Page 117 of Between Despair and Hope

“I won’t argue with that.”

“I trusted Dewalt—Thyra and Dickey too. And I trustedyouto not be so thick-headed.“ He stepped back, nostrils flaring.

“Well, maybe if you trusted me more, I wouldn’t have found myself desperate to do something, to feel useful. Elora needs space, and you don’t trust me enough to protect myself against you. What would you have me do? Sit here alone? I’ve been alone for half my fucking life, and it’s nothing I want to repeat,” I snapped.

“How can I trust you to protect yourself from me, the other half of your soul, when you can’t even protect yourself from men who beat their wives? From thieves and murderers? What did you think Dickey was going to do to help you? Do you see how stupid that is?” he yelled as he paced in front of the fireplace, one hand on his sword, the other on his forehead.

“I made a mistake!” I yelled back at him, cursing my inane heart for making tears well up. I hadn’t thought things through—he was right. But I hadn’t intended to hurt anyone or endanger myself. My only intention had been to maintain my sanity, to do something about the guilt which tore at my insides. The guilt I couldn’t even talk to him about because he was dealing with his own demons. “You never would have let me help them if I told you!” I shouted, willing my tears away.

“Wrong!” he roared, and the ground shook beneath us. I wasn’t sure whose divinity was out of control between the two of us, but I felt the whisper of a shadow on my skin. “If you would have told me you wanted to do something so gods damned dangerous, I would have tried to convince you otherwise, but…” He shook his head, wiping his brow. “Em, if you would have insisted, I would’ve seen to it that you could do what you wanted—safely. Because, truthfully, I don’t know if I could ever tell you no. Maybe it’s you who doesn’t trust me.”

His words hit me like a punch to the stomach. Perhaps I didn’t trust him to react reasonably because nothing about the situation between us was reasonable.

“I am not strong enough for this, for this distance between us. I am not strong enough,” I said, voice breaking.

He whirled on me, and the frustration he’d been holding onto tightly turned into rage—rippling black down the bond. For the first time since he’d choked me in the bedroom, I was afraid. When his eyes darted to my shoulder, clothed and bloody, I ripped my shirt away, tugging it down off my shoulder.

“It’s me. You feel me down the bond.” I plucked gently at those golden threads, hoping it would be enough. He froze. I watched him blink a few times, and I wondered if he felt my fear. Rubbing his hands over his face, he groaned before turning away from me and opening a rift.

“I miss you,” I whispered. Our quarters in the palace were in sight past his silhouette. It took everything in me not to beg him, not to plead with him to stay. It felt selfish to desire his presence so desperately, when I seemed to be the last thing he needed. But I was broken too. I didn’t know if he heard me as he stepped through, letting it close behind him. Tears I’d held at bay slid down my cheeks.

I’d never felt more alone.

Chapter 35

Elora

Istretchedinthemorning winter sun shining in from my balcony. One thing I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to was the comfortable bedding. Yvi was curled up at the foot of the bed, and she tilted her head back to look at me before flopping backwards and stretching her paws out. Tiny claws dug into the bedspread and got stuck. She panicked and started to flop about and tear it up, so I sat up quickly, tugging her claw free. She flew off the bed and slammed to the floor.

“Stupid little monster,” I said, laughing. She spun before launching herself beneath the bed. I didn’t think she’d like it as much as the bed at the estate. Boxes of art supplies sat crammed beneath that one, providing her ample hiding spots. There was nothing for her to hide behind here. Not yet, anyway.

I couldn’t believe all the things he’d done for me. Rainier. My father. It was very strange to think about. So, I thought it best to mostly just not think about it. But it was harder to do so in the midst of his generosity. The suite he’d chosen for me was on an exterior wall with a small balcony. Double doors opened up to a view of the bustling capital below me. I saw linens strung up between houses, greenhouses and aviaries on rooftops, and hundreds of people carrying about their day. And beside the double doors, he’d placed an easel. He hadn’t been here when I arrived, and I hadn’t yet thanked him.

He’d been off getting Mama out of trouble.

Even stranger to think about than Rainier as my father was to think about Mama and all the trouble she seemed to get into. Thyra had told me all about how she killed and put to sleep a tírrúil on the road and how she threw a dagger at King Soren. That one made me scratch my head a bit. Thyra wouldn’t tell me what the king had said to warrant her reaction, but something told me Mama was a bit reckless in her actions. The fact she was sneaking about healing people though, that didn’t surprise me in the slightest. That’s what she did. That’s what she’d always done.

When Rainier returned the night before, he’d knocked to tell me and Thyra that Mama was safe and sound, but I was on the verge of sleep and never got more clarity about what happened. I decided to ask him about it. I wanted to be told all the details, wanted to be part of it. I knew Mama claimed I wasn’t the Beloved, but she’d claimed so my whole life; I wasn’t sure if I should believe her or not.

Crawling out of the bed, I tugged the golden bedspread up. It wasn’t nearly as pretty as it had been before I got into it, but since I’d never get it the way it was, I didn’t even bother. After changing into a simple peach-colored dress, I was sitting in a chair beside the fireplace and reading one of the many books on my shelves when a light rap on the door drew my attention.

“You may come in,” I said, and Rainier peeked in a second later.

“Good morning, Elora. Are you busy?”

“Not exactly,” I said, gesturing to the book. “Nothing I can’t put on hold.”

He shuffled into the room, hands in pockets and looking nervous. It was so strange. He was the king. I should have been the nervous one. Casting his eyes about the room, lingering on the light green sofa beside me with golden-yellow pillows, he took a few steps farther into the room.

“Do you like it? I know it’s not like what you had in Brambleton, but I tried to make it nice for you.”

“I do. Did Mama help you?”

“A little. She gave me enough information to do the rest on my own.”

“Oh, then I suppose she’s the one who told you I liked yellow?”

Beaming, he nodded. “Yes. Spring colors.”

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