Untamed {Mature Reading}

Chapter XXXIX

Bianca hated the way embarrassment and shame churned within her as she made her way back to her room. Callum did not follow her and the priestess was glad of it. The sight of him had been painful as it is, but to have faced him twice, raw and vulnerable and to be denied again and again was too much to bear.

Her room, which had long since become a haven rather than a prison, did not offer her the comfort she had sought. If anything, Bianca looked around the small room with its freshly lit fire and could only think of him.

Because Callum was everywhere. Gods, he surrounded her.

Everywhere she looked, she saw little pieces of him. The Lockhart tartan dress he had given her, the Gaelic books of childish and hopeful fairy stories, the small table where he had willed her to eat when she wanted nothing more than to waste away. The bottom of the bed where he had stood, looking at her when she had been at her lowest, broken and bruised - all at the hands of Grey.

Grey.

The name, even uttered solely in her mind, made the priestess shiver. She had never encountered true evil, but the English Lord would have to be the closest thing to it that she wished to ever meet. Now that she knew it had been him, the attacker with the soft hands, Bianca wondered why she had not known from the start.

Her mind was exceptionally loud with thoughts that only proved to haunt her, make her restless. This morning seemed like a lifetime ago where she had stood at the window, watching as Callum waited at the altar for his bride. She had through, that by stopping the wedding she had been doing some good but now, standing alone in her room Bianca felt empty, lost and no better than before.

She needed silence, some sliver of peace. And so, the priestess moved towards the lit fire. She knew the people of these lands, those who believed in the one god, dropped to their needs in prayer. That they made hand motions and utter specific words to seek an audience - for their words to be heard.

It was a strange concept to her - the rituals and the motions to speak to one's higher beings. She had always believed that the gods heard all, even that which is unspoken. They knew of what Bianca needed before she truly understood herself.

And yet, the priestess dropped to her knees by the fire, hands clasped together and squeezed her eyes shut.

Please, Danu she thought. Please Mother, guide me.

She did not know how long she had knelt by the fire, hands clasped together, silently begging for the Mother Goddess to make herself known. But all Bianca could hear was the crackling of the fire, all she could feel were the flame's warmth. In time, she slowly opened her eyes, ignoring the sting within them.

"Fine," She whispered to the flames, her voice at odds with the heat of the fire, rising stiffly. "Do not speak to me."

The priestess turned away, dejected. Her mind felt like a mess of thoughts, her heart an even worse state. Not only had she to deal with the rejection from Callum, Bianca had also been rejected from her gods.

Her gaze caught sight of her reflection in the looking glass and winced. She had not yet had a chance to bathe and change - leaving her quite a sight. Carefully, Bianca fingered the crown of her hair, the locks matted and knotted. Her dress, dirty and torn, was still crusted with blood at the bodice.

Weary, she began to loosen the laces of her dress, frustratingly tugging when they did not give immediately.

"Droch chrích ort," She cursed, reverting back to her native tongue. "Go hIfreann leat!"

A cursed end upon you. To hell with you. 

"Remind me to never get on your bad side."

Bianca spun, making a choked noise of surprise in the back of her throat. Seeing Alec leaving against the frame of her door, arms crossed his chest and brow raised made her face suddenly feel hot.