Page 93 of Heavenly Bodies

The days became weeks—how many, she could not tell—and when she was lucid, she barely felt anything. Instead, shadows embraced her as she was fed soup and had water brought to her parched lips. There was a gentle caress, then darkness again.

One night, she woke as always in distress, drenched in sweat, eyes darting wildly around the room. Her gaze flew to Enzo who had awoken, his white shirt loose, his hair mussed from leaning on his hand in the chair next to her bed. As the healer entered the room, Enzo reached for Elara the way he had every night prior on the healer’s arrival. But there was something different in his eyes, she noticed. After a moment, he left Elara and stalked towards the healer, a hushed but heated conversation ensuing. She heard the urgent words ofthe healer, drifting to her through the web of fear and nightmares.

‘Has to…keep her subdued.’

Enzo’s voice was a snarl. ‘Enough…drugging her…’

‘I serve the king.’

A tense silence.

‘Then at least give it to me.’

Elara felt gentle hands take her mouth, stroking her lip.

‘Open, Elara.’

She did, feeling only one drop on her tongue, rather than two, as the door clicked shut.

Enzo then eased her out of bed and led her up and across the room as he opened the large doors to the balcony. Out in the cool night air, he settled on the divan with her, wrapping them both in a blanket as he sat, Elara curled on his lap.

‘You need fresh air,’ he said tightly.

The rest of his words drifted away from her and she looked at him silently, the fog still over her. Everything sounded and felt so far, so distant. The medicine was swimming through her system, pleasant and warm as she tried to focus on what he was saying. Giving up, she rested against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. She heard a knock at the balcony door and jumped. A head peeked around the door, sleepy-eyed and worried.

‘Is she okay?’ Merissa whispered, stepping out on to the balcony. If she noticed the intimacy she had walked in on, she didn’t comment.

‘Just a nightmare,’ Enzo mumbled to her. ‘Could you fix us some chamomile tea, Merissa?’

She nodded. ‘Of course.’

Elara ignored her, her mind desperately trying to push the box shut on the horrors that wanted to claw and shriek theirway out. Some nights she swore she heard it rattling, but there was always enough potion to silence it.

She blinked, shifting so that she was looking up at Enzo. He stroked her hair, lulling her. ‘You need to wake,’ he said. ‘To feel. Not be trapped in this,’ he gestured around her, ‘fog.’

‘Nightmares,’ she said quietly, the first words she’d spoken properly in skies knew how long. ‘There’s just darkness, and then I always wake to the nightmares.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

She shook her head, frowning, the thoughts soon dissipating, like storm clouds on a breeze. She couldn’t quite hold on to the memories.

‘Naming them helps,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘When I have nightmares, I go outside and speak them aloud.’ He laughed quietly. ‘I sound like a madman, I know. But I always feel as though there is someone out there listening to me. It’s like praying, but to something other than the Stars. The first time I did it, I dreamed that an angel had visited me. Though different to howThe Mythas of Celestiadepicts them. I don’t remember what it said, but when I awoke, for the first time in my life, I felt safe. Strong.’

‘I forgot you had nightmares too,’ she said quietly.

He gave her a wry smile. ‘Yes, you witnessed one of the less pleasant ones.’ He paused. ‘You know, my father wasn’t so cruel until my mother died. Or perhaps she was just such a powerful light that it obscured his darkness.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘That my parents—’ She gulped. ‘I’m so sorry, Enzo.’

He squeezed her. ‘It is not your apology to make.’

There was a long comfortable silence as Enzo stroked her hair. She ran her hand up and down his back as he held her, feeling the smoothness of it. Something dawned uponher, and she stilled. ‘Why don’t you have any scars?’ she whispered.

Enzo was quiet for a long time before he spoke.

‘My father had a Verdan on hand, a healer. When my back was split so badly by his light that it was just a mess of blood and flesh, the healer would patch and smooth over every part of my skin, just so Idris could inflict the same pain again. So that no one would know. The moment I became strong enough, I sought the healer out.’

He took a controlled breath, and she noticed that he was shaking.

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