Page 46 of Of Songs and Silence

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll go.” Tears pool from my eyes, mingling with the saltwater around us, and there is nothing I can do to stop them.

I turn to go before he can make this worse, but he reaches out to stop me. One solid arm wraps around me, and then another, pulling my back against his chest. He buries his face in my hair, cradling me like I am the most precious thing in the world to him.

“I am sorry, Kala. I wish I could explain, but I need you to trust me that it won’t be this way forever,” he says. “Can you do that?”

I nod, and he lets go, leaving me with that strangely empty feeling once more. But the bit of contact soothed the panicked ache that had been working its way through me before.

It won’t be this way forever.

Does that mean that we won’t always have to be apart? Or that we won’t have this connection forever?

Would it be worse, feeling this horrible, endless longing with him on the other side of the door for the rest of my life or not having him in my life at all?

I can’t decide. I can’t think at all anymore tonight.

So instead, I rush from his room and dive into my bed. Then I let the tears fall until the exhaustion pulls me into the first sleep I’ve had in days.

It’s filled with nightmares, just like always.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

EINAR

Afurious storm has chased us below decks, throwing us off course.

It’s beginning to feel like we’ll never get off of this storms-damned ship. If I was superstitious, I would wonder if Ulla herself was responsible for the raging winds and the never-ending crashing of the waves.

The ship tilts to the left, and I nearly stumble into the wall.

My stomach was tenuous at best without the storm, but now it’s much worse. A constant nausea twists my insides and my head throbs relentlessly. Though it’s not quite time, I pull another bottle of the tonic from my pocket, downing it eagerly. Almost immediately, my stomach settles and my vision clears. The rest of the walk to the cabin isn’t nearly so miserable.

Zaina sits on the edge of the bed, unbothered by the tilting of the ship as she idly traces Khijhana’s metallic teeth. The chalyx sits placidly in front of her, also unaffected by the storm, or her mistress’ examination.

Even seated, Khijha is nearly as tall as my wife. Chalyxes grow in direct proportion to their bond with their owner, and Zaina’s recent brush with kidnapping has only made her beast more protective over her.

Which makes two of us.

I think of what I told Remy about life on the other side, wondering how much I believe we’ll get there when Zaina is poised to offer herself up as a sacrificial lamb at every possible opportunity.

Her slim shoulders tense as though she senses my presence and the weight of the impending argument that accompanies it. But I don’t want to fight with her about this again.

When Ulla took her from Palais Etienne, I forced myself not to fight because Zaina made it sound like she would fight to return to me. She admitted she hadn’t, though. Not at first. For all her growth, Zaina will always be someone who will break herself for the people around her. The only way she will be out of danger is if we end this. Quickly.

With a sigh, I go to sit next to her, trailing my hand along her arm. She leans into my touch, though her stance tells me she’s still on guard.

“Have you thought about life when this is all over?” I ask her in a low tone.

She freezes. “If this is your way of trying to make me feel guilty—”

“It isn’t,” I cut her off. “We both know that wouldn’t work.”

My tone is as neutral as I can manage, but she turns to face me, peering up intently at me through her thick veil of lashes.

“You know that I love you,” she says earnestly. The tumultuous waves rock the boat, making the gold flecks in her eyes shine in the cabin's rolling flicker of lantern light.

I nod. “I just wish that you could love yourself half as much.”

She shakes her head softly. “It isn’t about that. Don’t you understand that if something happened to you, I wouldn’t survive it? I wouldn’t want to survive it, Einar.”

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