Prick Of Punishment || Hael

I felt the bite of the needle as it penetrated my skin. It didn't hurt. It couldn't. The blows I'd endured to my sanity over the years had been far worse than any trauma that could be dealt to my body. The skin on my biceps was thick and scarred. Some injuries I'd provoked from others. Some self-inflicted. Any pain I could cause myself gave me some semblance of control in a world where fate resided on a shelf no human hands could reach. 

I remained stoic while I soaked in the bath, Reyin working on me with warm fingers against my skin. Soft and deft they were. There was a slight tremble to them, and I fought the urge to stare at him.

Reyin did not want me looking at him.

And I did not deserve to. 

The needle entered my skin again, with more pressure this time, and I was certain Reyin had intended for it to hurt. That was fine. I would welcome any pain he could cause me. I deserved to hurt for all the hurt I'd caused him. I deserved to be punished.

And what punishment was greater than at the hands of the one you loved most?

The next poke of the needle was so severe that my arm jerked despite myself, and only then did I slide my neutral gaze to Reyin, my heart vibrating with nerves when I found him staring at me.

"Hurts?" he asked.

I nodded somberly, but not because of the pain. Because of the blossoming hatred in his eyes whenever he looked upon me. It was a knife wound in my heart, perpetually bleeding. If there were tears in my eyes the next time he met my gaze, would he pity me enough to care about me?

Could he love me without understanding me? Or did he need to understand why I'd done all that I had to love me again?

Reyin's grip on my arm tightened, and he returned to work. "Good."

I turned my head forward and allowed him to finish without the weight of my yearning on him. The power of my recovery was in his hands. He could botch the stitches—do them in a way that guaranteed infection or a hideous scar on top of the many I already had. But Reyin was too good to do anything like that. Too good for me. His heart had always shone brighter than mine if mine had ever had any light at all.

"Finished," he whispered. He cleaned my arm and secured a bandage firmly around it. Then his gaze lifted timidly, expectantly. 

And I observed him. I'd frightened him earlier when I'd killed that man in broad daylight, mercilessly abandoning his bleeding body to rot in the dirt. The man had deserved it for abandoning Rhed to carry out his goals of heinous crimes. The slash across the brand on his nape had indicated such. 

There was a hefty bounty on Reyin's delicate head, only to be rewarded to members of the organization. He was to be retrieved and delivered safely to the leader of Rhed. Unscathed. And a reward would be given in exchange. I knew that due to Reyin's infinite value if the ex-member had spotted him, he would have tried to snag Reyin for his own malicious, personal gain. I'd done what was necessary to protect Reyin, but I did regret prompting this look of terror whenever my eyes moved to him. I would never hurt him.

Ever. 

I needed him to understand that. 

The man I'd killed had murdered dozens anyway. Everyone in the organization had killed before. Those are what the brands across every nape symbolized. The elusive leader sought out the criminally unjust for their required skills and bent them to their will, adamant about ensuring every member was aware of how many lives they'd taken before initiation. So, my action in killing that man had been just. 

I would not harm active members if not provoked to do so. With them followed the guarantee of kingdoms—structured on the bones of the impoverished and helpless—crumbling to dust. But the moment I set my eyes upon an ex-member who no longer shared that goal, I would voluntarily stain my sword again. What purpose would his meager life serve if not for the goals of the organization? With a slash across his nape, he would no longer be a devil with righteous intent but solely a murderer. And I intended to cleanse this world of murderers, of the unjust. Of the high and mighty who spat at those with less than them. Of the selfish. Of the wicked. 

It was inevitable the same fate would come after me, for I also had a brand on my nape, and it burned deeper into my flesh every day. 

Reyin was standing now, and my eyes slid up to reach him. He looked stuck between being wary and harboring hatred for me. I despised it, but I supposed it was for the best. It would be safer if he hated me. I wasn't good. Trouble and blood crawled beneath my feet, and Reyin was too pure to be dragged through it. The further he desired to be from me, the better. 

Because if at all his eyes changed for me, and his feelings yielded for me again, even for a moment, I would seize his kind heart and selfishly ask him to accompany me on this road to damnation so we could rule alongside each other. I couldn't let that happen. Reyin would lose his sanity, his mind, and everything about him that made him so much better than me.

His heart would bleed the same black as mine. 

So, if hating me was what prevented that, I would continue to bear the weight of the Devil's favor to protect him.

With his caution a tangible thread between us, Reyin awaited my instruction.

I studied him for a moment. "Go to the room. Leave the door unlocked."

He nodded quickly and spun on his heels. When his hand reached the door handle, I quietly said after him, "I hope you are there when I return."

It was not a threat. I wouldn't hurt him. But should he try to run, someone else could. The organization was here; ex and current members, and with the bounty issued over Reyin, they were all actively looking for him. I hadn't expected to come across any members in this remote village residing in territory unclaimed by any of the five kingdoms on this continent. 

Our targets had always been wealthy inner cities of such kingdoms, so there'd never been any reason to venture this far out. However, it seemed I'd been wrong to underestimate the determination the bounty had given the organization's members to locate and retrieve the Prince. The attack on the Avalon Castle had been a distraction to do just that—to pluck Reyin from his home and secure him. I had gotten to him first, but it wouldn't have mattered who found him. He would have always returned to me.

The bounty had ensured that. 

However, because of my most recent negligence, Reyin had almost been spotted.

"I'll be there," he muttered in response to my command.

And he was. Someone had taken my soiled clothes to wash while I'd bathed, and after I'd finished cleansing myself and ordering food to our room, I'd returned. The setting sun peered through the fogged windows, and Reyin was sitting neatly on the bed, the lower half of his face still covered by the sheer cloth I'd secured around it. 

His eyes found mine quickly when I locked the door behind me. I wore the key to our room pointedly around my neck, the metal brushing against my dark tunic, and his eyes noted it briefly before snapping away from me. At the desk, I sat and pulled out my sword to clean.

"You need water and food," I said, dragging a cloth across the drying blood on my weapon. 

"I'm not hungry," Reyin responded, almost too quiet for me to hear.

"The doctor said you need to take your medicine on a full stomach. I'm sure you know how important it is to heed a doctor's orders."

I had provoked him, it seemed, because Reyin was quickly on his feet, and the shuffling of his clothing was prominent in this quiet room. He arrived a space away from me at the desk. And because he wanted my attention, I gave it to him, noting the curiosity in his eyes. But there was also an aura of caution emanating from him in tangible vines, ropes tangling around my heart.

He swallowed visibly, and for a moment, my gaze caught on that scar on his throat. I hadn't been there when he'd gotten it. I hadn't been around to protect him.

"I was an apprentice to an important doctor in my kingdom. But you knew that already," he said cautiously. 

"I did," I confirmed. It tormented me how his eyes widened a frightened fraction. Reyin could hate me, yes, but I did not want him to fear me. I would never hurt him.

"Do you…are there other things you know about me?" he carefully asked, as though he feared my answer.

I lifted my eyes to his, and I couldn't help it. A fond smile tugged at my lips. "I know a lot about you."

His eyes widened some more, curiously nervous as they flickered to my mouth. "Like?"

Like how you worry your bottom lip with your glossy teeth whenever you're thinking—like now—or how you tend to hum the song your mother would sing to us as children whenever you're busy doing something, although you never notice. Or how even though you hate me, even though the Devil has me on a leash, you won't neglect me if I call upon your kind and skillful hands for help. You won't abandon me. Even though we both know you should.

Trust me, dove. I know you.

But I chose to ignore his curiosity, sharpening the edge of my blade on a stone while his gaze swept patiently across me. A knock came at the door, and when I opened it, a large tray of dishes was being delivered to the small table in the corner of the room. I tipped the woman generously for her service and locked the door behind her. Reyin and I shared a look.

Naturally, he was hesitant, if not entirely averse to eating a meal with me. It ached, but I understood. So, I set the dishes I'd ordered for him on the table and brought what remained to the desk. 

"I will sit here," I assured him. 

Reyin studied me, appearing like he might say something, but he disappointed me with a silent nod and walked off. I looked over my shoulder, and his eyes were closed as he prayed over his food. He'd always been dutiful in that way, showing gratitude to God for favoring him. The last time I had ever prayed for anything had been with Reyin. The last time I'd seen him twelve years ago. 

Not a single moment after that.

I knew better than to believe God would lift His ears upon my calls.

By now, I was closer to the Devil than to Him.

We ate in silence, that uncomfortable quiet ensuing even as the sun set and I lit the room with candles. Night came quickly, and with it, a flare of anxiety. When we'd been in the forest, I had left Reyin whenever I needed to sleep—only for two hours at a time. Nightmares plagued me when I slept, brutal flashes of images, blacks and reds clashing behind my eyelids gruesomely. In many of my dreams were faces of the lives I'd taken, and although I'd eradicated monsters, the fear in their eyes before I'd given the final blow had always stayed with me.

A tinge of remorse crept through me as I recognized every evil being had been pure once. Even the Devil. Even I.

Reyin eyed me as I created my sleeping area on the floor at the foot of the tall bed. The same padded mattress I always carried and a thin blanket. I did not get cold easily, so a warmer blanket wasn't required. My makeshift bed wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than resting on the bare floor. I was exhausted, but I didn't intend to sleep. Not while in such close confines with Reyin. 

He watched as I blew out every candle except for the one on the nightstand beside him. I returned to the floor, my long limbs stretching while I lay on my back and listened to the quiet of the room. 

I fought a yawn.

Hoped I would be strong enough to fight my exhaustion as well.