That is part of it, but also, “No mother would want to leave this world before her child.”
My mate lowers her gaze and lets me arrange the svytyn prócha. I weave thin branches together to create the foundation for the boat. Then, I gather moss and leaves, arranging them in a circle, leaving space in the middle. Noël watches my every move, then gathers more leaves to fill the empty spots. I notice that she avoids touching me, moving her wrists at unusual angles so she won’t brush against mine.
The svytyn prócha is usually the size of a large leaf, so we don’t take much from nature to honor the departing souls.
I watch my mate as she leans toward the roses.
There’s a tenderness in the way she handles the roses, carefully placing them at the center of the small farewell boat we’re crafting.
“When we say farewell to the dead,” I add, “we light a flame to guide them. In Ávera, we often use wax with leaves, but here we’ll improvise.”
“Like a candle?”
“Humans call it that?” I smile as she nods. Her curiosity is adorable.
Together, we finish the small boat, weaving branches and leaves together, and placing the blue roses in a wreath around the edges. It’s simple, but beautiful, and as I kneel by the stream, I focus inward.
I form two small orbs of energy in my hands, rubbing them together until a small flame ignites in my palms. My Noël watches carefully as I guide the fire down to the tiny boat, and it catches quickly.
Noël leans forward, takes another rose in her hands, and lifts it to her lips. I lower my head, and I hear her move to place therose on the boat. From the corner of my eye, I see her hands tremble as she releases the svytyn prócha into the water. The boat drifts, carried by the current, the blue roses glowing against the dark surface.
“How beautiful,” I whisper, looking at her.
Tears glisten in her eyes, but there’s peace there too, a calm that wasn’t there before.
“It is,” she says. “Thank you, Theron.”
“It is my hono?—”
She jerks her head toward me before I finish the sentence, drawing her brows in. “I did this forher.”
11
BETWEEN THE STREAM AND THE SPEAR
“There are men who will touch your hand and claim your life. You were never meant to belong to an earthly soul.”
—Eyleen Ársa, to her daughter
Noël
Maybe it’s not a bad idea to have a vólkin guard me while I bathe. It doesn’t mean I won’t stab him again if he dares to look, but for now, it’s a good solution.
I place my spear and the handkerchief on the ground, my fingers brushing over the worn fabric as if it holds the last pieces of my sanity along with the crystal wrapped up in it. The stream’s gentle waves lap against the shore, a soothing sound that should calm my racing thoughts, but it doesn’t. So many emotions come and go, one after the other, as I crouch to unlace my boots.
Theron, a creature so big and fierce, calmly held me while I cried uncontrollably in his arms. He tended to my wounds with a care I hadn’t expected from anyone, let alone him. I can still feel his touch. His tongue tracing over the cuts on my hands, his eyeslocked on mine the entire time. His gaze was so intense I could barely breathe.
I kick my boots off and mutter to myself, “This is madness.”
A part of me wanted to pull away, but I didn’t. Instead, I stayed there, letting him heal me. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a man tend to me like that before. Maybe that’s why my chest felt tight, why I couldn’t look away from him.
He didn’t retreat when I stabbed him. He didn’t run away when I fell apart. He stayed. He stayed and held me as if I were something precious. That confuses me so much.
I’ve spent my whole life believing that vólkins are monsters, creatures to be feared, and yet, here is this beast, cradling me like I’m fragile. His demeanor doesn’t match what I’ve been taught to fear, and it’s throwing me off balance.
I shake my head.Foolish woman, what are you thinking?
He grew blue roses for me. With nothing but his will, he made them bloom right before my eyes. They glowed like the roses in my mother’s garden. He made fire from nothing, just by concentrating his energy. It doesn’t make sense. How can any of this be real?
