Ch. 28

“Control”

The water is cold, but it’s familiar chill, like the stone walls of the castle where memories were lost to — walls that never felt like home. I try to edge myself deeper into the tub, knees pulled close, as if I can hide from the way I am still clawed at by my old memories. My mind drifts back, unbidden, to the last time I escaped those walls. I had thought that night would be my first taste of real freedom. The mud on my boots, the sting of wind against my face, and the electric thrill of stepping into Faymore with no one to hold be back.

But what I can recall vividly isn’t the village, or the people, or even the escape itself — it is the cold dread that settled in me once I was dragged back. I don’t remember how it happened, but Mother’s rage was a servant, fierce and unforgiving, and I was tossed in the eye of it. I can’t remember who found me, only the emptiness of Mother’s mauve eyes, like I had torn something fragile. Her disappointment struck harder than her anger. That disappointment has lingered ever since, haunting me like a second shadow.

Now here I am, willingly going back. And not just to the castle itself, but to her, to the one who’s held me on a leash since I was a child. Part of me wants to prove to her that I’m more than she thought, that I’m no longer the reckless girl she once dragged back, covered in mud and shame. Maybe if I show her what I have learned, the strength I have gathered, she’ll finally see me as more than her failed experiment.

But there’s another part of me — one that I can’t ignore — that wonders if going back will only tighten the chains I have fought so hard to escape. If Mother’s control was a prison, then perhaps this quest to prove myself is just another set of bars, disguised as purpose.

Devlyn’s voice breaks through my constantly drifting mind, and I realize she’s looking at me, one eyebrow raised. “So, you really spiked the guard’s food that night? Where did you get purple mushroom roots, anyway?”

Her question pulls me back, and I manage a smirk. “Plenty of potion books in the Grand Library, as you know.”

But her question lingers, stirring memories I have buried. I can still see those roots in my hand, my fingers shaking with a mix of excitement and fear. Back then, I’d felt so alive, believing I was finally taking control of my own story. And now, as I sit here, feeling my body thaw in this too-small tub, I wonder if I’m truly free, or if I’m just following another path, she’s paved for me.

“Sleeping potions are a hell of a lot easier than trying to climb down the stone.” I whisper more to myself than to Devlyn. Feeling the recognizable tug of memories as they drift back to me, hazy but persistent.

My hand traces over a faint scar just below my elbow. It’s small, but I remember the sharp pain from the ground that caught my fall. Scrambling down with reckless determination, completely unprepared. And then… the memory stirs, replaying once more, like a whispered dream. Someone else was there.

He was… warm. I close my eyes, straining to hold on to the details, but the figure remains blurred, his features melting like shadows in the corners of my mind. All I can remember is his touch — gentle, steadying, grounding me in a way that felt foreign and safe all at once. There was a quietness to his warmth, something grounding, as if his presence alone could keep the world at bay. But even now, I can’t see his face. Only that feeling lingers, slipping further away each time I reach for it, a part of me aching to remember him fully.

As my hand moves past my elbow, my fingers catch my eyes. Purples dancing with pinks in between them. Zanir, his warmth, is different, raw and consuming, an intense heat that feels like it could scorch me if I drift too close. Where the other man’s warmth had been a flicker in the dark, Zanir’s presence is like a blazing fire, so alive and unyielding that I feel as though I am drawn to it against my better judgement.

The two men are worlds apart — one a memory, dim and unsteady, like a fragment of light caught between darkened walls, the other a constant presence, capable of piercing through the coldest parts of me, calling to something in my bones. Why can I remember so little of one yet feel every inch of the other?

I clench my fists, frustration curling in my chest. His whispers of reassurance I can’t quite recall — should mean something. But it is Zanir warmth that has stirred these memories loose, filling my days, that wildness, like a storm I can’t outrun. One that might just absorb me whole if I let it.

And yet, the ache to know who that man was gnaws at me. It is as if his memory slips further each time I try to grasp it, leaving only that fading warmth — a fragment of something long lost. A part of me wants to reach back, but another part, the part that has spent years behind those castle walls, tells me to let it go.

“Farrah nearly ripped the two guards into pieces when your mother realized you were gone,” Devlyn says, her voice like a beacon for me to follow to escape the never-ending noise in my skull.

I motion my hands around my face, gliding my index fingers first at the top of my head and down my cheeks. “Some people are more easily persuaded now than when I was younger. So, of course, I was able to gather supplies and figure out a simple sleeping potion.” Once my fingers pass my eyes, I notice they are no longer purple, but rather a pale pink against my snow-like skin. “Oana…”

I know Devlyn is choosing to ignore my previous statements. If she chooses to ignore it, then she doesn’t know. I scoff, a flicker of pride igniting within me. I’m pretty proud of all of this and unsure why I didn’t think of it sooner… Although maybe I have. Decades struck inside, trapped in those walls, and yes, Oana gave me ideas, but she didn’t know I was planning on leaving. Nyx, I bet she is pissed.

Devlyn doesn’t miss a beat as I am once again lost in thought and keeps her long dramatic play through of the last few days — weeks? Shit, I don’t know. “The guards passed the fuck out conveniently while Halfy was hunting for a midnight snack. Wickedly smart creature you are.”

Timing is everything. After a few — or maybe a lot — of failed missions of leaving the castle walls, I had to learn how to be crafty.

I have been alive for almost three decades, and I’m still under lock and key. Much like the beast inside. No. I shake my head. This is different. We are different. Devlyn’s hands falling to her sides snap me back to the present.

“You then proceed to steal food that was supposed to be for an extremely important breakfast the next morning,” she says, as her face scrunches with a hint of amusement.

I can’t help but grin, the corners of my lips curling upward. “It’s not just about the power that courses through me, it’s about strategy. While everyone was worried about the guests, we were going to be hosting, and seeing me as a chaos to stay away from. They forget I read. I have a brain that has pricked through every book in the Grand Library, that I can mix potions, weave spells, and understand the principles of magic that other struggle to grasp.”

Having a powerful witch as a best friend helps…

I lean forward, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But they only ever seen the girl with the uncontrollable power. They don’t see me, they never after, so they miss the girl — the one who devised clever plans to escape, who knows the weaknesses of those guards better than they know themselves. I have earned my cleverness through years of confinement.”

A gleam of irritation crosses my mind. It is a bitter thought, one that stings as I remember all those dismissive glances, the way others skirt around me, their fear palpable. I have often been seen as a weapon, like a sharp sword, a force of nature to be contained rather than a person to be understood. But I am more than that. I am sharp, resourceful, and I refuse to let their perception bind me any longer.

“Maybe they should know me better,” I muse, “when I return to the castle, maybe even the woman who holds my leash should, too.”

The warmth of resolve fills me, a moment of hope kindling in the coldness surrounding my heart. I’m not just a prisoner in the castle, I am a woman ready to prove myself, ready to take control of my own narrative. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll show them all the complexities that make me who I am.

“I crumbled the fresh bread in my satchel before I could even eat it.” I say as I tilt my head back, my black hair barely grazing the water’s surface. I wonder where my satchel even is now. I long forgot about it. “Oh, I almost ate a moth, though, but thankfully chose against it.”

I’m still cold. My skin is prickly, and even my fingers seem paler than normal, expect for the spots of pink blooming like bruises. I know I am warming the water. I can feel it. But why am I still cold?

“A moth, a bug, and you?” Devlyn chuckles slightly.

I shoot her a sharp glance. Nyx, bugs are gross. They can exist over there somewhere, away from me and my mouth.

Devlyn keeps the story moving, not leaving long for pauses, as if telling a tale only told at campfires. “Then you fly through the night, going further and further away from the castle. Coming across simple creatures, other than the Varcolac and that… white stag. I haven’t seen one of those before. I can’t remember what those are called.” Her eyebrow burrow together, making the edges of her face even harder. “Be sure to tell Oana about that we get home. To see if there is any literature on those.”

Home.

The word settles heavily in my chest, stirring a mixture of warmth and longing. That was my home, even if I felt like a bird in a cage — well, like all the time. I have to remind myself that it’s still a part of me, a place filled with memories, both cherished and painful.

As the water laps against my skin, I think about how the castle was a sanctuary and a prison, the walls whispering both protection and confinement. I think of the fleeting moments of freedom I grasped, like when I climbed down the wall, feeling the rush of air and the thrill of escaping the watchful eyes of Mother. But those moments always ended with a crushing reality — the despair of returning home to her wrath.

“Maybe I was meant to fly, to discover the world beyond those stone walls,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. “But the moment I spread my wings, I found myself being pulled back… again.”

Devlyn tilts her head, sensing the shift in my tone. “Mihaela, you got out. You are not a prisoner of your mother’s making.”

“Am I?” I counter, allowing a trace of bitterness to seep into my words. “Even now, I am returning to her side. I’m still shackled, willing to walk back into that cage to prove I can be more than what she sees. That I’m not just a dangerous power to be contained or used.”

I sigh, closing my eyes, wishing the cold would leave my bones and warmth would fill the emptiness within me. It is time to redefine what home means, to carve out a space where I can be both the girl she fears and the woman I want to be.

Devlyn sits up on the bed now, her expression shifting as she absorbs my words. A knowing smile dances on her lips, her steel eyes glimmering with understanding. “You’re too hard on yourself, Mihaela. Your spirit and your recklessness got you in trouble, yes, but they also brought you here, to this moment. Think about it — you were searching for something, even if you didn’t know what it was then.”

I nod slowly, letting her words sink in. The warmth from her smile spreads, mingling with the memories that rise like the surrounding steam.

“Sometimes we need to get lost to find ourselves,” she continues, her voice steady. “You might have stumbled into a dangerous encounter, but you also proved your worth, even if it was only to yourself.”

A flicker of pride warms me again. I lean back, letting my head rest against the edge of the tub, my hair falling outside of it. I close my eyes, lost in my constant working mind.

“I can’t keep running away.” I whisper. “I have to face it head-on.”

Devlyn tilts her head, clearly intrigued, and I see her mind working, probably envisioning how she would have navigated my past adventures. Then she dives back into the storytelling, picking up where we left off.

“So, after that minor incident, you fly through the night and somehow stumble across a meeting between a fucking shadow- wielding vampire and Muma Padurii. The damn mother of the forest. You mistakenly interrupt that, and even worse, you get caught. Shame on you, by the way.”

My lavender eyes jump to her wide with the sudden dissolve of her normal controlled figure, but it is quickly replaced as my soul jumps down a few levels at her words. Pride cracked.

“Curiosity killed the cat, or bat — well, not really, I guess…” I state as my mind trails off. My fingers and toes feel like pins and needles from the cold.

“Then, in order to not be eaten or possibly killed — or let Kiza out,” she scowls.

I shudder at the thought of its name…

“You bit the shadow vampire and took something from him, leaving him… harmless…” Her eyes flash to me while I’m brushing the knot out of hair now, my feet dangling out of the small tub. “Although, he can make you squirm, it seems. Much like when you see an Anansis, maybe even more so.”

I cut her a glare and hiss. “I hate those creepy-crawling things.”

Devlyn laughs lightly, the sound warm and inviting. “See? You’re proving my point. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Most people run from them.”

I feel a renewed sense of determination as we dive deeper into the story of my last few days.