Page 78 of Of Withering Dreams
Kaden didn’t.
Yet we had both shattered anyway.
28
GOLDEN BRIDLES
“You love who you love, my dear.” Derya rubbed gentle circles on my back as I lay on my side, lost in the churning sea beyond my window. “There wouldn’t be so much heartache if everyone could force it to beat for just anyone.”
“He isn’tjust anyone,though. I …” I choked on my words, forcing down the swelling sob that wanted to break free. “There’s something wrong with me. Why can’t I love him like he needs me to?”
A faint click echoed through the room, and my body lurched. Letti and Breena walked to the bed, settling on either side of me. Letti scooped me into a hug. A dry sob clawed from my chest, knocking into her shoulder.
Derya must have called for reinforcements.
Letti released me, taking my hand in hers and resting it on her crossed knees. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Just give him space to work through what he needs to. You can’t take away his pain, but Derya’s right—if you don’t feel the same, being honest was the kindest thing to do.” She rubbed her delicate thumb over the inside of my palm. “And it’s okay for you to feel however you feel. You’re your own person, with your own mind and heart.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Ryn. You’re allowed to have a tumble without getting all the feels involved.” Breena rubbed my shoulder.
I sniffled, my lips hiding between my teeth. My throat was raw, my chest hollow and achy.
Wordlessly, Derya handed me a warm cup of tea. The preventative tonic. A watery lump formed at the base of my throat. I nodded, sipping the bitter brew, allowing it to wash my grief away.
All day, my doubt and guilt had hurtled through my racing mind. Overwhelming shame consumed me—for not seeing the depth of my best friend’s feelings before it was too late. Before he was in such pain.
For allowing my desires to take the lead and ignoring my own feelings.
Or had I not wanted to acknowledge the truth? I wasn’t sure anymore. Either way, this is where we were, and I’d have to deal with it.
Just not now.
Exhaustion slithered through my body, hooking into my very soul and calling for surrender. I set the empty cup on my nightstand and laid back, settling my head on Letti’s thigh. She stroked my hair as I soaked in her quiet comfort.
“How will we get through the rest of the trials?” I whimpered.
Breena leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “In time, the little holes in both your hearts will heal. In the meantime, it might help to focus on all the holes you’ll stab into others during the trials. Nothing like a good ol’ dagger fight to get over heartache.”
Letti narrowed her eyes, and Breena shrugged, her eyebrows squashing together as she silently mouthed, “What?”
A wry, soggy giggle bubbled from my lips, making them vibrate.
My sister blew out a breath and tucked my hair behind my ear. She wrapped both hands around mine. “You just will, sis. It’s what you do. You’re stronger than you realize—and so is Kaden.”
I sighed, knowing she spoke the truth. But it didn’t mean any of this hurt less.
Time and patience. Why was it that the things we needed the most were always in short supply?
“Thank you. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
Derya clicked her tongue, running her hand over my cheek. “Don’t you ever apologize for that. You’re alive—living is a messy business.”
The final teamsand Elder Craven stood in the center of the training field. Around the edges, hundreds of our peers gawked—not at us or the Evergryn Elder, but at the majestic, winged horses brushing at the grass with their hooves, nostrils flaring, teeth chomping on gilded bridles.
Thick, golden rings shackled their necks. A black mare lunged forward, her wings flaring as she soared to a chorus of mesmerized gasps. The other equines shuffled, signs of frustration stiffening their massive forms. The mare’s body unceremoniously jerked, her muscles straining as her hooves dug into the space around her. Realizing that there was an invisible chain tethering her to the earth, she brayed, huffing and reluctantly floating back to the ground.
“I didn’t think they existed,” Rhaegar whispered, his eyes wide.
None of us did. Pegasi were the stuff of legends—mortal-bred horses gifted wings by the Ancients once they reached Surrelia. My gaze lingered on a chestnut-colored stallion, my heart dipping and breath catching. It looked just like a younger version of my old horse, Alweo.
