Page 23 of Blood Freed

I pull in a breath, remembering what I’d been trying to do. I resume my steady breathing, my hands resting on my knees, straightening my posture. If I can’t connect with him, maybe I can connect with the healing forces around me. Maybe I can strengthen myself for what I need to do.

Save him.

“Mia?” The door creaks open, and I sense Mom before I see her, that familiar mix of flowers and herbs that follows her everywhere. My eyes stay closed, maintaining the meditation stance even as her worried energy fills the room.

“Mia, sweetheart. I brought you some tea.”

I don’t respond. Maybe if I stay still enough, they’ll leave me alone with my thoughts. With this aching emptiness where Soren’s presence should be.

God, Mia. When did you turn into such a bitch?

“Georgia, let her rest,” Dad’s voice comes from the doorway, but his footsteps enter the room anyway.

“She needs to drink something,” Mom insists. The ceramic mug clinks as she sets it on my bedside table. “Mia, please. You’re still recovering. You need your strength.”

I feel their gazes on me. The air thickens with their concern; I can almost feel it against my skin.

“She’s doing something…probably involving him,” Dad mutters, voice tight with barely contained anger. “Look at her posture – that’s not rest, that’s magical meditation.”

Mom’s sharp intake of breath cuts through the room. “Mia, stop this. You’re only hurting yourself.”

I open my eyes then, meeting their worried faces. Mom stands closest, her hands twisted in the hem of her shirt – a nervous habit she’s had as long as I can remember. Dad looms by the door, arms crossed, jaw clenched in that way that means he’s holding back words he thinks will upset me.

“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice comes out hoarse, betraying me. “The tea can wait.”

“No, it can’t.” Mom picks up the mug again, holding it out like a peace offering. “And this…this obsession with him needs to stop. He kept you prisoner for a year, Mia.”

“He saved me,” I snap, the words bursting out before I can stop them. “Why do I have to keep repeating this?”

“Don’t speak to your mother that away, Mia,” my father warns. “We know it’s been hard for you, but you have to know that we suffered too.”

My mother’s eyes have misted over, and now I feel like shit.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to unclench my jaw. “I’m sorry. You’re right – I shouldn’t snap. I know you were worried.” I shift on the bed, making space. “Sit with me?”

Mom perches beside me, the mattress dipping slightly. Her hand finds mine, warm and familiar. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Really?”

“Tired.” I accept the mug of tea from her other hand. “But stronger than yesterday.”

“Are you having any pain?” Dad’s stance softens slightly, though he remains by the door. “The healers said there might be lingering effects from the magical restraints.”

“Just some general soreness. Like muscle aches.” I sip the tea, letting its warmth spread through me. “Nothing serious.”

“And…emotionally?” Mom squeezes my hand. “You’ve been through so much.”

I stare into my mug, watching the herbs swirl. “I’m processing. It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated because of him,” Dad mutters, tension creeping back into his voice.

Before I can respond, Gran appears in the doorway. She takes in the scene – Dad’s rigid posture, Mom’s hovering, my careful neutrality – with those sharp green eyes that miss nothing.

“Lake,” she addresses Dad, “perhaps we could give Mia some space to drink her tea?” Her tone is gentle but carries that unmistakable note of authority that even Dad rarely challenges.

Dad opens his mouth as if to protest, then closes it. “Of course, Mother.” He glances at me, conflict clear on his face. “We just want to protect you, Mia.”

“I know, Dad.” I try to smile, though it feels strained. “I know.”

He observes me for a moment, as if he wants to say something more, then turns and follows Gran down the hall.

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