Page 60 of Ties of Death

Withstand the Blaze

Isit at the foot of Daenn’s bed, my arms banded around my legs, knees tucked against my chest, as I watch Daenn sleep.

He fell asleep soon after I left on Master Healer Tyr’s errand earlier today. The broth I brought back for him still sits untouched on the bedside table.

Master Healer Tyr had no answers for why he woke—none that he gave me, anyway, but he looked ill at ease when I returned. I can’t help but wonder if the idea of a last surge of life before the end occurred to him too.

So I sit and watch Daenn’s chest, terrified that every time it rises will be the last.

He’s dying.

For me.

I can’t get that realization out of my head. It circles and stalks and ambushes any other thoughts that dare stray into my head.

Daenn is dying to protect me.

Never has anyone treated me with such selflessness.

Tolomon certainly never did.

Memories raise unbidden at the thought and flip before me in rapid succession. So many moments where Tolomonbelittled me, pushed aside my desires and needs for himself. Isolated me. Never once did he commit a selfless act on my behalf. I was nothing but his prized wife, there to be pretty and give him heirs—and I couldn’t even do that properly. He was always subtle in his comments, but he made it clear how much Idisappointedhim with that failure.

I hoped to grow to love him when we first married, even if I never could care about him as I cared about Daenn, and I hoped he would grow to love me, but time disabused me of that. I resigned myself to it. It was not a pleasant existence, but it was… fine.

All right, in the quiet of my heart, I could admit it was worse than fine. But I was resilient.

But when compared to how Daenn treats me—with tenderness, respect… with selfless love.

There is no comparison.

I was never anything but another possession to Tolomon. It hurt to admit, every time. I knew for a long time, but his presence was all I had for years; he made sure of that, sending away anyone who showed me kindness, keeping me from visiting the clan after our wedding. He always hated when I mentioned the clan, especially Daenn. It’s really no wonder Tolomon hated him enough to attack on sight. Tolomon was nothing if not possessive, and he probably couldn’t stand the idea of me favoring anyone or anything over him. Objects, after all, aren’t supposed to have their own preferences.

No. Tolomon didn’t love me. But Daenn… he has loved me and cared for me since we were children. He’s always cared for others. I knew this about him; I just didn’t realize how deeply that ran. But I can’t ignore it now. Knowing that he originally came not to steal me away… that was a decision born of desperation and too little time to think, from a belief it was theonly way I’d go along with him because he thought I loved Tolomon and would harbor hatred for his killer.

And I did nothing to disabuse Daenn of that notion, with my questions about why he killed Tolomon, all because I was too afraid to ask about what I really wanted to know—why he treated me with as little respect as Tolomon would.

And now… Daenn loves me enough to die for me. Maybe it’s only friendship that drives him—we do have such a long history—but it’s love nonetheless.

And I can’t stand it.

I can’t stand it because I love him.

That truth sears me, burning through every lie I’ve told myself about my feelings for Daenn; none of them can withstand the blaze. I love my husband. I always have, since we were hardly more than children. I missed him more than my own mother when I went away to the lowlands. He was the constant in my life that I pined for once it was out of my reach. I buried it when I was ordered to give myself to another man, but it was never truly gone. One can’t simply forget a man like Daenn Henriken.

And I know, with a certainty as clear to me as my newfound self-awareness: I can’t let Daenn die.

I have to save him. Maybe his fears are founded and it will kill me too, but I have to try. If I fail and it does kill me, it’s not like he’ll know.

And if it doesn’t, well. He can rage at me once he’s alive and whole again. I’ll happily take his wrath if it means he’s here to deliver it.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Through the bond, I reach for the bracers. I can see how they’ve sunk claws into Daenn’s magic, into Daenn, and I try to force myself betweenhim and them, but I might as well be trying to bend iron with my bare hands.

I need to do more.

I open my eyes. Daenn’s chest rises, as shallow as ever. I shift forward, onto my hands and knees, and I crawl forward until I’m sitting by him, level with his torso. I stare for a long moment, considering my options.

Daenn’s clothing choices are like armor, even when he’s out of his leathers. Not that they’d stop a blade, but he uses them as a shield, so there’s no risk of accidentally brushing someone, even though he’s admitted himself his magic doesn’t seem to require touch.

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