Page 143 of Of Storm and Emerald
Thedaysfollowinghermother’s death were some of the hardest that she’d ever lived.
She’d spent the first night curled up against Daemon, as sobs wracked her body until she fell asleep. Only to be woken by recurring night terrors of watching her mother die over and over again.
Her throat was raw from the force of her screams, and her eyes were swollen shut from the number of tears that she’d shed.
She refused to eat.
Refused to see anyone aside from Daemon–even Piper and Xander.
By day two, her tears had run dry, and she spent the day curled on her side staring at the wall, until sleep and the nightmares claimed her once more.
She could hear Daemon outside her chamber door updating people on her status.
Could hear the frantic and demanding tone of Xander’s voice, and the crushing sadness in Piper’s, but she couldn’t gather the strength to care.
Sleep.
She just wanted to sleep.
When day three came, Daemon was no longer taking no–or silence–for an answer when it came to hygiene and food.
He ladled warm broth into her mouth, while she stared blankly ahead. But as soon as she was finished, she curled onto her side once more and fell into another round of fitful sleep.
After waking drenched in a cold sweat from yet another night terror, he stripped her out of her nightgown, and carried her into her bathing chamber.
When he placed her into her tub, she didn’t care that the water was scalding. She welcomed the burn. Welcomed anything that made her feel something other than immense grief and the pain in her heart.
She let him care for her. Let him wash her body with slow, gentle strokes. Let his hands massage the soap into her hair and work out the knots that had formed at the base of her skull.
She responded to his commands, but only barely. Lifting a limb when instructed or tilting her head back when he needed to rinse the suds from her strands. But not even his touch could soothe the endless ache.
She was numb to everything and everyone around her.
Brick by brick, she slowly began to build a wall around her crumbling heart.
When he finished, he let the tub drain before wrapping her in a towel, then lifted her into his arms once more and carried her back into her room.
He spoke to her while he dried her off, but his words sounded like they were coming from far away. When he tried to get her to look at him, it was like she was looking through a pane of glass that had been fogged over on an early fall morning.
She could see, but there was a haze in front of her eyes, and nothing was clear.
Dressed once more, she crawled back into bed.
Keeping her back to him as she pulled the covers up to her chin, she silently begged for one night of dreamless sleep.
When she awoke, it was the following morning, and she thanked Rhayne for answering her prayer.
Daemon sat in the bed next to her–fully clothed–with his back against the headboard, and his eyes closed. But the moment she stirred, they popped open and for the first time in four days, she saw him a little more clearly.
His hair was disheveled, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his normally neat stubble was overgrown and unkempt. When she met his gaze, she saw all the worry and sorrow that permeated their depths.
“Auraelia? Can I get you something?” He raised his hand and moved it toward her face, but thought better of it at the last moment, and pulled away.
She pushed up into a sitting position and nodded. “Water.” After screaming for days on end, and not talking at all when she was awake, her voice was hoarse and grated against her sore throat.
Shock flashed across his face at the sound, but he smiled and sprang into action–crossing the room to where a tray with a pitcher and glasses sat next to a plate of simple foods.
He returned to the bed with the glass, and after a few sips, she attempted to speak once more.
