Page 69 of Caller of Crows
He'd never see her again, never laugh with her over dinner or take care of her the way he always had.
He'd spent most of his adult life seeing to it that she was comfortable, that her needs were taken care of. Now that she was gone, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He had no idea how to function without his mother in his life.
After they began driving, Sven leaned against the window, staring out into the distance but unable to focus. Everything looked blurry. No, everythingwasblurry. His vision swam and his eyes burned. His body was still shaking, even if he wasn't actively crying. His muscles were tense, his nerves frayed. His stomach clenched painfully every so often as a fresh wave of pain washed over him.
His throat constricted whenever he tried to swallow, and his tongue felt thick, his mouth dry.
And in the middle of his chest, his heart ached, like someone was twisting a knife inside of him.
He wasn't okay, but what scared him the most was that he didn't think he'd be able to be okay again. Not like this. Not after losing his mother.
"You'll heal," the vampire said. "You'll never be quite the same, but you'll heal."
Sven glanced at the vampire, wondering if he really knew or if those were just platitudes meant to make him feel better.
"Your mother's passing is not your fault, Sven."
Sven shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't ready to hear that.
"Your mother—"
"Please stop," Sven said quietly. "I can't…"
He swallowed.
The vampire nodded, and the rest of the ride passed in silence.
Altair must have sensed what Sven truly wanted and needed because when they arrived back at the coven's base, the vampire reached out to take him by the hand. Sven let himself be led downstairs without a word.
Altair didn't say anything either as he climbed into bed with Sven, merely enveloping Sven within the circle of his arms and holding him.
Sven laid his head on Altair's shoulder and closed his eyes.
He did not cry anymore, but the tension and the sadness didn't leave him.
Instead, he just felt hollowed out. Empty. He didn't know whether or not he'd feel better once he rested, but he hoped, for his sake as much as Altair's, that sleep would claim him fast. He had no energy left in him for anything more than curling up with Altair.
Fortunately, the vampire did not complain. Instead, he ran his fingers through Sven's hair. His fingers weren't cold like they usually were either. Altair must still retain some of Sven's blood, flowing through him. To Sven, it seemed like it had been forever ago that Altair drank from him, but in reality, it had only been a couple of hours.
"Rest," the vampire murmured. "I'm here."
Despite all the heaviness in his heart, Sven found those simple words soothing. And so, eventually, exhaustion won out and he fell asleep in Altair's arms.
* * *
A few hours later, Sven opened his eyes slowly, disoriented and a little surprised that he had managed to fall asleep. He'd been so sure he would stare sleeplessly at the ceiling all night long, tormented by nightmares of his mother, but apparently, his mind had decided he needed more than that.
As he stirred, he registered another fact that he hadn't expected: there was no sign of Altair in bed with him.
He sat up, looking around, but he was, indeed, alone.
Forcing back the pang that accompanied that discovery, Sven stretched, grimacing. He felt horrible, physically as well as mentally. His body was stiff, his muscles sore from being curled up in the same position for too long.
Slowly, Sven got up. He brushed his teeth and combed his fingers through his hair.
It wasn't a surprise when he caught sight of himself in the mirror and saw that he looked terrible.
His face was pale and his eyes bloodshot. His shoulders drooped and there were deep circles underneath his eyes, like dark half-moons carved into his face.
