Palace of Moonlight

by Payton Taylor

  As he turned to the small fire pit that rested in the middle of the room to start a fire for his fish, he thought back over the events that had led him there. His thoughts were his only company.

  After Noelani had commanded him to leave, he'd taken off with no thought other than the shrieking command telling him to flee Ettria and never come back. He'd run as far as he could before his wounds had gotten the best of him and he knew he was dying. His legs had given out and he'd fallen to the ground somewhere not far from shore. Azmodeous, the king of Ettria, the king he used to serve, had taken control of his body and made him turn his own knife against himself. The pain had been almost blinding as he'd been forced to carve a deep gash diagonally across his torso from shoulder to hip. The king had silently commanded him to apply just enough pressure so as not to kill him instantly, but to ensure a slow and painful death.

  He had lain there, Noelani's command screaming at him to stay alive and leave Ettria safely, but he could barely move. He was sure he was going to die there, without ever knowing if Noelani and his family were safe.

  He had just started a prayer to Hele, the Goddess of healing, when he heard the small, timid footsteps that approached him. Then, Zoe Leoni's small, frightened face appeared in his line of sight and that command to survive came roaring back. He tried to lift his hand, but something wasn't working, and he couldn't. He didn't want to frighten the child, but he was dying. It took almost all of his strength, but at last, he was able to croak out the word, "Healer."

  Her large, hazel eyes widened before a small, sweet smile spread across her face. "Don't worry, I know just the place!" She spoke with a child's confidence. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of Zoe's tiny, soft hand, gentle against his cheek, before he lost all consciousness.

  When he awoke, he was in the Wastes, lying in the same hut he now lived in. A small, ancient old woman had come scurrying over, jar in hand.

  "Don't move!" she wheezed when Westin made to sit up. Her gnarled hand had pushed him down while the other hand dug inside a jar to scoop out a handful of swamp-green paste that smelled a little bit like moss and a lot like animal dung. She smeared the paste over his wound, making sure to smash it into every crevice. It was almost soothing before the burning set in.

  "I thought you were a Healer," Westin had gritted out as his nerves screamed out in pain. She'd only spread it over his wound, but his entire body felt as if he was being burned alive.

  The woman cackled, even more lines appearing in her already wrinkled face. "There are no Healers in the Wastes."

  The Wastes? Zoe had brought him to the Wastes?

  Of course she brought me here, Westin thought, this is the only place she knows. Wait, where was she?

  "There was a girl," he said, his voice raspy with disuse, "Zoe, where is she?"

  "Oh that bitty thang?" the woman snorted. "Oh them men-folk came and boy oh boy they'd neva saw clothes so rich. Started takin' errythang: your clothes, your weapons, your belt. I 'bout hadta fight em to get em to leave your pants, though I considered lettin' em take them too, heh," She looked Westin up and down with bright, beady eyes and winked.

  "The girl?" Westin demanded, tired of her rambling. "Oh, she ran off, scarder than a water bug after one

  of the bigger one's threatened her with a knife. She took off inta the woods and the man took off after her. Came back sayin' she disappeared, there one minute then gone in the blink of an eye, heh," the woman walked over to a table and rummaged through some jars.

  Westin closed his eyes in relief. Zoe had gotten away. Maybe she would bring someone back to help him.

  But she hadn't brought anyone back. Westin was starting to wonder whether she'd made it off the island after all.

  He'd gotten stronger as time went on. He had asked the woman-Daiya, her name was-why she insisted on helping him.

  "Oh it's nice havin' big strong men-folk around to protect me," she'd told him, "Plus the eye candy don't hurt none, heh."

  She knew her tricks and potions, but she didn't possess any actual healing Gift, so Westin's wound had healed slowly, leaving a thick, jagged scar across his torso. It was just one of many now.

  Daiya had told him that Zoe had helped her once and she owed her, so Zoe had called in that debt to help him before she'd left.

  He'd grown close to the old woman as she had helped his body to heal and done her best to help his mind as well. She had a knack for rambling that had annoyed him at first. A knack he'd gotten used to. A knack that hadn't faltered even when her dark brown skin seemed to sag, tinged with grey, and her eyes became bloodshot. As she began coughing up blood.

  She never told Westin why she was in the Wastes, whether it was punishment for some crime or whether she was born there. And she never told him she was dying, not until she became so weak that he had already guessed it for himself.

  Her coughing woke him one night weeks ago, her hacking refusing to let up until Westin was sure she'd cough up one or both of her lungs. Her dark eyes had met his in the dim moonlight that filtered into the hut.

  "I have somethin' to tell you, boy."

  Westin had smiled kindly, his lips trembling. "You're dying?"

  She snorted, "Of course I'm dyin', boy, only an idiot wouldn't realize that. I thought you were smarter than that, heh."

  The sound that left his throat was half chuckle, half sob. "What did you want to tell me, then?"

  "It's three things, actually. The first is thank you. For lookin' out for me these long months and makin' sure I got to eat. I wouldn't have lasted this long if not for you," she smiled, but broke off into a round of coughing.

  When she was finally done, she resumed. "The second thing is that you gotta stay bright, boy. I know you weren't meant for this place, heh, but you're here now. I hope you get out one day, I'll pray for it with my last breath, but if you don't, you have to find a way to make peace.

  Find a way to live, not just survive."

  Westin's jaw clenched and tears filled his eyes. He couldn't look her in the eye, not when she said things like that, so he settled for looking at her tiny, ancient hand, gripping his.

  He cleared his throat, "And the last thing?" "I want you to kill me."

  Westin's eyes flew to hers at her blunt words. She said them without a hint of fear, her gaze steady. Resolute.

  "I can't do that!"

  She sighed and patted his face with her other hand. "I knew you'd say that, my strong, soft boy, but I need you to. This thing that's killin' me, whateva it is, it's gonna do it nice and slow. I'm tired of hurtin' Wessy-boy, tired of livin' in pain. I don't wanna waste away here in the Wastes. I wanna go out on my terms. They can't take that away from me. Not that."

  Westin had refused. And when she asked again, he'd refused once more.

  But when she asked a third time, the last time, as morning light filtered in through the cracks in the walls, Westin agreed. He didn't want to. He hated the very thought. But she was suffering, had suffered in that place for so long, maybe her whole life, and he didn't want her to suffer anymore.

  So, Westin held her close to him and whispered goodbye and cursed whatever gods that had put him there, in that moment. He placed his hand comfortingly on the side of her head.

  And then he twisted, snapping her neck in a single, quick motion.

  When he laid her on the floor, he could have sworn that her lips were tilted upward in a faint smile. He told himself that between the dim lighting and the tears in his eyes, he must be seeing things.

  So, he buried her outside of the shelter she had lived in, had built with her own two hands, back when she was young and strong. He buried her with her jars and ingredients, the only things she had owned in life. And he covered her grave with flower seeds, in the hope that one day they would grow and make the place just a little bit brighter.

  Westin carried on, the days blending together, his dreams blurring with reality until he wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed or if he was awake or asleep.
>
  And now, as Westin cooked his fish, he wondered for the millionth time if it was all a dream. The Wastes didn't feel real most of the time. The people were savage, the land more so. He felt as if they were all animals, fighting with each other and against each other for survival in a land that wasn't meant for people to survive.

  Chapter 2

  Sunny

  Writhia, 5220

  Ettria

  Sunny was bursting with happiness.

  “This is the best food I’ve ever eaten, Rowahn,” she said around a mouthful of food.

  Beside her, Jo nodded her agreement while chewing with her mouth closed. She felt a gentle squeeze on her leg and looked up to see Westin smiling tenderly down at her.

  They were in Westin’s apartment—their apartment—his entire family gathered around the kitchen table along with her and her sister. Across from her, Westin’s mother, Rowahn, smiled and shook her head while Westin’s father, Philip, chuckled. At one end of the table, two of his brothers were covertly tossing vegetables at each other while Tansy, the youngest Airoldi sibling, giggled.

  Jo and Philip resumed their discussion about the new fish species that had been found off the Viannese coast that might hold the possibility to cure a rare brain disease. Sunny couldn’t stay focused on that conversation and turned to join Westin and Joel’s conversation about Joel’s new Hawk, which was basically a motorcycle with a propeller on the back, allowing the bike-like machine to fly.

  “The important question is,” she said, interrupting

  Joel mid-sentence, “when can I drive it?”

  Joel snorted, “You’ve never even driven anything like that before, what makes you think you could handle it?”

  Sunny scoffed, feigning offense, “I sure handled you when I won that arm wrestling competition!”

  Westin nudged her, “Remember the last time you tried to drive something? It didn’t go so well. . .”

  “So whose side are you on?” Sunny teased.

  Westin smiled a sexy sort of smile that was only for her. Leaning close, his deep voice rumbled in her ear, “You know perfectly well whose side I’m always on.” His words and close proximity sent shivers down her spine.

  Now it was Sunny’s turn to lean in close and whisper, “Come here, I want to show you something.”

  Grabbing Westin’s hand, she began leading him out of the kitchen. Before she left the room, she glanced back and saw Joel grin and wink, tipping his glass toward them. Sunny grinned and winked back.

  The moment they were out of the room, she pushed Westin against the wall. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, and a playful glint entered his eyes. "Oh, what will the enticing seductress do with me now?"

  Cocooned by his large frame, her body fit against his perfectly. She cradled his cheeks in her hands, and said, "Here's what," before bringing his face down to her own.

  Their lips melded together in perfect synchronization.

  Being with him was right. Everything felt right when she was with her Match.

  The moment the thought crossed her mind, Westin’s hands on her waist became rough, almost clawing at her clothes. Under her own hands, his body felt as if it was shifting, his shoulders becoming narrower.

  With a cry of alarm, Sunny jerked back and found herself staring into the lust-crazed eyes of Azmodeous.

  The Dark King.

  He smiled a twisted grin as shadows seemed to seep from every pore of his body. They flew through the air like bats and, in perfect harmony, they turned and shot through the air, coming straight for her. They tangled in her hair as they knocked her down, but instead of hitting the floor, she sunk into a black hole. Wind whipping at her face as she fell, shadows pawing at her.

  As she thrashed, her hands went straight through the silhouetted contours, trying to beat them away from her. Suffocation enveloped her body as she felt completely paralyzed. Constricted. Like she was choking.

  Like she was dying.

  "Eleyna. Eleyna!"

  Opening her eyes, she found herself looking into the face of King Azmodeous as if her dream was happening all over again. Straddling her, he held her arms tightly to her sides, and he was yelling, calling her by her mother's name.

  There was no air entering through her compressed chest, but her panic-muddled brain gave her extra strength. With energy thrumming through her muscles, Sunny followed her first instinct, head-butting him. Cursing, he let go of her arms to cover his nose with his hands.

  Still panicked, she felt that his weight was still on top of her, so she moved her hips to the side, bucking him off her and the bed and onto the floor.

  Finally, able to sit up, her limbs felt tight as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Her face dropped into her hands as she breathed deeply. Wetness seeped into her palms, the tears leaving her body similar to the happiness from the dream being ripped away.

  Once she caught her breath, she started the grim process of collecting herself. Of pushing her emotions deep down. Of putting on a show.

  The coppery tang of Azmodeous' blood burned her nostrils, and she knew retaliation was coming. She took her hands away from her face and watched as her tears mixed with specks of the king's blood.

  Azmodeous was standing in front of her, so she had to crane her head back to look at him.

  "I'm so-"

  His stinging slap cut her off.

  The black marble flooring slammed into her skin as she fell upon it. Azmodeous grunted with the force of the kick he sent to her stomach.

  "Oof." Pain tore through her as bile burned up her esophagus and air whooshed out of her lungs.

  Sunny curled onto her side, covering her head. She focused on her breathing. Agony arose with each breath she took. Gingerly touching her lip, her hand came away with fresh blood, this time her own.

  Overwhelmed, she stared at her hands for a long moment. There was static in her head, the side effect of the constant fear, constant stress. Pain.

  She heard her own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It took something out of her she didn't know she had left to give.

  That's the way it was when people were abusive. It was like a theft of the spirit, an injury no other person could see.

  And then there was a Healer.

  In Sunny's state of shock, she didn't even notice her enter the room. A touch of despair lit her eyes before she quickly hid it in front of the king. She knelt before Sunny, her hand lightly touching Sunny's stomach.

  Sunny hissed in a breath between her teeth before a cooling sensation took over, and then the pain was numbed. When the healer went to heal the cut lip, the king stopped her.

  "That will be all."

  The Healer nodded and scurried out of the room.

  The king grabbed Sunny's hand and jerked her to her feet. A groan escaped her lips and he silenced it with a possessive kiss. Ice filled her veins at the intrusion.

  She must have really pissed him off for him to do that.

  He pulled back and smiled a snake's smile. "The marks on your face shall be a reminder. Maybe next time you'll think twice before you draw my blood."

  He brought her over to the bed, the mattress dipping as they sat. A cold, damp hand glided down her back and her entire body stiffened at the contact. Since she'd become trapped there, Azmodeous controlled every aspect of her life down to what she wore to bed, meaning she now slept in a skimpy nightie each evening.

  Beside her, Azmodeous wore black, silk pajamas. After a couple months of his pressuring she'd had to give him something, so she'd consented to sleep in his bed each night. It only served to shove the dagger deeper into her heart.

  He'd continued to pressure her, but she'd drawn the line at sleeping in the same bed. She'd convinced him she was still traumatized from her time with the "savage

  Combatant."

  She hated herself for lying and telling the king that Westin had forced himself on her, but he had already taken so much from her that she couldn't let him take that, too.
>
  So, every time he started touching her in a way that suggested more to come, she put on the face of a victim, which wasn't hard, and told him she couldn't, not yet.

  Victim.

  The word had never applied to Sunny before, but now, that was what she was.

  It had been eight long months since their failed escape attempt. Over those months, Jo and Sunny were supposed to be planning the king and Sunny's Match ceremony. Instead, they'd been postponing, trying to drag it out as long as possible.

  They were running out of time.

  Sunny's instincts were telling her the king wouldn't tell them when the Match ceremony would be. He would just wake her up one day saying, "Today's the day." And then she'd be screwed.

  Well. . .more screwed than she already was.

  Sunny wouldn't be able to say no. Not only because the king could control her, but also because of Jo.

  Sunny was utterly powerless.

  She couldn't help but think that everything had come full circle. The hate in her heart festered and boiled to the surface as she had come to realize that it had been how Westin felt. How he had been controlled by the king.

  By her.

  How the king was using her and her sister now. The king used Jo and Sunny against each other. If

  Sunny didn't do exactly as the king asked, Jo would be punished. Or vice versa. The king had them on a tight leash that was getting tighter and tighter.

  She honestly didn't know what the king was waiting for, but she knew it was something big. Westin once told her "the gods" must've been watching over her. She hoped that was true.

  The king's soft voice brought her back to the present. "Sorry, Eleyna, I promise I'll work on my temper. I'm just not used to you being so. . .fragile."

  He tried to say the word with remorse, but Sunny knew him well enough now that she heard the hungry excitement in his voice. She'd never cried in front of him before, and he thought she was breaking. That he would soon have complete control over her.