“I wouldn’t agree to bear the mark again.” Waking up screaming like a child felt foolish. Even though she didn’t want them to know, she owed them the truth. “Kirven—”
A violent shudder made it difficult to speak as she recalled the pain he had inflicted on her. That he had threatened to inflict on her family. She curled in on herself. Words failed her. How could she tell Father the truth? That she hadn’t known a person could experience that much pain and live?
“You don’t have to explain.” Father knelt beside her and stroked her head. “They’ll fade.” His voice was barely a whisper. “The memories. The dreams. And the pain. They won’t last forever.”
He already knew. A sob tightened her throat as she met Father’s gaze. “When?” She focused on the love in his eyes and let his calm wash over her.
Father shook his head, still stroking her hair. “I don’t know. But they will. I’ve...been where you are. This feeling of—being broken. It’s a lie. You will heal.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re so, so strong, my dear. Don’t doubt that, all right?”
Adelaide nodded, even though she didn’t feel strong. She felt worthless; useless and used.Brokenseemed right.It’s a lie.But right now, she didn’t know how to heal. How to wait for the memories and the dreams and the pain to fade.
“I think I’ll sleep easier when he’s dead. When they both are.”
Father’s lips drew into a hard line. “You don’t have to be the one to face them—”
“Yes, I do.” She looked down, fiddling with the edge of her tunic. “You don’t know what he can do. It’s going to take more than some knights to stop him.”
Father obviously wanted to argue, but there was nothing he could say. He stood with a sigh. “Your mother will blame me for your insistence on being the hero, but that stubbornness is all her.” He patted her head, then walked away.
Regulus rubbed her back. “I wish I could blot out what Kirven did to you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I...” His strong arms wrapped around her. Protecting her. Shielding her.
Adelaide leaned against him. “I’m all right.”
By the way Regulus tightened his grip on her, like he could hold her tightly enough to press all her broken pieces back together, she knew he didn’t believe her.
Chapter 27
Regulus didn’t lethimself sleep until Adelaide was sound asleep in his arms, which took a while. He didn’t care to know the specifics of her nightmare. That she had mumbled for him and her father and then screamed like she was being burned alive was more than enough for his aching heart and guilty conscience.
When she asked him not to leave her side, he swore he wouldn’t. He didn’t care that Dresden looked amused when he curved his body against Adelaide’s back. Or that Alfred tightened his mouth so much his lips turned white when he wrapped his arms around her, and she curled her hands around his forearm. He only cared that Adelaide felt safe, that she slept comfortably, even when his own arms fell asleep.
He was thankful to be the first person awake in the early dawn. During the night, they had shifted. Regulus was on his back, and Adelaide lay on her stomach across his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and her left leg hooked around his left leg. The fingers of her left hand had intertwined with his right. Her heart beat a gentle rhythm against his ribs. A hot stone seemed to burn in his stomach and his skin tingled. He hardly dared to breathe, afraid he’d disturb her slumber.
Birds sang nearby, their chirps competing with the gentle flow of the stream. The air was crisp and cold, more like the beginning of harvest than the end of summer. He stroked Adelaide’s unraveling braid, undoing the strands as the sky turned from a dusty pink to a washed-out blue. Green leaves swayed in a breeze that didn’t reach the ground, revealing the occasional tinge of yellow and orange.
He smiled, relishing this moment of peace. Adelaide’s warmth, the gentle beauty of a new day. This was what he wanted, every day for the rest of his life. Well, maybe inside, on a bed with pillows. A pinch had developed in his neck.