Page 51 of The Mirror in the Mountain

She gave me a nonchalant smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Isn’t that enough?”

We rode back through the night, the journey tense. By the time we arrived, Eva had retreated even further into herself. By the time we reached our room, my hands were shaking.

Eva methodically undressed, reaching for a nightshirt. And suddenly I felt desperate to scramble for purchase. To grab her by the shoulders and keep her there with me.

After all, she should know by now—if she was descending into darkness, there was nothing that would stop me from going down with her.

My voice was gruff as I demanded, “Don’t close me out, hellion. Whatever you’re thinking, we’ll deal with it together.”

Eva’s shoulders stiffened. Her lips parted, as if she were about to speak, then pressed tightly back together. A sick, anxious feeling coiled in my stomach. When I stepped toward her, her gaze darted away.

“I’m just tired,” she said, her voice carefully flat. “It’s been a long night.”

I was sure it was something more. Was it the fear of facing Aviel yet again? Even though she had been able to get away from him, she had endured far too much during our time apart with barely any time to process it. Maybe this distance was due to the inevitability of confronting her tormentor. Especially after I had failed to stop him, despite my promises otherwise.

The thought was too heavy to carry.

“Last time we went after Aviel, I told you I’d never let him touch you again.” I swallowed hard. “And I failed you, Eva.” Her gaze shot to mine, an onslaught of emotions breaking through the damper she held on them in a dense current of fear, guilt, and anger. “You can be angry about what happened, be mad at me for leaving you again all you want, but please don’t shut down on me.”

Her eyes softened, something wistful twisting across her face. “That’s not—I don’t…” She stepped forward, grabbing both of my hands in hers. “I would never blame you for his actions. And you shouldn’t blame yourself for mine. I made my own choices, and I stand by them.”

Her hands were so cold. Her calluses scraped against my own as my thumbs moved up and down, attempting to warm them.

“You can talk to me though…you have to know that. Not that you need to if you don’t feel ready.”

Her face shuttered, those hazel eyes guarded. “Talk to you about what?”

“About what happened to you.”

She hadn’t gone into detail when she told me what occurred in that bedroom before her escape, and I hadn’t pressed. The shadow that flickered behind her eyes sent a chill down my spine.

Her lips twisted to the side in a semblance of a smirk, though their slight quiver gave her away. “What else do you want me to say? That he chained me, that he held me down and…” She drew in a long, shuddering breath. “That I was sure my luck had finally run out when he had me magicless and trapped?”

The pure, primal rage I felt at those words had me shaking. She reached up, absently rubbing the scar at the base of her neck as she spoke, the other hand clenching into a fist as she pulled it from my hold.

“When he stripped my magic from me and took the collar off, Iknewyou could feelmy terror about what was happening just like I could feel yours. And it only made things that much worse.”

My heart snagged in my throat at the thought of how Aviel had used that bond against us, had weaponized my fear against her. I moved forward, aching to hold her, but stopped myself—letting her steer this, especially now.

“I fought and I failed, Bash.” I flinched at the self-loathing in her voice, its echo viscous as it twisted down our bond. “Again. If he hadn’t left the collar on the bed…”

“You didn’t fail,” I said vehemently. “Even if he’d raped you, you wouldn’t have failed anything.” I could feel my shadows erupt down my arms at the thought, betraying my need to reach for her. “And it wasn’t luck that saved you. You had the wherewithal, even after days of captivity, even after that box they held you in, to find a way to save yourself. To keep fighting.”

Even when I wasn’t able to fight for you.

Her bleak eyes met mine. “How is this helping besides hurting you to hear it?”

“This isn’t about me,” I said gently. “This is about letting it out. Voicing it to come to terms with what happened.”

I could see her trembling as her eyes closed in defeat. “I know. Iknow.And I know I can talk to you, Bash…It’s not even about—” She cut herself off, swallowing hard. When she reached toward me I had her in my arms in a second, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“I hate feeling helpless,” Eva said hoarsely, her words muffled against my chest. “I hate that he made me feel that way again. And Ihatehow much he scares me.” She let out a wild, choked sound. “I don’t know if I evencanstop him when the time comes. All I’ve been able to do so far is barely get away.”

I had never heard her sound like this. Even during those tremulous early days at the cabin, she had never sounded quite so defeated.

“I would never be so foolish as to doubt you,” I whispered into her hair. “But we’ll be ready this time.”

She opened her mouth like she was going to say more, then pulled away instead. And I had no idea how to hold on to her—to keep her here with me. Not when my promises lacked the conviction of her own experience.

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