Page 102 of Between Despair and Hope

“Turn it, idiot,” she laughed, and I let the sound push my mortification away. Doing as she’d said before lifting the silver fastener, I held my breath as I lifted the lid.

A telescope.

Resting my hands on my thighs, I stared down at it. I’d made an offhand comment about the activity I’d once enjoyed doing with my mother, and she’d remembered. That had been last summer. And she had said she’d find it back then, but I’d forgotten, or possibly hadn’t taken her seriously. This was the same one I’d remembered from when I was small. The brass instrument was stored at its full extension, spanning nearly the length of my arm. The velvet lined case was a bit moth-eaten, but it seemed in decent shape.

“Are you—is it alright that I—you’re not mad, are you?”

She stood next to me, looking down nervously. Surging to my feet, I put my hands on her arms, staring down at her.

“I’m not mad. I’m the opposite of mad. This was—wow, I can’t…” I trailed off, eyes moving to her mouth as her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip. Everything in me wanted to kiss her, but I forced myself to take a step back. “This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m surprised you even remembered.”

That pink flush creeped up her cheeks again.

“You seemed so happy when you talked about it. I couldn’t find it last summer and didn’t have time to look when we were here for Solstice, but I had a feeling it was up here. It was the first place I thought to look when we got here last week.” She was talking fast—frantic. Nervous? “And I wanted to give it to you for your birthday, but I knew it was a full moon now, and I thought you might want to use it, and—”

I pressed a finger to her lips, “Shhh.” She swallowed as I stepped closer to her. “We might be able to see Damia or Urepa, but it’s too bright to see the others tonight.” Voice low, I moved my fingertip to her chin and tilted it up. “Thank you, Em.”

I had decided I was going to kiss her, was bending down to bring my lips to hers, when her eyes flared. Panic flooding her features, she leapt forward, encircling her arms around my body so tightly it knocked the wind out of me. I laughed, rubbing my hand down her spine, and then wrapped my arms around her, returning the embrace.

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled against my chest, muffled by the fabric of my robe.

But when I let go, she fell backwards.

No, I pushed her.

I rushed forward to catch her, but my hands moved of their own accord, shoving her from the tower.

Shouting, I raced forward, gripping the railing.

But when I looked down, she was gone.

Chapter 31

Emmeline

Kickingmyselffordrinkinga glass of water before sleep, I climbed out of bed and tiptoed across the cold floor to the bathing suite. Still dark, I was grateful when I realized I’d have a few more hours to sleep once I climbed back into the warm bed. Finished and padding my way back across the room, a gentle rumble in the earth below me stalled my footsteps. Soft, I would have slept through it if my bladder hadn’t roused me. A sick, fearful feeling made my stomach drop and my heart race. It only took me a moment to realize it wasn’t me, but Rain through the bond.

Not hesitating, I opened a rift into the hall outside Lavenia’s room. I hated that he slept here, away from me, but at least he was nearby. At least I could rift straight to him if I needed to. Hand on the doorknob, I waited. I wanted to give him space. I didn’t want to push him when he wasn’t ready for me. But he didn’t seem to be improving. Would I have to push him further than I wanted, just to get a reaction?

I felt another low rumble in my chest, an echo of what he was doing to the earth below us, and I pushed my way into his room.

“Rain?” I whispered, unable to see in the pitch dark. When he didn’t answer, I pulled a flame into my hand and could barely make out his body on the bed, twitching in his sleep. A fine layer of shadows coated him, nothing compared to that day in the hallway, and I could see a faint sheen on his skin. He was having a nightmare.

I froze, uncertain of what to do. If I woke him, I was sure he’d yell at me for coming to him during the time he felt most likely to hurt me. But I wasn’t going to leave him, to let him suffer. Nodding to myself, I decided. Crossing over the threshold of the room in easy, confident strides, I tossed my robe onto the foot of the bed before climbing into it behind him.

“You’re alright,” I whispered, as I encircled his waist with my arm and pressed my chest to his back. Using my other hand to dig my fingertips into his hair, I stroked his scalp, soothing him the best I could. I hoped my gentle movements wouldn’t wake him but would be enough comfort to pull him from wherever his mind had sent him. “I’m here. You’re safe—we’reallsafe.”

Pressing my body tight against him, I tucked my knees behind his. He was so much larger than me, and I was so gods damn grateful to feel the weight he’d put back on in recent weeks. He wasn’t back to his normal self, but getting closer, though he still looked haunted more often than not. Molding my body to his, I felt his breathing slow and calm.

He slept shirtless, and I pressed my cheek against the warm skin of his back. Though he was sweating in his sleep, I didn’t mind, the touch something I craved. I’d taken a few moments adjusting to the lack of light, the moon barely peeking through a narrow opening in the curtains, and I watched as his shadows slowly receded and the sick feeling in my stomach faded away. Instead, I felt contentment and a hint of melancholy, but the ground no longer rumbled.

Tightening my arm and nuzzling against him, I breathed in his scent. The intoxicating smell of him, those moments after a spring storm, mixed with the sweat drying on his skin. I hadn’t been this close to him in weeks, and I reveled in it. I only planned on staying for a few moments before returning to our room—alone. But when it became harder and harder to keep my eyes open, finally drifting off to sleep with ease for once, I decided to stay.

When I woke, he was gone. His side of the bed was made, not even an indent on the pillow to prove he had been there. I stretched before rolling onto my stomach, burying my nose into the bed, breathing him in. Shameless, I didn’t care how pathetic it was. I missed him. My husband, my twin flame. Laying flat on my stomach, I turned my head to look out the window. Facing the front of the estate, I couldn’t see the garden, but I could see treetops. Stripped of color from winter, they swayed in the breeze. Snow fell from the sky, fluffy as it drifted down. Sighing, I sat up and rubbed sleep from my eyes. I didn’t know what I expected. Did I think Rain would wake up and be thrilled? Did I think he’d stay and yell at me? I thought anything would have been better than what happened. Which was nothing.

But when I looked at the nightstand on my side of the bed, my breath caught in my throat. He’d left me a shell. I wondered where he got it. Did he have a collection somewhere? It wasn’t as if either of us had been to the beach since Mira. Unless you counted the Cascade, which I didn’t. It was tiny, no bigger than my pinky fingernail, but it was a perfect, tiny cowrie shell. Bleached white from the sun, I wasn’t sure how he’d even noticed it to pick it out at all. I was afraid of losing it, but I didn’t want to leave it there either. I wanted him to know I saw it and knew he’d left it for me.

Carefully plucking it off the table, I opened a rift into my suite and found Elora sitting on my bed. It took me by surprise. I normally woke before her, but not this morning, evidently. I glanced at the clock behind me on the mantle and had to take a second look. It was past mid-morning.

---