eyes only to be greeted by a blurry vision. A face dances in my view before darkness descends again.
It seems ages before my eyes adjust and allow me to see more clearly. "Kayla." A deep voice echo around me. Cole’s face comes into view. I try to sit up. Stabbing pains attack my body accompanied by a burning, stinging sensation. I consider his worried eyes. The slight movement causes me to yell out in pain.
I am confused for a moment and a little dazed. My breathing is shallow as I fight the flashes of light dancing in my vision.
He gently helps me up, propping pillows behind me. What happened?
He looks at me with concern. “Why would you try to cross the border of fire?"
This brings forth the memory of triumph I’d felt when the fire parted like Moses parting the Red Sea. Only, unlike Moses, it all went wrong. My chance of escape gone in a couple of seconds and nearly taking my life with it.
"It was a bad mistake trying to escape. Father has gone crazy." Cole paces my bedroom running his hand through his thick mane. I can’t help wishing the fire had taken me.
"I’ve heard that you learn from your mistakes. So, I’m making as many as I can. Soon I’ll be a genius." Deep hacking coughs rattle my chest and rake my body. Each movement sends torturous pain through me.
The following days pass slowly. Along with my injuries from the fire, the king decided I needed punishing. I received fifty whips to my back. After the first twenty, I couldn’t bear the pain any longer and lapsed into unconsciousness.
My back is now one big open wound. Any small movement cracks open the scabs that thinly cover my broken skin.
Lillian spends hours covering my back and burnt face with a potion she claims quickens the healing process and reduces scarring.
My only companions are the hell hound and Lillian. Cole has not been back to my room since the night I woke after my near-death experience.
Lillian, accompanied by a man with gray hair and wearing a white lab coat, walk into my room.
"Good morning, Kayla, this is Dr. Downing. He is going to heal you ready for tonight," Lillian explains as I look blankly at them.
"What’s happening tonight?"
"You’re wedding, of course." She laughs. My stomach drops and my body shakes. I must have been out longer than I originally thought.
"Don't look so sad dear, the king has sent invitations out to your friends." I decide the king is playing a new game. Inviting my friends was really bad. The question is why? Then it dawns on me. If he kills them, then I have no one. I will be alone and have nowhere to run. He will carry out his threat to me at the wedding. I have no doubt he will make me watch.
In a broad Irish accent, the doctor orders me to, "Lay on your stomach, please." He then proceeds to run his hands over my back, causing a burning sensation which intensifies. I bury my head in my pillow and cry out.
"All done," Dr. Downing states cheerfully as he heads for the door.
"Wait, what about my face?" I run my hands over the rough skin where the horrible scars mark my face.
"Ah yes, your face. The king has ordered that you bear the marks as a reminder of your foolish actions." Defeated and dejected, I shrink back with the emptiness in my heart growing larger. The king has already told me of his plans to slaughter the Guardians, and then the angels, before taking over the angels’ home. With each lash of the whip, he bestowed on me, he detailed how he would destroy my friends and family. They won't stand a chance with the king's army that swarms the castle grounds.
For the rest of the day, Lillian rushes around getting me ready for my upcoming wedding. My mind scrambles to search for a way out. But it’s futile, each time I come up empty.
Lillian fills the bath with exotic smelling bath oils. I climb in and lay still, watching each bubble pop and fade. Fed up with my somber mood and my lack of action, Lillian washes my hair and orders me out of the tub, tutting loudly.
When my hair is dry, she pleats my hair on both sides, ties them together and inserts a black rose at the back like a crown. The rest of my hair hangs freely. She threads small black roses through the pleats before applying thick black lipstick on my lips and covering my eyelids in what I think is far too much gray eye shadow and eye liner.
All the while the hell hound lies too close for comfort with a paw over his eyes and slightly peeking at me. I swear I can see him pulling different expressions.
“That bad huh,” I look at the hound, who howls in response. I should feel happy about the new breakthrough in communication with the hound, but my heart is too heavily weighed down with self-pity.
"Please stand, Kayla, we must put on your corset and dress. The ceremony will start in less than half an hour; your slow timing has delayed us. The king will not be pleased," she chides while unzipping a black dress suit protector from which she pulls a plain black corset.
Pushing and tugging to get the garment on, she demands that I breathe in. My chest feels crushed, and my breathing becomes light. "I can’t wear this thing. I can hardly breathe," I mutter. The hound makes a clickingnoise, and I swear heis laughing at me. I give it a glare, and he places a paw back over his eyes.
"Nonsense. Stop acting like a child and suck it up."
"I’ve been sucked up and in so much I feel like a sardine," I mumble. If she heard me,she chooses to ignore me.
She then pulls out a dark black strapless wedding dress from the same protector. Reluctantly I put it on. Doing so makes the knots in my stomach tighten. The dress fits the top part of my body snugly. The bottom widens and trails for around four feet behind me.
I look in the full-length mirror and shudder. I look like a zombie bride with my pale, burnt skin and black makeup and dress. Not exactly how I ever pictured my wedding dress and accessories. The hound walks up behind me. It is the closest I have ever gotten to him. I make no movement and stand as still as a statue. The hound lifts its head, and I look into its eyes. He looks sad. Slowly I move my hand towards him, and when he makes no move to shred my hand into pieces, I pet his head. He tilts his head into my hand.
“Are you crazy?” Lillian barks at me, and I snatch my hand away. The hound shows its teeth and gives a low, menacing growl.
“Come.” She beckons me over. I sigh and walk over to her.
Lillian guides me out of the room to my fate of doom. We stop outside the ballroom. Strange music starts to drift from behind the closed doors. My legs tremble, and my hands shake.
"Here hold these." Lillian thrusts a bunch of black and gray roses into my hands. The thorns pierce the skin on my index finger. Blood drips onto the depressing flowers.
A gasp behind me draws my attention.
"She bears the mark of the rose thorn," a young girl around sixteen years old with flaming red hair and a heart shaped face stutter. Flicking my hair back, I cover my birthmark, which is on back just above my left shoulder. Suddenly I feel self-conscious. What is it with people commenting? It’s just a birthmark.
The king comes up to me and in that sing-song way of his, declares, “Don’t you look lovely this evening.” I cringe and draw back from his touch as he grabs my hand and places a rough kiss there.