Of Thorns and Beauty by Elle Madison
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The side of the mountain isn’t kind as Khijha and I fly down it. I can’t focus enough to see how she is faring; instead, all I feel is blind panic as we careen toward the bottom of the cliff on a frozen slab of ice and snow.
Flurries race all around us, obstructing my vision in a blanket of white. With each glacial mass that is knocked free, our speed increases. We’re sailing faster by the second, hurtling toward the base of the mountains.
I don’t even see that we’re nearing the bottom until I hit the ground with a thud, the several feet of snow beneath me barely cushioning the impact as it forces me forward now.
Khijha’s growls ring out, and I let loose a breath, relieved that she’s still alive and nearby.
I’m scrambling, digging my nails into any surface I can find, but my frozen fingers can’t find purchase. They burn and ache, and I keep sliding until I skitter onto a sheet of pure ice.
A pop and snap ring out, and Khijhana’s growl is cut off by the sounds of splashing and gurgling water.
I dart a frantic look toward the noise, even more terrified than before as the sound of more ice cracking echoes around me.
Falling to my death would have been horrific enough, but no, the world would never be that kind. I’m going to drown instead.
An even louder crunch sounds, and the ice beneath me begins to splinter as my momentum slows.
When I finally come to a stop, the fractures beneath me worsen, and icy water pools all around my frame.
There is nothing I can do, I realize with a swirling of varied emotions.
If I could force my aching body to move, I would crawl away from the danger, but the fissures stretch too far.
It wouldn’t matter anyway. Or so I tell myself as the water deepens and the ice continues to thin.
Madame’s words fill my head.
“You are such a disappointment, Zaina.”
How many times have I replayed that moment? How many times has that memory haunted me?
The ice finally splits wide open, and I drop down into the arctic lake. I take a final gasping breath as it pulls me under, its biting tendrils stabbing at my skin as I thrash and kick and try to make my way back to the surface.
Everything around me is the deepest shade of blue, so blue it is almost black, save for the one fading circle above of rapidly dimming light.
The oppressing glacial temperature freezes each of my joints and muscles, slowing my movements.
The cold burns like fire, setting my skin aflame.
I want to scream out in agony, but I fight to hold the remaining oxygen in my lungs as I continue to sink even deeper to my watery grave.
“You are such a disappointment, Zaina.”I hear her again, and images and scenes of those painful memories come rushing back.
Rose is lying on the ground. Bruises cover her face, and her once-golden hair is sticky with fresh blood pooling from her nose and scalp.
Her chest refuses to rise or fall, and her thick lashes are closed and unblinking.
The pressure in my chest is too much to bear. I’ve reached my breaking point. My mouth opens in a gasp, and the air rushes out of me while frigid water fills and chokes my lungs. I’m suffocating, just like all those people Madame punished.
It’s pure agony.
My vision goes completely black.
I’ve never felt so much pain.
I deserve this.
The stabbing pains grow more intense, and it’s as if knives are piercing my flesh. Then, there is nothing but the memory of the sister I once knew.
I tell myself that Rose is sleeping. Even now she is beautiful, the bruises unable to steal that from her completely. Part of me is relieved. My perfect sister will never have to face another day in this hell we were forced into.
She will never again have to miss the family she was stolen from. Her fate has been kinder, because she didn’t have to face the true horrors that Madame had planned for her future.
Her sentence is over at just eleven years of age.
And now, mine is, too.