Jewell fumbled with the zipper of her dress, but the tab kept escaping her grasp. ?Come on!? Her fingers felt clumsy and numb. Her arms were heavy. In a fit of frustration, she tried to pull the dress up over her head instead, causing her crown to go tumbling to the ground. The dress was too tight. She pulled at the fabric furiously, tearing at it, before finally yanking it back down.
This wasn?t working and the zipper wasn?t working and her fingers weren?t working and her brain wasn?t working. Her chest started to heave, and the beginning of tears stung the corners of her eyes. She planted her palms on the cool surface of the bathroom vanity and tried to take deep breaths.
She had to be calm. She could not fall apart. Not over this. Not after she had kept it together all week.
This was nothing.
But it didn?t feel like nothing.
It felt worse than the throbbing of her calf where Hope had hit her. Worse than the sharp pain that started in her clavicle and shot down to her fingertips every time she moved. Worse than the fear of knowing that the evil cult--the ones who had her true name and had violated her mind, body, and soul last year--was alive and well in the city.
It felt like Kal had stabbed her in the back the second he offered Hope his blade against her.
Sure, they had briefly discussed the possibility of it happening at dinner the other night. Jewell just hadn?t thought it would feel so personal. She hadn?t thought that he would actually do it. She hadn?t thought it would hurt so bad when he did do it.
A shudder ran over her petite frame. She didn?t want to think about it. She wanted to get into the bath. The water would wash away the filth of the duel and soothe her bruises, aches, and pains. All her pains. It would calm her down. It would make her feel better.
Just get in the bath and everything would be okay.
Only she couldn?t get her damn dress off!
She tried again. The zipper budged a little before snagging on the silk. She stomped her foot and growled out a fitful stream of curses, ?**** **** **** ****!?
That was when the tears began in earnest. Jewell sunk down to sit on the edge of the tub, curled forward, and buried her face against her folded arms.
Then she cried.
This wasn?t working and the zipper wasn?t working and her fingers weren?t working and her brain wasn?t working. Her chest started to heave, and the beginning of tears stung the corners of her eyes. She planted her palms on the cool surface of the bathroom vanity and tried to take deep breaths.
She had to be calm. She could not fall apart. Not over this. Not after she had kept it together all week.
This was nothing.
But it didn?t feel like nothing.
It felt worse than the throbbing of her calf where Hope had hit her. Worse than the sharp pain that started in her clavicle and shot down to her fingertips every time she moved. Worse than the fear of knowing that the evil cult--the ones who had her true name and had violated her mind, body, and soul last year--was alive and well in the city.
It felt like Kal had stabbed her in the back the second he offered Hope his blade against her.
Sure, they had briefly discussed the possibility of it happening at dinner the other night. Jewell just hadn?t thought it would feel so personal. She hadn?t thought that he would actually do it. She hadn?t thought it would hurt so bad when he did do it.
A shudder ran over her petite frame. She didn?t want to think about it. She wanted to get into the bath. The water would wash away the filth of the duel and soothe her bruises, aches, and pains. All her pains. It would calm her down. It would make her feel better.
Just get in the bath and everything would be okay.
Only she couldn?t get her damn dress off!
She tried again. The zipper budged a little before snagging on the silk. She stomped her foot and growled out a fitful stream of curses, ?**** **** **** ****!?
That was when the tears began in earnest. Jewell sunk down to sit on the edge of the tub, curled forward, and buried her face against her folded arms.
Then she cried.