Page 38 of The Sorrow of Shadows

Breyla throws her head back as a full-body laugh erupts from her. “He would say something like that. That male...” She shakes her head. “Now can you please help me lace this thing?” she practically begs.

I chuckle. “Yes, of course. You look absolutely pitiful trying to do it on your own.” I get to work untangling all the knots Elijah left for me.

“How in the world did he manage this?” I question as I get the last of the knots cleared.

“I truly don’t know,” Breyla says, shaking her head.

I begin lacing it back up, starting loose and then tightening as I go. I weave the lace back and forth, over and under, until it reaches the top. By the end of it, my already aching fingers are trembling. “There you are, right as rain.” I tie her laces off and tuck them in the back.

She turns to me, giving me a full view of the dress. It’s a sleek, long-sleeved black gown, the neckline cut low and showing off the tops of her breasts. Light freckles dot from her face down her neck and collarbone. The rest of the gown issimple for someone of her standing. No embellishments or slits to expose her leg. I reach for the diadem sitting on her armoire and place it on her head with trembling hands.

I gently try to rub the pain out of my fingers and give her a soft smile. “Beautiful,” I whisper.

As I drop my hands, I feel Breyla’s lightly grasp my wrists. I fight a flinch and force my face to stay neutral. She doesn’t miss it, though. She lifts my hands to inspect them, taking care to remain gentle and not cause any more pain.

“What. Happened.” Each word is sharp and demanding, though I know her ire is not directed at me. She can’t physically see anything on my skin, but the trembling in my hands and the flinch from the lightest of touches is something I can’t hide.

“The information I provided Father was less than satisfactory,” I admit.

A look of shock crosses her face. “This is because of me?”

“No. I made the decision, and I stand by it and the consequences.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “I have very little control over my life; I will not let anyone else take credit formydecisions. They are mine, and mine alone.”

Breyla ponders this a moment then decides to let me keep what little autonomy I have. “I wish to discuss something with you that I should have brought up sooner.”

Internally, I bristle, unsure where this is going. “Okay,” I start softly and evenly. “About what?”

“I’m no fool, Ophelia. I know I should be dead right now. The night I was attacked, you healed me. Aurelius said I should speak to you.”

I release my breath, unsure why I was nervous in the first place. It might be the number of times my father has started a conversation the same way and ended it with unrelenting pain courtesy of his lightning.

“I did,” I confirm.

“And yet, the whole castle believes you to not have powers. Why is that?”

I smile sadly. “My powers manifested later than most. I was twenty-three, and by then my father already believed I was powerless. He has always treated me poorly, but when my powers didn’t come in during my adolescence, his treatment of me grew worse. He made it clear through his actions that he wasn’t above using anyone—especially his own daughter—for personal gain. I don’t know the details of his business dealings, but I know my father is unequivocally not a good male. I refuse to be used by him. If he knew my true abilities, I have no doubt he would find some way to use me—probably to hurt others.”

Breyla contemplates my words for a moment. “What an ass,” she huffs.

A half-hearted chuckle escapes me. “That’s an understatement.”

“So, help me understand something. Can you not heal yourself?” She looks confused.

I sigh, “Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite work that way. When I heal someone, it’s more like I’m trading my energy for their healing. So, I might be able to manage small things, like cuts or bruises, but when he gets like this...” Hesitation fills my voice. “Let’s just say I don’t have the energy to stand, let alone try to heal myself.”

“So, you’re trading your life force for another when you heal them.” I can see her making the connection in her mind. “Meaning when it’s your own body that needs healing, there’s nothing to trade.”

“Essentially.”

“I guess we have so few true healers that we don’t know much about how their power works,” she muses. “I see why you would want to keep the knowledge of your power to yourself. That information in the wrong hands...”

“Could be deadly.”

Among other things,I think to myself.

“I can’t in good conscience keep asking you to feed information to him.” Anguish flashes in her eyes.

“Don’t,” I say, my voice stern, and she looks taken aback. “Don’t you dare take that decision from me. I decide what risks to take and what my actions are. You will not take that from me,” My guess is she didn’t expect to hear this boldness from me. The truth is, she is one of the only people I feel safe enough with to expose this vulnerability.

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