The wind responds in my place and his face drops. “Don’t leave me again,” he pants as panic strikes his eyes. “Not again.”
Growling, he pulls his hand into a fist and begins punching the ground. He uses his whole strength, sweat dripping down his skin as I stare in shock and terror. He’s being so violent, tearing up his hand into pieces and I whimper.
Blood runs from his knuckles and his mouth from how hard he bit his lip and he sinks to his knees in the snow. He bellows out into the night, his roars mixing with the howls from the wolves and he tears his shirt up, tossing his head back in agony as the crescent moon shines down on him.
Hanging with his head, he stays there for a couple of minutes before rising. “I’ll find you,” he mutters to himself, “I’ll find you and show you no mercy...” He glances down at his knuckles, cursing before setting off into the direction he came from.
I take the opportunity to run toward the village. He needs some time to get his head straight. We’ll talk about this in the morning but I’m shell-shocked by his behavior, so confused my head’s spinning and I barely see where I’m running. Luckily I end up by the village, about to leave the forest behind me when I stumble over a huge rock.
At least I thought it was a rock, but it turns out to be a sleeping male and I look down in shock as he grunts, rises and begins ringing a bell. Several of the villagers come out of their houses, forming almost a barricade and I stare in surprise.
“What is going on?” I whisper, exhausted from the running and Balthazar’s behavior and now I have to deal with what looks like some kind of a coup. “Why are you all here?”
“You have to go back to him,” Katinka says, wrapping a shawl around her head. “We can’t risk the Tsar losing his mind again.”
“What?”
She sighs. “I mean it. He’s not exactly reasonable. You probably don’t know this but he carved a T on the chest of each and every guerilla member before burning their bodies.”
My jaw slacks, a shiver crawling down my spine and I shudder in the biting cold. A T for Tsarina, on every single male that used to give me nightmares as a child.
“He goes mad sometimes.” Petrushia points at me with a crooked finger. “Because ofyou. We were lucky he took out his wrath on the guerilla the first time,” Petrushia mutters, “but there’s no guerilla here anymore and if you upset him again, he’ll take it out on us.”
Gawking, I glare at them. “You have got to be kidding me.”
They lower their frost bitten faces and nervously wring their hands.
“We wish. But the Tsar needs to be kept under control and you’re the only one who knows how,” they mutter and I decide to ignore them, trying to push through but they won’t let me pass. Filling with frustration, I stomp my foot but twitch when a snowball hits me in the chest. “Go back Tsarina,” they murmur in unison. “The Tsar wants you.”
“But...,” I protest, twitching again when another snowball hits my thigh. “Hey!”
“Go back. You don’t belong with us. You belong with him,” they yell and it doesn’t take long before I’m practically bombarded by snowballs. They hit me in the back and the back of my head and I yap in anger as I run back into the woods. I can’t believe those people. They’ve become Balthazar’s minions and I should’ve counted on it.
My temper is skyrocketing when I step inside the castle again, my skin cold and my hands red and I fill with a sense of unease at how quiet it is. The sound of my footsteps echoes in my ears as I silently search for Balthazar and I find him in his bathroom.
He’s standing by a basin, trying to fix his busted knuckles but his eyes are too dazed for him to be able to focus.
“Balthazar,” I whisper and he jerks, flinching as if somebody slapped him. He stares at me as I fidget, feeling like he’s about to run over and tear my heart out with his bare hands just so he can’t keep it for himself. He swallows and his frantic expression mellows a little.
“You came back,” he rasps and I nod, slowly moving to stand beside him.
“The villagers attacked me with snowballs,” I snort, folding my arms over my chest and anger flashes in his eyes, making me regret I said anything.
“I’ll kill them.” He’s about to brush past me when I stop him by blocking the way and he looks down at me with a displeased frown on his face.
“You’re bleeding,” I murmur. “You should stay put and let me patch you up.” Wetting a rag, I use it to clean up his busted hand. I shiver when he stares down at me, his eyes taking me in as if he’s trying to consume me and the air feels like its constricting.
“Why did you run?” he whispers.
“Because you were acting out of your mind, I thought it was best if I gave you some time away from me.”
“Never think that,” he growls. “You only make it worse by withdrawing.” He shudders, his eyes fluttering and I throw him a suspicious glance. “I get...”
As he trails off, I raise my brows. “What?”
His eyes bore into mine. “Withdrawal symptoms. I can’t describe it any other way. My skin feels too tight, my eyes itch and I begin shaking...” He abruptly stops speaking. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’d rather die than have you think I’m weak.”
“I don’t think that,” I whisper, swallowing. “Balthazar...don’t take this the wrong way,” I gulp, “but you’re a little too reliant on me.”