Page 34 of Between Despair and Hope

I tried not to move my arm too much as I stood, the dislocated shoulder aching, and I followed her to the table at the side of the room. I hated that he made her do this to me, knew it probably killed her inside to inflict pain. But she kept a strong demeanor, trying to shield me from it. She was so strong for me, so I’d be strong for her. Quiet.

The cell door opened, and the footsteps I’d come to dread followed. For the first time, I really looked at the man who helped strap me into the device of my agony. The ogre who’d been a part of much of my torture appeared to be a creature of few words, and I caught a whiff of him as he went past. He smelled like rot—inhuman. I adjusted, bringing my eyes back to Emma. Those blue depths would get me through this.

She leaned over, cupping my face in her hands as he started his torment. It hurt worse than it ever had before, making my vow of silence much more difficult. Perhaps my body couldn’t withstand it. Eventually, my injured shoulder moved in such a way it went numb, and I was grateful for it. He was going faster, pulling tighter. It had taken nearly an hour for my shoulder to dislocate the last time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my other ended up dislocated this time. My body tensed, and I felt my abdomen tightening. I thought she could sense my struggle as she leaned forward to kiss me, her lips meeting mine as I let out a sharp breath. I frowned as my lips met hers; she didn’t feel right. There had always been a sort of pull between us, but I didn’t feel it. Perhaps the draíbea haze or the lava rock was dampening it, but I was confused. I screwed my eyes tight and closed my lips, trying to get through the last few moments without a sound. I was strong for her. For us. She would tell me of a plan she had come up with—perhaps a deal she’d made with Declan to get us out.

I was certain it had been twenty minutes when I heard my wrist pop. Thankfully, the entire arm was deprived of sensation, so I didn’t feel it. I saw her grimace as she looked at it, and I felt hot and weak all over to see her sickened face. The rest of my body ached, but the cold air in the room licked up my spine, numbing the pain. I sighed when the man started unstrapping my bindings, and I attempted to keep my face passive. She couldn’t heal me now, not with the basalt in the dungeon, and I didn’t want to remind her of it, knowing it would pain her. I only opened my eyes once the footsteps of my tormentor left the room.

“Can you tell me now?” I asked, shifting my hip to turn to the side, not ready to sit up. I watched her with misguided hope. She cocked her head as she stared down at me. Had her mannerisms always been so crisp?

“It’s easier if I just show you.”

She opened her cloak, letting it fall off her shoulders. My gaze tracked down her body, not sure what she was showing me, as she unbuttoned the loose shirt she wore. I barely breathed, watching her face. Was she about to show me some sort of branding from Declan? She didn’t look upset as I watched her. In fact, I was shocked to see a small smile on her lips.

She unbuttoned the last button and dropped the thin shirt on top of her cloak. Her face softened, and I let my eyes move downwards, taking in the beautiful swell of her breasts, until my gaze rested on her stomach. Without the loose shirt to disguise it, I was taken aback. It was—no. Could she—?

“Em?” Voice strangled—fear and adoration warring in my tone.

“Yes, I am.” Her smile was faint as she looked at me, a single brow arched. I brought my good hand up to my face. I couldn’t believe it. Her belly was slightly more rounded; she couldn’t have been very far along. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. She’d been adamant about not having any more children—she could never give me an heir. This was a gift. But that wasn’t what mattered, and my mind turned dark.

“Will you survive it? I—Em, will you be alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her nose wrinkled as she looked at me with confusion. She would know better than I would, I supposed, but I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her, even if it meant a babe. I hoped her divinity would protect her again, as it had with Elora. I stoppered a sob as it climbed up my throat. Our daughter—our blood—was dead. But with this babe, perhaps I could do better. Maybe I could keep this one safe.

“Do you know how to get us out of here? We can’t stay here, not with…” I glanced pointedly down at her stomach, the round swell of life that grew there. “Come here.”

I wanted to kiss her, to touch her. I sat up, leaning against the wall. When she climbed upon the table, settling into my lap, I was overcome with emotion. Using my good hand to rub up her spine, I pulled her in by the neck to kiss her. My love, my life. She was growing a tiny body inside of her, just for the two of us to love and care for. I’d make the most of every single minute.

I had tears in my eyes as I kissed her, pulling her lower lip into my mouth, ignoring the wrongness I still felt. It was just the lava rock or the draíbea. I reached up, smoothing her hair down as I looked her in the eyes. Her smile widened, turning into a sickening grin, and it made me nervous.

“It isn’t yours.”

“What?” I looked at her in horror, the reality of her words sinking in. Questions flooded my mind. How long had we been here? Was it Faxon’s? She’d said that she hadn’t been with him, so it couldn’t be his. Shefeltlike she hadn’t. I was the first person who had touched her in years; I knew it in my soul. That could only mean—

“Declan?”

She nodded, and I saw red. The man had taken something from her he had no right to take, but he’d taken something from me too. My eyes tracked over her body as she leaned forward, taking my face in her hands. I was panicking, and I knew if we hadn’t been in the dampening cell, the earth below us would have been shaking.

“He was stronger than you,” she whispered, and my stomach tightened with nausea and rage. I was staring at her collarbone, the same spot I’d traced with my tongue countless times, and that was when I realized.

The Damia constellation. A formation of stars which mirrored the freckles above her collarbone—they were missing. The woman in my lap didn’t have that pattern of stars I’d memorized, that I could picture when I closed my eyes. I checked her other side, just to make sure. To ensure I hadn’t lost my gods damned mind. I slowed my panicked breaths and tried to think logically.

I wondered why I hadn’t realized it before this moment. The novice’s words came back to me, cutting through the haze. She’d told me as much. Told me not to trust them. I hadn’t understood at the time. I’d been so gods damned inundated with draíbea, things hadn’t made any sense. But the more I thought, the more wrong it felt. She didn’t smell like her, and her eyes didn’t have that light. The electricity between us wasn’t right.

How could I have thought this was her? Oh gods, how could I have—fuck.

As if in reminder, my shoulder pulsed as I moved it. Emma wouldn’t have let Declan force her to do this to me, not without a fight.

“What are you going to name it?” I asked, voice quiet. I wouldn’t look her in the eyes, not yet.

“That’s what you want to know? What am I going to name it?” I could hear the frown, but even her voice sounded wrong to me now.

“What was the name of the stable-cat you and Lucia snuck in that one winter? The one Nana nearly beat you for? Charlie, wasn’t it?” The cat’s name had been Hanny, named after the god he most would have bonded with. The twins had told the story so many times, the cat lived in infamy.

“Yes, Charlie. He was a good cat.”

I already knew, but her answer confirmed it. This wasn’t my wife.

I slid my arm up, shoulder aching, and cupped her face. “I love you, Emmeline. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.”

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