Page 8 of Between Despair and Hope

“Should have been what? Weeping? Where would that have gotten you?” She started ticking her fingers one by one as if making a list. “You didn’t know where Elora was being held; you met with Soren to ask for aid, and he threw you in the dungeons—don’t start; he deserved it. If you would have bypassed Soren, his assassins might have killed her first.” She continued ticking her fingers. “You thought she was safe and cared for. And frankly, it seems like she was. Dewalt told me what the boy said, and I saw his aura.”

I scowled at her.

“I know you’re going to do it anyway, but you can’t beat yourself up over choosing yourself for once in your life. I’ve known you long enough; I know your heart.”

Thyra nodded emphatically next to her.

“If I had my head on straight, I’d have thought about the situation with Cyran more clearly. I wouldn’t have let Rain fall in love with me again, and he wouldn’t be in Darkhold now.”

At that, Thyra’s laugh filled the room. I didn’t find it particularly funny, but she had her head tilted back completely, her hand resting on her stomach. “Little dyrr, you have lost your mind,” she said between gasping breaths. Even Mairin wore a smile and chuckled along with her.

“It’s true. I hurt us both by entertaining the idea,” I argued.

“Emma,“ she stressed, the weight of my name on Thyra’s lips meant to send a message. “If you think the king would act any other way, you need to check your head.” Mairin smiled, reaching over to grasp my hand as Thyra continued. “I have known King Rainier for many years. I did not know your name but I knew you. He did not fall in love with youagain. Always, that man has loved you.”

My chest tightened as Mairin interjected her own thoughts on the matter.

“You entertaining his affections changed nothing. Just because you trusted someone you shouldn’t, just because you trusted a plan that went to shit, just because you were following through in action instead of tears, doesn’t mean you were wrong. And, I know I’m not one, so maybe this isn’t my place to say, but you aren’t only a mother. Your identity isn’t your daughter. It isn’t your dead sister. Hell, your identity isn’t the Beloved either. You are a woman who did her best in an impossible situation, and just because you stole some happiness for yourself does not mean you are a bad mother.”

“Agree,” Thyra nodded before adding softly, “I think it would be lucky if more mothers were like you.”

Tears came to my eyes, and I brushed them away as I sniffled. “Careful, Thyra, you’ll have me thinking too highly of myself.”

Thyra smiled before yawning, and I glanced over at the clock on the mantel.

“Go to bed, get some rest.” Thyra’s stare was dubious. “Mairin won’t let me get into any trouble. Promise.”

My shadow, as she often felt like, looked over at Mairin, who nodded, confirming she’d mind me. I knew their intentions were to take care of me, to stop me from doing something reckless and endangering myself. But I still didn’t like feeling like such an inconvenience to them. Thyra stood, reaching upward into a stretch before heading toward the door. As she passed me, I reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Thank you, Thyra. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She dipped her head, a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“You’re welcome, Emma.”

I squeezed her hand before letting go and sending her on her way.

After a moment, Mairin asked, “What are we researching about the Beloved?”

“I don’t know. Everything?”

I wanted to know how the gifts from the gods weresupposedto work. I didn’t care as much about the supposed conflict between the Beloved and the Accursed. Not now, at least—I’d think about that later. What I was more concerned about was how the various blessings worked within me. The prophecy as I’d known it, hell as the rest of Vesta had known it, only involved Aonara’s blessing. But all four of the gods had blessed me. I still wasn’t sure if I agreed with the term. Was it a blessing? Was having this power colliding and meshing within me—light and dark—anything other than a curse?

Rhia had blessed me with Elora, anchoring me to this life, and Hanwen had blessed me with abundance, the hum of my almost endless divinity reverberating within me. But Aonara and Ciarden, their abilities were total and complete. And Ciarden’s felt…tainted. I wanted to know if they were supposed to feel like that. Already, I’d been tempted to use the shadows in ways I didn’t want. When I was in the dungeon with Dewalt, questioning Cyran, I had to look away for long moments. The power itching beneath my skin had begged to be used on the boy.

When Cyran told me the reason for what he’d done, I had to leave the room. Even though I’d gone into the cell of the man who’d bound Rain, using my fists to take some of the edge off, I still didn’t trust myself. But the moment he said it, the shadows danced over the surface of my skin, aching to break free. I wasn’t sure which direction to aim the rage either. If Cyran spoke true, he did it for the good of the Three Kingdoms. Not that it mattered; I’d rather see the world burn than my child dead. But I could understand. I could understand why a prince raised by a monster might think her death was worth it.

But her death being the reason Ciarden blessed me? The fourth god had watched me suffer, watched fury and horror fill me, before he blessed me with his dark power. Cursed me with it.

Lucia had died for me, protected me, so I could live. Elora had died for me, been sacrificed for me, so I could become the Beloved. And for what? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be part of that gods forsaken prophecy. But I had to be, didn’t I? Though I had healed her wounds and started her heart, she had died because of me. Cyran had been forced to kill her because of me.

I needed to make what Cyran had done to her worth it—not just for the world but for the prince too. What he’d done to her had clearly taken a toll on him, but he thought he was doing it for the greater good. Could I believe him? I supposed I could find a mindbreaker to infiltrate his memories, but I’d heard his heart. It was a sure and steady beat when he had explained what he’d seen. I needed to ensure that his vision of peace, the reward for his vile actions, would some day come to pass.

While I’d slept, I’d dreamed of that day. Cyran had gently lowered her to the ground and held her as tears ran down his face. I’d seen it that day but dismissed it. For the first time, I wondered if he might deserve my forgiveness.

I was back in my private quarters before dawn. They were nearly as big as the lower level of Rain’s estate, with a sitting and dining area attached to the balcony garden and our private room. The sitting room bore comfortable furniture, the divan and matching armchairs made from cherry wood and upholstered with a deep red velvet matching the rug in the bedroom. The dining table was round, small enough it only held four chairs, and I ached at its waiting potential. Would the three of us ever sit there?

Standing in front of the recently tended fire, grateful a servant had done it, I struggled with the buttons of my gown as I undressed. I tried not to think about how Rain should be with me, helping me with nimble fingers. Thyra had brought a good portion of my wardrobe to the palace, and I hadn’t yet repeated a single item he’d ordered for me. Gripping Rain’s robe which I’d left draped across the armchair, pulling it around my body, I inhaled his scent deeply. It was fading, and I hoped he’d be back in it, letting me breathe him in, before the scent was gone completely. I felt a surge of guilt, being here safe inside the palace, not in Folterra. I should have been in Darkhold trying to free him. I certainly wasn’t helpless, but I didn’t know what I could do by myself, especially after the promise I had made to him when he’d ordered me to stay in the fortress. He wanted me to stay safe for Elora because one of us had to. I knew what he would want me to do now, but I simply couldn’t.

If Shivani didn’t come up with an alternate plan, I’d turn myself over to Declan. I’d do my best to kill him, but I wouldn’t jeopardize Rain any further. The line between my brows deepened as I sunk down into the chair, thinking about how angry I was that Shivani hadn’t yet acted. I only sat for a moment before I heard a distinctly male snore coming from the other room, and I froze.

---