Destroyed, p.1
Destroyed, page 1
Destroyed
Bridget E. Baker
Copyright © 2020 by Bridget E. Baker
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For Jesse
* * *
Sometimes we lose the best people in our lives.
But we never forget them.
Contents
1. Edam
2. Noah
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
7. Mahalesh
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
31. Sample Chapter Finding Faith
32. Appendix
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Bridget E. Baker
1
Edam
My mouth moves along with the numbers. Thirty-two for the small freckle near her thumb, thirty-three for the blotch that looks like a sheep near her wrist. It seems like there are more spots on the back of Mom’s hand every day.
“Are you counting my age spots again?” She lifts one eyebrow.
I gulp and shake my head.
She laughs. “Of course you are.”
“I like them,” I say.
Her strong, wrinkly hand strokes my hair, smoothing it down even though I’m sure it’s not messy. “You have been a tremendous blessing in my life, Edam. You know that, right?”
How could I not? She tells me every day. I nod. “Yes, Mom, I know.”
“It was a shock to me and to your father when I found out I was expecting you. Not many evians have children, once they begin to show signs of age.”
I could tell her this story myself. I wonder whether repeating stories is also a sign of age. “Analessa shouldn’t have killed him.”
“It was time,” Mom says, but her hand trembles, and I know she’s as upset as I am that my sister ordered the execution of my father. “She could have killed me too, and she didn’t.” Mom closes her eyes. “She was merciful and simply relocated me here, to be with you.”
Us. She relocated us here, to a dirty little shed on the perimeter of the palace. “I hate her.”
Mom sits up in bed, her arm snaking around me and pulling me against her chest. Her hands both cover my mouth, as if someone might hear me out here. “Hush, child. Never say that. She’s your sister, and she’s the empress. It’s a hard job, and there aren’t many right answers. With as fast as my body began to weaken, she had no choice but to take dramatic action. If your foolish father hadn’t challenged her, she wouldn’t have had him executed either. We’d all have been removed to live out the rest of our days in peace.”
“You should eat something,” I say. “You’re getting more and more skinny.”
Her smile lights up the entire room, even if the windows are so dirty that the sunlight doesn’t shine very much through them. “Alright. Go and bring my dinner then, sweetheart.”
I skip across the room to the kitchen where the servants left the dinner tray they brought, but when I reach it, I stop short. My hands shake. A rat nibbles on Mom’s sandwich.
Senah Malessa was empress of the second family of Eve for more than nine hundred years, a number so big I can’t even count to it unless I want to spend all day doing it, and now she’s sleeping in a tool shed and sharing her lunch with dirty, grody rats. Anger pulses through me, and I grab the paring knife off the table and plunge it into the rat’s back with a terribly loud scream.
“What’s wrong?” Mom’s legs swing out of bed and she walks toward me. She isn’t supposed to be getting upset. That’s what Phineas said. He said to keep her calm, and let her save her energy. And now she’s walking over here because of me.
Before I can even say sorry, the room tilts and shifts. My body stiffens and my eyesight changes. What’s happening? Everything in our little shed turns red—bright, dark red. Like when I color too long in the same place with the brightest red crayon in the box.
When the front door opens, I snatch the knife from the rat’s back and turn toward whoever is coming inside, my lip curled, my arms held wide. Let them try and hurt me or my mother. I snarl like a wild dog, warning them to back away.
They don’t listen.
The palace guards from the east garden unsheathe their swords. “Put that blade down, boy.”
Something inside me snaps. “I’m not a boy! I’m prince Edam Malessa, son of your empress!” I leap toward the biggest one, my carving knife slashing and jabbing. Muscles bunch underneath the dark skin covering his arms as he grips his sword and shifts his feet. His eyes flash. Some part of me knows that he’ll kill me. I’m a child, and he’s a full grown warrior, and I can’t defeat him.
Only, he’s so slow.
So painfully, unbearably slow.
Slashing him is so easy, and dodging his moves is even easier. Like we’re playing a game and he’s letting me win.
The female guard with the white-blonde hair and the copper skin standing next to him is even slower. In baffled confusion, I slice with the same knife that killed the rat across the man’s hamstrings, and then I keep jogging past him and shove it upward, right in between the woman’s ribs. It slides through easily, and I yank it back out.
Neither of them has even moved—not since I started to attack. And I’ve never had this much fun in my life. Everything is already red, but blood bubbles out where I slash, and it sprays when I slash harder.
Someone’s screaming behind me, but I don’t care. I can’t focus on anything but the blood, the rage, and all the unfair things that keep happening to my mom. To me. And then, without realizing what I’ve done, both guards are completely still. Blood pools around their bodies at an alarming rate. I back away, horrified, and yet also desperate to attack something else, someone else, anything at all.
I’m angry. So angry. My hands shake with it. My teeth grind against one another. My hands clench on the knife, and I lean toward the sword the big man dropped. I could do a lot more cutting and carving with it than with my knife. So much more.
“Edam?” a voice behind me calls softly.
It’s a voice I know, but the rage turns me, not the voice. I leap toward her then, the woman calling me, eager to answer. I wave my knife in warning, knowing it won’t matter that she’s larger than me. She’s even slower than the other two.
“I love you darling, my sweet, sweet son. Your mother loves you, no matter what you do next.”
She loves me.
The world shifts again, the red fading away from the center of my vision.
“You are my light, the best gift I’ve ever received, the joy I never earned and wasn’t worthy of receiving.” Her voice, a voice I know, a voice I love, it keeps talking, keeps naming me. “Ah, Edam. You’re a light in my life. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. No matter what.”
The red disappears entirely, and I sink to my knees. Tears well in my eyes. “Oh, no. What have I done?” I can’t look at her, at my kind, smart mom. She must hate me. I just killed two people—people who did nothing to me. Good people. And that means. . .
I’m evil.
She shuffles over to where I’m kneeling and lifts my chin gently. “Oh, darling, you feel awful I’m sure, and I understand why, but I’ve known this might be your lot in life for a long, long, time.”
What? “I don’t understand.”
She covers my mouth, takes the knife from my hand and drops it into the sink, and then she ushers me into the bathroom. “Shh, now. I’ll explain everything in just a moment.” She points at the tub. “Strip and get in. I’ll take care of the rest.”
I do as she orders, numb, confused, and guilty. Why doesn’t she hate me? I hate me. How could I do that? What happened to me?
I hear her on the phone. “Yes, right away, please.”
Then there’s a long pause.
“Enora.”
I can barely see Mom’s face through the crack from the door. I climb into the tub even though the drain hasn’t been plugged yet, and I watch the bloody water as it circles round and round and then disappears down the drain.
“I won’t keep you for long. I’m sure by now you’ve heard that I’m dying.” A short pause. “Yes, it’s not good. Phineas says weeks, more than likely. But that’s not why I’m calling.” Another brief pause. “No, I have a favor to ask. There’s no one else I can trust, because no one else will understand. I need you to keep this secret, from everyone. Even your warlord, or perhaps especially your warlord if the rumors are true, and I know that’s not a fair demand.”
Mom is quiet again, for longer this time.
“That’s right. You knew my last husband. . . well, my darling son. . . as I hoped, the gift has passed to him.” Mom’s eyes flash. “Yes, it’s a gift. How can you even ask that? She clenches the phone. “And you know my gift as well. He has both.” She snorts. “Of course I’ve confirmed it. I’ve got a disaster here to clean up, and not much time, but I’m worried enough to make time. I’m begging for this favor. I doubt Analessa will keep him, in spite of repeated promises that she will. She doesn’t like keeping things around that might pose a risk, and Edam is too unique not to threaten her. He’s perfectly sweet, bright, kind, and generous, but she won’t see any of that. Not once she figures out what he is.”
Another pause, this one longer.
“Yes, I know purchasing a child who’s nearly four is far outside of the norm, and I know she may have trouble placing him, in spite of his looks and his skill. That’s why I want you to promise to buy him if it comes to that. I can’t bear the thought of him going anywhere else, since I know you’ll recognize his value and understand the need for discretion.”
Mom nods, murmurs thanks, and hangs up.
When she comes through the door, she grins at me affectionately. “You still can’t wash your own hair.” Her laugh sounds sad to me. “Hold still, young man.”
I don’t want to cry—I want to be big and brave and strong—but when she towels me off, hugging me tightly to her chest, the sobs sneak out anyway. “I’m sorry I made a mess in the living room, and I’m sorry that I’m evil.”
Mom only smiles gently at me while she chooses my pajamas and hands them to me. “Do you know what my secret gift is?” She lifts her eyebrows.
I nod. “You heal really, really fast.”
Her smile is the biggest I’ve seen in a long time. “You’re such a smart little boy. Yes, ever since Eve gave birth to her fourth daughter, the most blessed scions of Malessa have healed lightning quick. We don’t tell anyone else, however. No, we keep the information to ourselves. Not every empress has had this ability, but I have it, and so do you, sweet prince.” She kisses my head.
“But when I killed that rat—” I shudder. “Something happened.”
“The first time I saw your father, he was fighting twenty-four warriors,” Mom says. “It was one of the most glorious things I’ve ever seen.”
“Did you save him?” I ask.
Mom laughs. “He was saving me—he had been tasked to kill me, mind you, but he changed his mind. He couldn’t do it, not after seeing me. Because your father was what’s called a berserker. It’s rare, it’s not well understood, and it can be frightening, but it’s another gift, the rarest kind. You’re not even quite four years old yet, and you just defeated two trained warriors easily. Try and imagine what you can do once you’re a trained warrior—when I married your father, everyone thought I had lost my mind. An empress marrying a nobody?” Her eyes aren’t even looking at me—she’s lost in thought, her sky blue eyes focusing somewhere outside of the one window in our shed.
“Mom?”
She jolts. “Sorry, I was caught up remembering. See, sweetheart, a berserker always has one true mate, one person who fills his or her heart with joy, and only that one person can conquer the terrible hunger inside. Only that person allows the berserker freedom over his or her emotions, and their emotions are the key to controlling the thirst. Or that’s what your father called it, the thirst, as if he could never drink enough to satisfy it.”
“I’m not even thirsty.”
Mom laughs again. “Perhaps you’ll come up with your own name, but what I know is that if you find that person, they become your anchor. You’ll need them—and with them, you can find balance. With them, you can find peace.” She taps my chest. “Once you find them, you won’t feel evil anymore. You’ll control that rage inside of you, and you’ll be able to conquer anyone and anything.”
“What if they don’t like me back?”
Mom’s head tilts, her eyes soft. “How could anyone not love you?”
“Because I’m bad and I hurt people.”
Her arms wrap around me, pressing my face against her chest. “You aren’t bad, Edam. You’re a delight. And you don’t hurt people. You react to the overwhelming urges that you don’t understand as anyone would—but think of it like this. An elephant is large and powerful, right?”
I nod.
“Well, if it was scared, and it didn’t understand what it should do, it might step on people or things and damage them, right?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re like that, right now. You’re no more evil than anything that’s large and powerful.”
“I’m small.”
She laughs. “Small and powerful.” She presses a kiss against my forehead. “Perhaps I should have used another analogy. But the point is that, with training and the proper person in your life, you will be a tremendous force for good. No one knows what you might do, who you might save, or to what heights you might climb.”
“I could make Analessa give you back your place.” I scowl my fiercest scowl.
She rubs her hand across my damp hair. “Nothing like that, silly boy. I’m happier here, with you in my arms, than I ever was on that throne.”
“You are?”
“I am. Now, Mom isn’t feeling very well. Any minute now someone will appear, and they’ll ask me a lot of questions. I’m going to lie to them, which is very bad, but no one can ever know, Edam. Every time you kill someone, until you meet this person who will help you to manage things, you’ll lose control again, just like you did this time. So you must do your very best, whatever it takes, not to kill anyone, not until you meet your soul soother, okay? That’s who I was to your father, which is why I allowed him to kill my current husband, who wasn’t a very good person in any case. When you find love, like the kind you’ll offer someone one day, it’s a truly miraculous gift.”
Don’t kill anyone else, no matter what. Don’t let anyone find out what I am. She repeats it three times, as if I won’t remember each one. Mom lies a lot in the next few minutes, telling the guards who come that the man and woman tried to kill me, and she defended me.
I know she says that I’m not evil, and I know she says it’s a gift, but I must be too young to understand how right now.
Because to me, it seems a lot like a curse, and I seem a lot like a devil.
2
Noah
The leaves on the tree in front of me are white, but not like snow or ice cream or a blanket. No, they’re white like the crystals in a sparkling chandelier, like shards scraped from a giant block of ice, or like the teardrops in Mum’s sparkliest earrings.
The leaves shimmer, sparkle, and flutter, almost as if they’re alive. The nearly translucent leaves rustle slightly too, as if blown by a gentle wind, but there’s no air rushing past me, not here, not now. My toes wiggle in the soft grass—vibrant, deep emerald, and a little bit cool. The tree springs from the ground up ahead, towering at the top of a tall hill, and I’m propelled forward by a surprising need to touch it. I start walking, but quickly begin to jog, and then to run. But no matter how quickly my legs move, the tree never draws any closer.
I need to reach it—I’m desperate to reach it.
My brain scrambles for a logical reason that I’m working so hard to reach the tree. It feels as though it’s calling to me, as though it needs me.
I may only be nine years old, but I know that’s crazy.
Probably it’s because Mum’s birthday is in six days, and she would love a few of those leaves. It’s really, really hard to make Mum smile on her birthday—she has everything she wants already. Ish says that, and so does Lin, but this year, I’m going to do it. She’s going to beam when I hand her my gift.
My legs burn from being pushed too hard, but I think the tree is finally a little bit closer.
