Avery (Random Romance)

by Charlotte McConaghy

  I rolled my eyes, sick of him. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘Fine.’ He strode towards the door. That seemed to be the nature of our relationship – vacillating between moments of amused camaraderie and savage fighting. It was exhausting.

  ‘Ambrose,’ I said suddenly, unsure what was about to pop out of my mouth but sure I would rather fight with him than be alone. ‘You’re embarrassed by your mother, aren’t you?’

  He stopped at the door and whirled around.

  ‘You’re embarrassed to be from Pirenti. You’re embarrassed of what you can’t control.’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me what I feel, you arrogant little shit,’ he snarled. He was across the room in several long strides, towering over me. ‘I pity you, Avery. You truly believe you know everything.’

  I didn’t respond because I didn’t have a clue what to say. He turned away, his jaw clenched – apparently I had hit a nerve.

  ‘Why did you save me back there?’ he asked abruptly, his tone clipped and furious. ‘I’m taking you to prison.’

  I took a deep breath. Something about his words just then hurt me more than anything else since I had woken. For some naïve reason, I had thought that he might not want me to go to prison anymore, but this was all the reminder I needed that Ambrose was the Prince of Pirenti. He was endowed with the task of delivering me to prison, and about that he was single-minded. I was nothing to him but a job.

  ‘I know that,’ I bit out.

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘Because … it’s because Ave— Ava always said it was better to have mercy than blood on your hands.’

  ‘That’s a lie,’ he said. ‘You’re so full of hate you wouldn’t think twice about murdering anyone from Pirenti.’

  I licked my lips and forced myself to nod. ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Except me.’

  I found his face sharply.

  ‘You want to hate me. You desperately wish you could, but you don’t.’

  I felt my broken heart start to beat fast and heavy. He didn’t move, so I rose from the bed and walked towards him. We both stood in the spill of the orange light as the sun sank steadily lower. ‘When my eyes turn white, it means there is hate in my heart, and there’s no tricking the eyes.’

  His pale blue gaze flashed with something unrecognisable, and for a moment – one tiny moment in time – I thought I saw a fleck of gold in it, but then it was gone, and I knew my mind was playing tricks on me. That was impossible – more impossible, even, than me being able to smile.

  ‘Your eyes aren’t white now,’ Ambrose murmured. ‘They’re bright purple.’

  My anger sank away. I was like shattered glass spilling its contents all over the floor. ‘I want to kill your mother. You want to take me to prison. We’re an unstoppable force and an immovable object. Do you know what that’s called?’

  Ambrose smiled slowly, and for the first time I noticed how beautiful his smile was. It made his eyes all glittery like shards of crystal. ‘Fun,’ he answered.

  I stared at him in the fading sunlight, feeling my eyes change colour. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know which colour they were turning to. My answer was just as simple: it was called death. And there in lay the difference between us.

  Marla entered the room and gave us a quick once over. ‘You’re out of bed.’

  ‘It seems so.’ I didn’t like this woman. She had an air of disdain about her.

  ‘You are required in your room, pig,’ she said to Ambrose. She’d called him the exact same thing I just had, but I almost hated her for it.

  He blinked and then grinned, finding this hilarious. ‘And what would that be for, sweetheart?’

  Marla shifted to the side so that we could see the two armed men flanking her.

  ‘Ah, I see,’ Ambrose murmured. He shot me a look, shrugged and then strode from the room.

  ‘Someone will be in to help you wash and dress, sire,’ Marla told me before shutting the door behind her. I distinctly heard the sound of a lock being turned.

  Well then, I probably should have assumed that ‘guest’ actually meant ‘prisoner’ – it was rather obvious in hindsight.

  Several young boys entered with a big tub and then set about filling it with hot water, carried in one bucket at a time. I nearly wet myself with anticipation, watching the steam rise off the water. After they’d gone I stripped off all of my clothes for the first time in what felt an age, dumping the filthy pile in the corner. I unravelled the cloth around my chest and carefully plucked the pins from my hair, letting the long locks fall around me. My poor hair – it was full of dirt and grease and needed a very good wash. But at least it was still my hair, the one thing I’d ever really liked about myself.

  With a prickling sensation along my spine, I steeled myself and moved before the mirror. Two years was a long time to pretend, a long time to remember. I didn’t know what I’d see, what to expect. I drew a deep breath and opened my eyes. A woman stood before me, a strange one. She was a different shape to the girl I remembered – her breasts fuller, her legs longer. She was thinner – I could see her ribs under her skin, scraping to get out. Her hair had grown all the way to her hips, but it was dark with all the dirt it held. Strangest of all was the expression this woman wore. It was distant and unimaginably cold, like it belonged to a creature made of hatred and fury. She looked old and weary and haunted. She was a monster, something completely other. I tried to find myself in her, but even when I stepped right up close to the glass and peered into those purple eyes, I couldn’t recognise a single thing about her. She was abstractly beautiful, as I had always wished to be, but I now found her ugly, understanding as I did now that real beauty simply came from happiness.

  There was a sound behind me and I whirled to face my intruder. A girl about my age, with short dark hair. She had the same awful burn mark on her face in the shape of a wolf.

  We stared at each other for a long moment, and then she remembered to drop her eyes. ‘Forgive me, my lady,’ she blurted, closing the door she had just entered. ‘I came to bring you a change of clothes, but now I see you may need a different set.’

  ‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone I’m a woman. My travel companion especially cannot know.’

  The girl nodded. ‘Of course, my lady – I won’t tell a soul.’ She smiled. Her eyes were green, and she was quite pretty. ‘Hop in the bath,’ she coached. ‘I’ll help you wash that beautiful hair of yours before it is tied back under your cap – even if it is a crime to hide it away.’

  Climbing into the water was bliss. It was so hot it scalded every inch of my skin, but I didn’t care, because I felt clean for the first time in months. In years, actually.

  ‘I’m Hannah,’ the girl said as she gently combed out the tangles in my hair and then set about washing what was left with a lavender-smelling soap. I smiled wryly as I realised it was very similar to the soap I used at home. I sank back against the tub and closed my eyes at the feel of her fingers in my hair. How funny, how stupid, that I still couldn’t cut my hair. It remembered things I couldn’t bear to.

  ‘Avery.’

  She smiled. ‘How odd this is. Why do you do it?’

  I didn’t reply.

  Hannah set about wiping clean my filthy body. ‘Oh, my lady!’ she exclaimed when she came to my bruised ribs. ‘You’re black and blue! How did this happen?’

  ‘I’ve got so many injuries I can’t even remember how I got them all.’ An expression across a fire; a boot slamming into my body; pale, angry eyes – stories I’d never expected to collect.

  ‘You will need these injuries tended to. This arm looks nasty, as does your poor hand.’

  I didn’t bother explaining that I would probably be dead before the injuries could do me any real harm.

  ‘Climb out and I’ll dress you. Are you sure you want to wear these ugly men’s clothes?’

  ‘I’ve no need for pretty attire.’

  ‘But … why? Don’t you want t
o feel pretty?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Well … I don’t know. So men will find you pretty?’

  My eyebrows arched. ‘I take it you haven’t bonded yet?’

  ‘No,’ she sighed. ‘and I’ll probably never meet my bondmate stuck here.’

  ‘You don’t like it here?’

  Hannah shrugged. ‘I worry that my mate is in Kaya waiting for me and I’ll never get there.’

  I shook my head. ‘You will find each other.’ For a long moment we said nothing until finally I murmured, ‘Prettiness means nothing in real life.’

  The sad truth was that Hannah reminded me of myself when I was younger. I’d been romantic and whimsical, and though I’d never really cared about bonding, I had certainly wanted to attract men. I hoped very dully that she would grow out of wanting to impress the opposite sex. Then I thought that perhaps that sentiment came from my dead soul and that girls like Hannah should be able to enjoy such trivialities in their lives. I couldn’t figure out a balanced perspective on the matter. It all seemed too stupid for words.

  ‘How did you meet your mate?’ Hannah asked, her eyes shifting to a lighter green. It was an unsettling colour and spoke of wariness, or foreboding.

  I walked away, not wanting to be touched. Looking down at my hands, I licked my dry lips. ‘I’d taken my da’s boat out for the first time on my own.’ Why was I telling her this? Why do it to myself? ‘He’d sworn til his face went red that I wasn’t allowed to sail it by myself for at least another five years, so I stole it. I was fifteen. A northerly wind swept in and blew me off course and I had no idea what to do. I was blown south along the coast until I reached a small cove. I was crying by that point, like a complete coward, but he saw me from the shore and rowed his own boat out to meet me. I had my head in my hands, sobbing, and when I felt the boat rock I looked up to see a young man step into it, a man with black hair like I’d never seen before. He looked down at me, and he smiled, and both our eyes turned to gold.’

  Another life, another world – remembering was like ice in my veins.

  Hannah sighed wistfully, and to my horror, her eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s … it’s so awful.’

  I shrugged and started dressing in several layers to make myself bulkier. Hannah watched as I pinned my hair up. It occurred to me that this was a rather pointless effort if I wasn’t going to be allowed out of this room.

  ‘What are the rules here?’ I asked, straightening from my bootlaces.

  ‘Rules, my lady?’

  ‘Can I leave the room?’

  She blushed bright red. ‘I was instructed to explain that you have been given limited activity time.’

  ‘Activity time?’

  ‘You may venture outside only during daylight hours, but you are to be supervised at all times.’

  I sighed. ‘And Ambrose?’

  ‘He cannot leave his room at all.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  She hesitated, unsure. ‘The floor above you, one room to the right.’

  ‘Thank you. You can go now, but have my food sent up to his room, please.’

  ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘That’s all thank you, Hannah.’

  Hannah bowed and retreated in a hurry. Outside on the balcony, I peered up at the floor above. The walls of the building were completely covered in vines, so I didn’t have too much trouble swinging myself up onto the next floor and shimmying across to Ambrose’s room. I felt slightly woozy as I hauled myself up over the railing and onto his balcony though. After briefly squeezing my eyes shut to dispel the dizziness, I saw Ambrose lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

  I tapped on the glass window and he smiled very slightly. The muscles in his torso stretched as he jumped up to unlock the window, and I tried not to look at him as I climbed in. ‘Why don’t you ever wear shirts anymore?’

  ‘Because I used part of my shirt as bandages for you, and burnt the rest for light in the tunnels.’

  Right – obviously. ‘I just came to tell you that they’re not going to let you out of this room, and there’s nothing I can do about it. So when I leave, you’re on your own.’

  ‘Oh, lovely. You’re in another pleasant mood.’

  The lock on the door clicked and a guard pushed two trays of food into the room.

  ‘You told them you’d eat here?’ Ambrose asked.

  ‘I’m not eating here. I sent my food for you.’

  He stared at me. ‘Why?’

  I crossed and pulled the covers off the two bowls. One had a delicious smelling vegetable stew, the other contained a tiny serving of what I could only imagine was a tasteless gruel. ‘That’s why,’ I muttered. ‘I’m not hungry – you can have mine.’

  Ambrose shook his head, still watching my face with unnerving sharpness. ‘You need to eat, Ave. I won’t have your food.’

  ‘I can’t taste it,’ I snapped. ‘What I eat makes no difference to me. I’ll have some of the gruel, if it will make you happy, but there’s no sense in me eating the stew when you could enjoy it.’

  There was a flagon of dark red wine with the bowls. ‘Sit down,’ Ambrose ordered me, lifting the stew and the wine. ‘Outside on the balcony.’

  ‘I’m not staying.’

  ‘Just do it, would you?’

  I frowned and went to sit on the cool marble of the balcony. It was weird, having everything made out of such expensive stone. It seemed excessive. But then again, if marble was all that was available, it lost its value pretty quickly.

  The sky had slid to a deep, inky purple, and the moon was bigger than I’d ever seen it. It held a faint red sheen, and I knew that if we went to Pirenti it would be a rich scarlet shade, like blood – like it had been the night Avery died.

  Ambrose plonked himself down with his back against the glass and placed the bowl of stew between us. As he busied himself pouring wine, I took the opportunity to look at him properly for the first time tonight. He was suddenly – bizarrely – handsome. It was amazing what a good wash did for a man. His skin was clean and smooth, and he even smelt nice. His eyes under the strong brow glowed more brightly in the light of the night sky.

  ‘Do you know how I first learnt that you existed?’ he asked abruptly. ‘I smelt that lavender soap you’re wearing. Honestly, Ave – are you trying to seem like a girl?’

  I couldn’t help it – I burst into laughter. He grinned at me, and for a moment our eyes met. ‘Come on,’ he sighed. ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘So eat.’

  Ambrose shook his head. ‘I love food,’ he said bluntly. ‘It’s one of the simplest pleasures there is and tonight you’re going to learn that.’

  ‘Ambrose, I have eaten food before. Twenty years’ worth—’

  His eyes snapped to mine and I froze. I felt my heart pick up speed as we stared at each other for an impossibly long moment. He’d heard it – he knew exactly how I’d slipped up – but when he continued he said nothing about my age. ‘You haven’t eaten food until you’ve eaten it like I do.’

  I breathed out, heart slowing back to its normal rhythm.

  ‘I won’t be able to taste it,’ I repeated loudly.

  ‘That’s bullshit – you’re just not trying.’

  My mouth fell open. ‘Your arrogance and presumption never cease to astound me.’

  ‘Whatever,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Tonight, I only eat what you eat. So take a bite, please, because I’m starving.’

  I didn’t have a clue what game he was playing. ‘It’s no concern of mine if you go hungry – I’m leaving.’ I stood up and reached for the railing.

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘For starters, you wouldn’t have sent your food up for me if you didn’t care. But more telling is the way your eyes go dark blue when you lie – you’re an open book to me, Avery.’

  I stopped with one leg over the railing. He smiled smugly and I hated the bastard.

  ‘Just sit down and take a bite.’
/>   Jaw clenched, I did so. The stew was very bland and I enjoyed telling him so, but he only took a mouthful when I did, so I found myself eating more than I would have, forcing the bites down. Oddly enough, I actually didn’t enjoy the thought of Ambrose going hungry. I was sure he was used to eating enough to feed a small country.

  ‘Can you taste the salt?’ he asked softly.

  I held a piece of the meat in my mouth, sucked on it, and shook my head.

  ‘What about the spices?’

  I skewered a big piece of potato and chewed it carefully, rolling it around in my mouth. Something sharp hinted at the edge of my taste buds but I couldn’t catch hold of it.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ he ordered gently.

  I glared sharply at him, nervous. Then did as he’d said. I felt strange and vulnerable as I urged my tongue to find flavour in the food.

  ‘There’s sage and rosemary in the sauce,’ Ambrose murmured. ‘It’s there when you swallow.’

  I swallowed – and there it was. A hit of heavy scent, filling my mouth and nose. My eyes flew open to find his, and I gasped.

  Ambrose straightened at the expression on my face, then very slowly his mouth creased into a wide grin. As though he was proud of me. ‘There it is. Your eyes are bright green.’

  I closed them again, feeling close to tears. My heart thumped heavily – woozily. There was so much precious flavour in my mouth – I hadn’t tasted anything in years. My face in my hands, I felt a warm palm against my spine moving up and down comfortingly. It was a big, rough hand, callused and dry, but very tender.

  ‘Funny, isn’t it?’ he murmured, voice scratchy. ‘It’s almost as if you’re still alive.’

  Alone in my room, I curled into a ball and cried.

  If you were here I’d run my tongue along your skin and taste you, and I’d say I’m sorry for the piece of life I remembered without you, and how for a moment upstairs I forgot the shape of your hand against my back and the look on your face when you ate something you liked. I’d tell you how hopeless I feel, how very sad. I’d kiss you, because I never kissed you enough. I never had enough of you at all. I never got the years we spoke of, the life we planned. I never had the children we were supposed to, the family you promised me. I never got enough of your laughter.