In Her Element
Chapter 25

Almyra wasn’t surprised. Not really. She had wondered when she and Frederick would see each other again. However, she was a bit startled about the turmoil of emotions she felt now that they had.

On the one hand, she felt the sudden urge to run in to his arms and remain there until this was all over. On the other hand…

She was hurt. Still.

She had been fed bits and pieces of what had transpired over the past few centuries for those like her, and the gist of it: she had been manipulated. She was a marionette whose purpose was to serve its master, to amuse the patrons; a puppet, but one that wished for its strings to be cut.

She knew it would never happen. They needed her and her Powers—those cursed powers of hers. Her anger flared as it did whenever she thought of this, and with it, her flames. She hated not having a choice, hated being controlled

Frederick felt his eyes open wide in shock. Almyra’s right hand was red, and he was sure he could see tiny flames flickering at the tips of her fingers.

His instinct told him to run from the imminent danger, but at the same time, he knew he could not, and would not. He stood rooted in place, mesmerized by the power in front of him, coming from so glorious a creature. He took the one small step into the room and turned around to shut the door behind him. Without Almyra in his line of sight—even if turning his back to someone like her was a foolish and dangerous thing to do—he was able to collect himself and his thoughts before facing her again. When he turned back to look at her, her hand was still a fierce red, but the flames were no longer in sight, and had he not known what she could do, he would have been sure he had hallucinated.

She looked upset, and Frederick cursed the situation. He knew coming here would cause her to be distressed, but he had no choice if he wanted to save her, as much as it pained him to hurt her, as he was in the habit of doing.

“What?”

Frederick flinched at the coolness that laced her voice and belied the heat in her hand. He braced himself and took a deep breath, letting his words tumble out of his mouth in a rush, lest she interrupt him before he had a chance to finish. He told her everything he could, starting from way back when he had told Almyra’s mother that Almyra should not spend time with her “friends”, and her mother had always liked Frederick more than the other boys.

He explained that even then they had been sure she was the one and the boys were meant to get close to her and see if the Master was correct.

“…they belonged here. They were a part of this institution, and even then the Master was setting up to build your trust. The only reason he has not pulled you in before was your age. You would not have understood then and possibly you would have been frightened. It would do them no good if you were scared—we could not risk you telling anyone. We could not risk any interference. He could not risk it. Not after all the planning and waiting.

“We—they—were just pawns. He used and uses us to get what he cannot. It’s hard…”

He paused for a moment to take a breath and noticed that she wasn’t listening. She wasn’t listening! Almyra was looking at him oddly, a dazed expression on her face, her arms limp at her sides. Before he could think twice about it, his legs strode across the room, dragging him towards her, and his hands grabbed hold of her upper arms. He pushed her against the wall, ignoring her gasp and the astonished look that had settled on her face.

“You don’t understand, Almyra.” His voice was a hiss, and she shrunk back against the wall as much as she possibly could, and for the first time, Frederick saw her truly afraid, at all and definitely of him. But there was nothing else he could do, no other option. If fear was the only way to get through to her, so be it. He tightened his grip and shook her, though not ungently, until her eyes met his. This, however, backfired on him, for he suddenly found himself nearly drowning in the hazel depths of those soulful eyes, eyes that allowed him a small glimpse into the mysterious young woman in his grasp. And then he could take no more.

“If you don’t get out of here and fast, they will harm you, physically and emotionally, inside and out. They will twist and bend you to their will, and I will not stand for it. I cannot… I cannot…”

Almyra’s eyes were wide, the green and brown hues almost swirling, as he trailed off, and she whispered shrilly, “Cannot what? You cannot what?”

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t have to words to do so. Instead, his hands slid slowly down her arms and around her waist, where he clasped them and pulled her close, tightly. His eyes never leaving hers, his face moved in close until his mouth was so near hers that she felt his breath, nearly tasted it. And then he closed his eyes and before he could regret it, pressed his lips firmly onto hers.

Almyra’s first reaction come to mind was to scream. But the scream would not move past her throat; it lay there, dormant, not reaching her lips, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Frederick’s lips were on them. And yet, at the same time, it had everything to do with his lips, his hands…everything.

And then she had no idea how to act. This was not a familiar situation for her, and she was lost in her feelings—she did not even know what she was feeling. Her thoughts were swirling and incoherent, clumsy.

Frederick seemed to sense this, and he sent a small prodding thought, stroking her, telling her to relax…

She kissed him back. Her mouth parted under his and she felt a flutter in her lower abdomen as he made a noise in his throat that sounded like a cross between a growl and a moan. Again and again their lips met, and Almyra was drowning in the most pleasant and unknown way possible. When she finally had to come up for air, she leaned back against the wall, gasping as Frederick trailed soft kisses over her cheek, to her neck, and Almyra felt a cold loss when he pulled away, even though at the same time she knew that it was wrong, that it should not have happened.

“Oh,” she said in a small voice.

Frederick gave a little chuckle in response to the simple statement, at her inability to formulate words just like he had before, and she blushed. She licked her lips nervously, and his sky blue eyes followed the movement of her tongue with a look that could be described as…hungry. She shuddered, and again he laughed, quietly.

He leaned forward again, his eyes on her lips, and she stood frozen in anticipation and apprehension, but he moved his mouth to her ear and whispered in a husky voice, his cool breath blowing on her ear, “Now will you listen?”

Almyra swallowed audibly and nodded her head—she could not speak, for the shock of she had just done—and she felt his lips as they brushed against her ears. To her wonder, she felt something wet sliding down her cheek, and she realized she was crying, which was not something a girl would do after being kissed, especially by someone like Frederick. He looked at her in surprise and then gathered her into a gentle hug. She leaned into him, into the safety of his arms, and sobbed all the pain, worry, and fear of a really long time out onto Frederick’s shirt, staining it with her salty tears. His arms still around her, he led her to the bed and they sat side by side until she felt ready to tell him all.

A humongous weight was lifted off her heart with the relief of being able to share everything with him. She told him about the dreams that she had every night, both at home and here. She explained that it was the reason that Rupert had been in her room that night. She went into details, telling him about the death of Rupert, possibly at her hand, and the sacrifice. She spoke of her conversation with Matthew in the forest, Matthew, who was now dead. She spoke of her birthmark; she spoke of the King, of his present. She spoke of everything, until it was all let out.