Page 164 of Frost and Death
Wiping away the tears, I sniff twice, careful to keep my mirror close so the connection to Axidoria is not visible.
“It’s nothing, just—just nightmares,” I lie, the half truth I rely on easing everything consuming me.
Her sympathetic touch is a blade plunging into my heart. “Would you like me to stay?” she asks, knowing company helps me immensely when my nightmares are bad.
I haven’t had many night terrors haunting me lately, but they certainly are following me while I am awake. The soft circle she runs around my shoulder is comforting, but I dismiss it.
I don’t deserve it.
“I’ll be alright. I’m just stressed. Thank you, though,” I say.
She regards me warily, skepticism etched in her features as she stands. “If you say so. I’m going to empty your chamber pot, then. Let me know if you need anything though, alright?”
“I will,” I sigh, watching her go into my privy to take the chamber pot and replace it with a fresh one.
She reaches the door and pauses before turning to me. “I hope your dreams are sweeter.”
“I hope yours are, too, Dorit.”
Her brown eyes light up as she closes the door.
Moments pass before I collapse onto my mattress, embraced in the soft linen sheets. They are light and weightless, designed to accommodate the hot summer nights.
I still clutch my mother’s mirror, holding it as I stare into the blank ceiling of my chambers, a hole burning in my chest. The burn is not comforting or filled with lust or desire.
It is frigid, abrasive, and harsh—meant to swallow me whole.
It even snuffs out my magic, smothering it away and forcing me to feel this sting of pain.
My vision blurs as tears trickle down my cheeks. The panic, the fear, the loss, and the guilt send me spiraling.
When I lift the mirror, no one is on the opposite end.
No Niko. No Betina.
I run my hand in a circle to sever the connection, and I am met with my own reflection. The monster I am stares back, thrashing against the hopelessness in my features. A mask patiently molds itself to my entire being.
Placing the mirror on the nightstand, I look into the darkened night. The lack of stars shining in the sky brings a void to this evening.
Once again, I am reminded of not having a family, and I’ve ruined any relationship with anyone who has offered me kindness.
I wrap my arms around my pillow, holding it close to my heart and cheeks. It is barely enough to dry my face as I heave and tremor through each sob. I muffle my exhausted screams with the cushion, but it does nothing to reduce the sting.
I clutch my pillow tighter as the grief, terror, and failure I can never seem to escape grows larger, dragging me into darkness worse than Oblivion.
35
Reliving the Past
The spring grass is freshly sprinkled with a light rain, but Runa insisted we take a walk outside the castle’s walls.
Peering over my shoulder, Nikolaj is a few feet behind us.
Runa snickers at my lingering stare, and I elbow her, which only makes her laugh harder.
“Stop doing that!” I demand.
She snickers more, swinging our arms together. Her brown hair blows in the wind, a strand getting caught in my vision, and I fight to remove it. Our steps sync into the same rhythm, and her head rests on my upper arm, fingers removing loose strands from my face.
