Have they?
A fragment of a ghost of a memory buzzes through my mind, but I smack it down like an annoying fly.
Finally, I look into my eyes. Tal’s eyes. Or what they must have looked like when he was still whole, before my Mistress got her claws into him.
This is definitely my favorite feature of all. My eyes are kaleidoscopic prisms of turquoise that turn blue or green or a mix of both depending on the angle of light, and I suspect my mood. I’m not exaggerating; you should see for yourself.
They’re…beautiful.
Hypnotizing. Mesmerizing.
My heart suddenly twists painfully in my chest. Did Tal used to have these eyes before they turned cloudy and opaque with blindness? No wonder Ishtar fell in love with him. He didn’t say so when he told me their story, focusing only on his point of view. But she simply must have. How could anyone see this male and not love him?
And so I conclude: I’m not ugly at all.
At least on the outside.
I smooth some waves away from my face and try to pat down the knots on my head before exiting the bathroom with my head held high. In appearance, I have nothing to be ashamed about. No one will run screaming from the room at the sight of the real me.
I hope.
Benjamin beams at me when he sees me approach. I see quite a large variety of dishes set out on the kitchen counter, steaming from having been recently heated. Three place settings are arranged at a right angle along the edge of the stone plank.
Wait.
Three?
My eyes widen as they ping-pong around the apartment, searching for the third attendee to this elegant, yet casual dinner affair.
“Hullo, binu,” Ishtar says softly, calling me the fake human name I’ve given myself, which is also the Akkadian word for “son.” Given that I am not wearing any of my disguises, I know she’s using the noun instead of the pronoun.
My Adam’s Apple bobs in my throat on a ragged swallow as I stare unblinkingly at the most beautiful woman in the world.
My mother.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she murmurs. “M-may I join you for dinner?”
I can’t find my voice to answer her, and my body has frozen entirely.
Thankfully, Benjamin jumps in and declares, “Of course, Mama Bear! Binu and I can’t eat this all by ourselves.”
Then, he looks a little uncertainly at me.
“Umm…Do you still want us to call you Binu? Would you prefer a different name? What’s your real name anyway? I don’t think you ever said.”
I continue to stare at Ishtar, my eyes silently asking what I cannot.
Did she ever name me? What is my name?
Her face blanches at the unspoken question, her long, dark eyelashes fluttering down.
They are wet with tears.
My heart twists in my chest again at the sight of my mother’s tears. I can’t stand it. I’d cut off my own arm to stop it.
“My name is Erebu,” I croak, saying the first thing that pops into my head.
“You can call me Ere.”
Chapter Four: Under My Scars
*TAL*
I stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows that take up two adjacent walls of the living space Ishtar and I share in the Shield. Even though I cannot see, I can still feel the gentle warmth of light and the soothing coolness of night.
As I understand it, Sophia repurposed what was supposed to be her throne room or atrium into a private apartment for my Mate and me. She claimed that, firstly, she didn’t need the ostentation of a formal gathering place; she could simply use one of the many common areas or “conference rooms.”
And secondly, that she wanted me to breathe in the light and soak in the darkness. To feed all of my other senses to compensate for the one I lack. In addition, there are private spiral stairs within our apartment that lead to a secluded rooftop garden. Ishtar assures me that it is beautiful by sight, and I know for a fact that it smells and feels beautiful as well.
I am humbled by the care and consideration the Royal Zodiac has given me and my Mate. They truly have become our extended family, not just comrades in arms. Even so, I fear I do not always adequately express my appreciation and gratitude. I am not talkative by nature, and the last four millennia of captivity and isolation have taken their toll.
That, and the torture.
I will never be “normal.” Even if all of my physical scars miraculously disappeared, it is the twisted, jagged, fractured mess beneath that will never heal. Not in a few months, years, or another four millennia. I know this definitively.
But that does not mean I won’t live. I will do so as a different male. Just because I’m broken, it does not mean I’m not strong. I am stronger because of my brokenness, like metal melted, reshaped and hammered in the forge. I will become stronger still with my Mate and our family at our side.
I breathe deeply as the sun sets and the freshness of night blankets this bustling, restless city.
It feels better to be alive, though not yet “good.”
After eating a light supper, clearing the dishes and spending some time listening to one of the audio books Sophia set up for me on the “iPad,” I head to the rainforest shower and strip down to the skin.
Though I know I am standing in front of a wall of mirrors, I cannot see my reflection. I do not know what I look like, and I avoid touching my body to feel it out because the bumps and indentations of my scars remind me of how I got them.
That said, I have no issues cutting into my own flesh. When pain accompanies touch rather than gentleness, I accept the contact better. I still crave it at times, because it’s what I’ve lived with for almost the entirety of my existence. But I have not self-harmed since coming to the Shield. Since Ishtar and I…reunited in the ways of Mates.
I pass my hand roughly over my short hair, like metallic wires rather than the silk of healthy hair, cut close to the scalp.
I used to have long, bright gold hair. Ishtar compared it to rays of sunlight. She liked to braid it, sift through it, wind it around her fingers and pull on it to bring my face closer to hers…for a kiss. To taste my smile, or to share her own with me. To nuzzle my jaw and throat and breathe in my scent… There were too few opportunities for these small pleasures, for we had very little time together before we were forced apart.
I remember and treasure each and every moment.
The first present she gave me, in fact, was a turquoise ribbon for my hair that matched the color of my eyes. But the joy of that gift came with the torment of her enslavement of me, as decreed by her mother, the Dark Queen Ashlu. As a consequence of winning the Challenge against Anunit, her sister, now Medusa, our collective nemesis.
She still has that ribbon after all this time. She saved it, despite everything. Now, she wears it as a necklace in her Dark One form, and as a collar in her animal form. She never takes it off. Recently, Inanna took her to the jewelry shop and strengthened the frayed threads with silver and gold.
I wish I could give her such thoughtful gifts. But I do not have the currency of these contemporary times. Well, truthfully, I do not have currency of any time. I am “penniless” as modern humans would say. I can only create woodwork with my hands, using the materials and tools Ishtar provides me.
And I can fight. I can still protect those I love to my last breath.
Beyond that, I do not know why Ishtar continues to choose me. She can have any male she wants. More demonstrative, engaging, stronger, richer, just more than me in every way.