Page 81 of Queen of the Night
Ikar stands before me, my favorite half-smile onhis lips. I drink up his blue eyes that always look so serious. Wind ruffles his hair, and he looks healthy and strong as ever. Relief washes over me in tingles that rush through my body as my eyes devour his presence. There’s a path behind him, and he reaches for my hand as if to pull me along as he traverses it. His warmth calls to me, even from here, and it feels as if my soul begins to thaw simply being in his presence. I stretch my hand out to grasp his,wanting more than anything to feel his hand in mine, but he’s just out of reach.
I take a step, and another, and another, but no matter how many I take, I never get any closer. Tears begin to track down my cheeks as the look of frustration and confusion on his face deepens.
“I don’t know what’s happening…” His voice is distant, muted.
I’m not ruining this dream by telling him he’s dead. I let my hand fall to my side and quit trying to reach him. He turns to look over his shoulder at the path.
“Don’t do it,” I instinctively say, stepping forward even though it doesn’t bring me any closer.
I don’t know what that path means or where it goes, but I fear if he traverses it without me, I won’t ever see him again. Even if the only time I’ll ever see him is in my dreams, I’m selfish enough to ask him to stay.
I’m not one to beg, but I’ll drop to my knees if I have to. “Stay with me.”
His blue eyes delve into mine, and the half-smile returns. “Always.”
Chapter 46
Vera
Iwake with eyes so puffy I can hardly see straight, but I spot fresh water and a plate of food nearby. I tear off a chunk of the bread, finding it dry and crumbly between my trembling fingers. I drop it back to the plate—it’s been sitting for hours. I have no desire to eat. I simply wanted to have a guess at how long I slept.
I look at the one small window set in the wall, trying to determine if I have the strength to move my body to get there. I stare at it listlessly. The gloam makes it difficult to tell where the suns might be, but I would guess it’s late afternoon. I slept an entire day, and if I could keep sleeping, I would. I close my eyes and see the image of Ikar from my dream. I’m tempted to return to sleep, curious if I’ll find him again. My burning eyes beg to close, and my lids begin to droop, but before I move to get comfortable and let sleep take me, the gloam around the door disappears, and it swings open to allow a willowy woman to enter.
I blink blearily in disbelief. “Tatania?”
He captured our leader?
She carries two large bowls, and a guard carries a basin of water in behind her.
“Avenara,” she says, her brows knitting with concern as she takes in my disheveled appearance. She sets the bowls down and sits on the bed beside me, wrapping me in her arms, not appearing to care about the state of my hair or clothes. She smells of soft mint, and her motherly presence is comforting, something I hadn’t known I needed, but no tears come—my numb blanket is secure.
She leans back, but keeps a soft hand on my shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I croak, cringing at how rough my voice sounds. I feel like a small child in her presence.
“Come.” She tugs me by the elbow and leads me to a small dressing table with a mirror. The last thing I want is to see myself in this state, so before I catch sight of my reflection, I snatch the chair and ensure it’s facing away.
Tatania drags a small table over to set the bowls of water on, then without asking permission, she gently takes one of my hands and dips it into the warm water. We make no attempt at conversation. I’m grateful she seems to sense I don’t want to talk. So I sit here feeling like a traitor as I watch her clean them. The blanket of numbness begins to slip the smallest bit as I watch the way Ikar’s blood blooms in a red cloud as she scrubs my skin and nails free. Will I forget him just as easily? I can hardly remember my parents’ faces anymore, and I know it will be the same. The thought triggers panic as I dig for memories—his smile, his scent, his strong arms around me, flying so fast through my mind I can hardly revel in them as I try to brand them into my memories forever.
“…clothing to wear to dinner.”
Her comment jars me from my thoughts. “What?”
“Renton, he sent clean clothing for you to wear to dinner,” she repeats, not seeming to mind that I wasn’t listening.
The hoarseness of my voice, combined with the sharp laugh that erupts, sounds like a bark. “I’m not attendingdinner.”
She pauses her washing temporarily and looks at me with a frown, but all I notice is that the cloth she holds suspended above the water drips red. “He’s a powerful man, Vera.”
My voice comes out flat and hard. “You’d have to make me care.”
The numbness descends again.
“Sometimes we must play the game to get what we want.” I spot a flash of something in her eyes that disappears with a blink. I don’t have the emotional energy to wonder about it further.
What I want is gone.
She pours water from the fresh bowl over my hands. Soon enough they’re clean, as if nothing ever happened. I hate it. I don’t want to move on. Every minute that passes since he died means one more minute this world will never have him again, and it hurts. I may have run from him, but it doesn’t mean that’s what my heart wanted.
