Chapter 11
Tina, lying on her stomach on the arch bridge, turned her head to see Damon.
He sat with his side to her with his eyes on the child, woman and man playing with a toy sailboat two bridges away.
She dipped her hand into cold water, her movement stirring the pink petals of cherry blossoms, and rested her cheek on the worn-out wood. When she had appeared in Damon’s world again, he was already sitting on the grass, leaning against the trunk under the pink halo of the cherry tree. He hadn’t acknowledged her arrival and despite her urge to rush to him, the way he stiffened when she took a few steps in his direction made her decide to leave him alone for the time being. She tried to walk into the city visible over the walls of the garden, intending to find those ‘mirrors’ again, but she hit an invisible wall before the arches.
Something rustled and she peeked over to see Damon standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Fascinated, she watched the way the muscles in his arms, back and side moved under the thin white shirt as he swung his body first left then right. She shook her head; this was not the time to admire Damon’s physical fitness. She should be used to seeing beautiful, well-toned bodies by now; everybody around her had one, and even her flabby stomach and generous hips had changed under Uriel’s sword practice, her body becoming more flexible and firm. She rolled onto her back and used her arms as a pillow, staring through the branches full of white blooms at the clouded sky, while she discreetly kept glancing at Damon.
Damon finished with his exercise and with his arms akimbo gave her a hard, long gaze before he turned on his heel and strode past the joyful group of three, which still played by the pond.
Tina, for a moment, pondered whether to follow him or not, but then she jumped up and, over the soft grass that tickled her bare feet, rushed after Damon.
He strode between the trees and bushes, his form disappearing from Tina’s view occasionally until she lost him completely by the gazebo, which looked like it was made out of lace.
She was about to turn around and return to the pond when a shimmer caught her eye. She walked to it and touched it. Like the time before, something pulled her inside, but this time she didn’t find herself transformed into another space; this time the space was still moving around her.
Transparent shapes of men with weapons in their raised hands charged past her and crashed against the warriors waiting for them. The noise of voices screaming, crying and the clashes of blades filled her ears, while the smoke and stench of death filled her nose. It was hard to breathe and her knees buckled. She had to squat down. She pulled the collar of the oversized shirt she used for sleeping over her nose, her hands curling around the edge of it, her knuckles turning white. She felt sick and weak, the same feeling that had overcome her when she had glimpsed Damon’s memories for the first time, a side effect of the mental connection.
Her arms covered her head when a shadow appeared over her. A horse jumped over her head, the rider’s black hair floating in the wind as his sword slashed here and there, the blood spraying around. Drops of it landed on her, a transparent illusion that she could actually feel, not as a warm wetness, but as specks of dust that tickled her skin. And then the battle before her started to crack like a stone under hammering. It changed into dust and the wind blew it away, leaving behind a tiny and badly lit room with uneven walls made out of clay.
In the left side of the small, poor looking and run-down cottage, two people sat on the woven straw mat in front of the fire burning in a central pit.
Tina touched the ground, surprised when the packed earth wasn't as cold as she expected. She glanced up at Damon who stood with crossed arms next to the opening in the wall, half covered with the straw mat. A sad smile played on his lips.
This memory was important to him, why? Her eyes slid to the pair before her again, to the boy with silver and copper decorating the tail of long hair, the collar of his embroidered tunic, his belt, his boots and woven around his forearms. He belonged more in the rich halls of the palace that in this cottage.
Tina scratched her neck, tempted to comment to Damon that she had never known he had dressed so flashily in the past.
The girl offered the stick with something, meat probably, skewered on it to the young Damon. Strands of unclean hair hung over her temples and her fingers, which constantly tucked her shoulder-length hair behind her ear and left smudges on her cheeks. Her ragged clothes looked shapeless, their colour unrecognizable, so different from the colourful outfit of the boy beside her. She said something to Damon and then giggled at his reply.
Tina in that moment knew. “It’s Trinity.” And she didn’t know that because of the laughter coming from the girl’s mouth, but from the way the boy’s features softened and from his eyes, which stared almost yearningly at the girl. It was the same look Damon had given Tina when Trinity still inhabited her soul.
“Yes, it’s Trinity,” Damon took two steps forward. He squatted down before the fire and reached out until his fingers hovered over the girl’s face.
“She looks so small and thin, and so childlike.” And she didn’t look like anything special. Tina had expected Trinity to be beautiful, but she was just an ordinary looking girl, dirty and dressed in rags.
“She is only thirteen years old. And in the past people weren’t as tall as they are now. They died very young, too.” Damon caressed Trinity’s face. “That’s why my kind were like gods to them.”
“What is this? It looks like a date. Is this your first date?” Tina crawled closer. She poked the young Damon’s shoulder, but as before her finger dipped into his body as if he was air.
“Sort of,” Damon said.
Tina glanced at him. She had expected him to ignore her questions, but he was turning out to be surprisingly talkative. She rested her hands on her knees. “Trinity didn’t tell me a lot about your common past, but she said that she met you when you tried to kill her brother and she jumped in.” Trinity had also told her about her family, how much they’d loved each other and what doting parents she’d had, which in a time when children helped in the fields as soon as they could walk was the exception, not the rule.
“Yes, something like that. I mistook him for a warrior, but he was just defending his family. It’s good that I didn’t kill him; with Trinity’s father being sick, her older brother was the main provider and if anything had happened to him, the whole family would have starved, and she would have hated me,” Damon said. “Well, she did for a short while after she learned that I had bought her.”
“You bought her? She never told me that.”
“Her family was against it at first, but then the price, the promise that they would still be able to see her, and the threat that if they didn’t agree I would take her by force persuaded them.”
“You were quite a villain as a teenager,” Tina said even though the boy's gentle features betrayed none of the blood-thirst she had seen the last time she had been in Damon's head, the time she had seen Damon change into the beast.
Damon sat back on his heels. “And I still am. For some people.”
Tina rubbed her temples. Yes, he still was. “Sometimes I forget how dangerous you really are.”
“Don’t look so troubled, I’m not going to hurt you.”
He already had, just not physically. “You must have loved her very much.”
“Enough to let her have her way and set her free. What a mistake.” Damon's hands curled and his jaw tensed.
In the light of fire Tina could see something reflecting in his eyes, something that resembled tears about to fall, but they didn't. Her fingers itched to touch him, the urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders so strong that she had to press her forearms against her chest otherwise they would have reached out for him on their own. She averted her eyes and focused on the play of the flames. It seemed that the more time she spent in Damon's company, the stronger her feelings got. “She loved you, too, very much. And she blamed herself for how things turned out -- she told you that.”
“If I had waited a little longer, she would still be alive.” Damon pulled himself up. “But instead...”
Tina could feel his gaze, so intense that it gave her goosebumps, but she refused to raise her head and look at him. Yes, she was here instead of Trinity and she was the one who bore the mark of his Beloved now.
“I wish I could hate you.”
Tina's fingers dug into the fabric of her shirt. He could be so brutal sometimes; he behaved like she was a doll without any feelings at all. “I wish I could hate you, too.” But she could be as cruel as well. “Actually I do, sometimes.”
“Yes, I imagine you do.”
She furrowed her brows at the gentle tone of his voice and when she faced him, she found him absently staring at the fire. She opened her mouth to say that she didn't really mean it, that she was lying, but then changed her mind. It didn't matter to him if she meant it or not.
She stood up and stepped outside. She put a hand above her eyes, to protect them from the lone ray of light that forced its way through the clouds. She looked at the forest that framed the small clearing. She could see smoke coming from somewhere beyond, and here and there she caught a glimpse of people rushing across the clearing before they disappeared between the scattered cottages. She wrapped her arms around her middle. She felt cold and she wanted to go home. Muriel!
A soft sound distracted her and turned her head.
It was Damon, he joined her. He took hold of her wrist and when she tried to wiggle it out of his hand, his fingers gripped her almost painfully.
“You are hurting me.”
He loosened his grip slightly, but his hands still firmly held hers as he pulled her behind him.
“Where are we going?”
They passed the storm of violence and scorched ground of the battlefield and arrived back at the garden.
“Where are we going?”
“To have tea.” He finally answered her as he released her and without stopping, he looked over his shoulder. “Hurry up.”
She wasn’t in the mood for tea, but she followed him toward the gazebo anyway and let him seat her on the silken pillows scattered around the low table, while he sat down on the opposite side.
“Why are you even bothering with me? I thought you would continue ignoring me.” Tina piled the pillows behind her before she reclined backwards, interested in why Damon had brought her here.
“That wouldn’t make you go away.”
“Your hospitality is astonishing, especially since I’m not an uninvited guest.”
Damon put his elbows on the table. “You have gained some attitude since I saw you last.”
“The Dumes are good for my self-confidence.”
He lifted his brows, and Tina thought he was going to say something, but at that instant, from nowhere, a servant appeared with a tray in her hands. She put a steaming pot, two cups and small plates and bowls on the table before she signalled her departure with a bow.
Tina looked over the tiny, colourful sweets and when Damon poured tea for them, the atmosphere reminded her of their tea parties. A lot of things had happened since then. She took the tiny shallow bowl he offered, with a ball made out of tea leaves swimming in the hot liquid, and nursed it in her hands. “I know that now that Trinity is gone you have no use for me. But...” She sighed. “I can’t go away, no matter how much you dislike my company.” She gave him a troubled look. “Not until we free you.”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
“We don’t know, yet.” The crease between her brows became deeper. How could he be so calm? Always so composed, except that time? “I hate how you behave like this doesn’t concern you. This is your life we are talking about.”
He took a sip of the tea and put it on the table before he spoke up. “I don’t care about my life anymore.”
It’s hard to go on if there is nothing to hold on to, she remembered Uriel’s words. Is that what had happened to Damon? She placed the decorated ceramic on the table. She felt his pain, his despair. That was exactly what had happened to him. He had lost his focus, his reason. She wanted to reach out for him, to touch him and say, I can become your something, your focus, your reason, if you would only let me -- Why did she have to feel that way? She didn’t want him. She actually didn’t want him, she just forgot that sometimes. And even if she did, it wasn’t like he would open his arms to her and they would all live happy ever after. She snorted.
“What?”
He might not have anything to hold on to, but he was a capable man and if he truly wished for death, he would be already dead. “I never took you for somebody who would willingly let himself sink to the level of an object, to become nothing more than” -- she paused, searching for the right word to use -- “a power booster.”
He raised his brows. “Should this rile me up?”
Yes, it should. Her gaze fell on the ball that had started to open into a rose in the hot water. “Why have you brought me here?”
“To have a talk with you.”
“About what?”
“Nothing in particular, just to kill some time. I’m actually quite bored. ”
Why did she even bother? She let out a tired sigh and her fingers slid over the edge of the bowl. “I wish you would take more interest in what's going on around you. You could at least help us, just make a little effort.”
He leaned his chin into his palm. “And how am I supposed to help? If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in the best shape.”
“You weren't unconscious the whole time and you might have seen something that would tell us where you are.”
“I didn't.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because all that I saw was the ceiling of a tunnel and walls of a cave.”
“What kind of ceiling was it? Was it man-made? Or natural?” When he stayed silent Tina moved even closer; the edge of the table cut into her stomach. This was like trying to get Haniel’s attention when he was in the middle of a game. A mission impossible. “Don’t look at me like that. Every little detail can help.”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly of sound mind, was I?”
“You had to have noticed something. Anything?” Please, she silently prayed, let there be something. She needed to rescue him quickly, before her emotions for him escalated even further, before she got too attached to him and before she got hurt too deeply. Even now, as she stared at him she wanted to reach out for him, she wanted -- no, needed to feel his skin under her fingertips.
“I am filled with drugs and my body is weak, the only place I feel sane is” --he made a half circle with his hand -- “in here. I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is.”
He was taking his helplessness quite well, too well. Or was that just on the surface? While she... Her forehead touched the table’s surface and she closed her eyes. “It’s hopeless then. We spend so much time running around like fools, looking for Petsha, for you, but come out with nothing.” The only thing that they had was one lousy Shadow, Nat’s suspicions about the spy and Irene’s empty promises that Tristian would definitely find something in his search for Shadows. And they also had Damon’s stalker, the girl who had waited in ambush before the door of Prva’s estate, and whose men Nat intended to use in drawing Petsha’s spy out, without really explaining to Tina how he intended to do that.