Page 51 of Ties of Death

I hesitate a moment, but… Iamstill tired. So I slip back into the bed and uncurl his fingers, wrapping them around my hand. His fingers clamp around mine for a moment before his whole body relaxes.

I wriggle down into my pillow, getting comfortable. I’m already growing sleepy again, despite sleeping all afternoon.

I drift off quickly, but I don’t sleep well this time. Part of it is because Daenn doesn’t sleep well. He’s restless, and everytime he shifts, it pulls me from my dreams, until I can’t even get back to sleep.

He settles more in the latter half of the night, but I can only lie there, staring at the stone ceiling, barely lit by the low glow of dying coals from the firepit. He still holds my hand, and I let him, but the contact only serves as a reminder that soon enough he won’t need me. If the bracers are successful, we’ll part ways. He’ll tell Jakob to dissolve our marriage, which shouldn’t be hard since we never consummated it. He’ll take a new wife, because a king needs heirs, which, as Viggo so helpfully announced to the entire clan, I probably can’t give him.

Such a defective wife.

So instead, I… I will leave. Go… somewhere. I have no idea where. I don’t want to return to the lowlands. This is the only home I’ve ever truly known, the only place I belong.

These restless feelings are what plague me for the rest of the night. Daenn wakes before dawn and leaves soon after. If he realizes I’m awake, he doesn’t acknowledge it, but that’s fine with me. I don’t know what to say to him. Better to say nothing. If his scheme works, we’ll be parting ways soon enough.

I rise soon after he leaves and dress for the day. A thought wormed its way into my head in the middle of my sleepless night, and between worries about my future, it’s been feeding itself on hope and desperation since. I won’t have any peace until I test it.

When I step into the infirmary, Healer Annika straightens and bows to me. “Your Majesty.”

I’ll never get used to that.

I won’t have to, a cynical voice reminds me.

I push it away.

“Good morning. How are the comatose patients?”

Healer Annika grimaces. “No changes, Your Majesty. They don’t wake. We are able to get them to take a bit of broth, but they’re still deteriorating. I fear…” She trails off and glances at Eskil, who lies in the bed she was leaning over when I entered. “I don’t know how much longer they’ll last like this. A few have already… already passed while you and the king were away.”

My heart clenches. Those deaths are my fault. I have to fix this.

“I want to try something. If you don’t mind.”

Uncertainty flickers through Healer Annika’s eyes, but she only steps back and inclines her head. “As you will, Your Majesty.”

I try to exude confidence as I march to Eskil’s bedside and lower myself next to him, perching on the sliver of space his bulk isn’t taking up.

I have no idea if this will work. For a moment I’m paralyzed by that fear. If I attempt this and fail… Eskil will die.

But he’s on course to die if I don’t, too, as the Healer Annika just pointed out. He can’t live like this forever. I swallow my fear and brush my hand over his where it rests on top of his blankets. I don’t know if the physical contact will help, but it feels like the right choice, so I maintain it as I close my eyes and reach for my magic, grasping a thread of it. Instinct has me grabbing not the blended grey of both mine and Daenn’s but instead the soft glowing white that is my magic alone.

With that in my mental grip, I try to sense Eskil, imagining the physical connection creating a bridge between us that I can cross. I follow this path, searching for his mind. It’s like walking blind, but soon enough I do sense a light of sorts. I can’t see it, exactly, but it’s almost like Ican feel it, its brightness and warmth. This is Eskil, I know somehow. It’s suffused with his essence, his easy laugh and fierce loyalty.

But it’s muted, like it’s hidden behind a cloth. I reach out my mental touch, and I am greeted by a wall—but a wall that’s as soft as gossamer silk. It’s there, and it’s strong, but it’s malleable.

Better yet, it’s familiar.

I brace myself, and then I imagine myself gripping that wall, and I give a sharp tug, as if I’m pulling back a curtain. It holds at first, but my will is stronger than my magic. It only takes another sharp tug for it to recognize me and my sovereignty, and all at once it gives way, flooding through me and splashing into the reserve I’d drained the day before while fighting Viggo’s men.

I hear a gasp. Eskil’s hand jerks under mine. I tighten my grip on him and drag myself back over the path I created between us before I release him. Only then do I open my eyes.

Eskil’s eyes are open. He looks like he’s half asleep, but he blinks, and his gaze shifts from me to Healer Annika.

He’s awake. I did it, and I didn’t kill him in the process.

“You broke the curse,” Healer Annika whispers, her voice full of awe. “You’re winds-blessed.”

I give a faint shake of my head, but I don’t care to argue with her, so I don’t respond otherwise. Instead, I address Eskil. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts, moves to sit, and groans. “Like I’m on the tail end of a terrible sickness. My whole body is weak.”

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