Page 27 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

I tensed, and he placed his palm over it. “Tell me. No matter how bad it is, no matter what he did… tell me what he said. How he hurt you. Tell me. Share it with me. Let me carry some of it for you.” Then he met my eyes again. “Please.”

“But—”

“Bren, when my friend died, I carried that grief like bad food in my gut—but I got everything done just fine. Until I had to stop. A soldier’s strength isn’t in bearing everything alone. It’s in holding it aside until it’s safe to exorcise the demon of it. You’re safe now. I’ll stand guard. You can fall apart. And it will feel like you’re losing yourself. But then you’ll have it out, and then you’ll calm, and we’ll keep working.”

“But—”

He shook his head, and his grip tightened on my hand. “If you truly want to overcome the fear. If you want to break the control he’s got over your body, you can only do that by speaking the truth. And reminding yourself you lived.”

I stared at him, my stomach sinking. I didn’t want to talk about it. That would bring it all back again. But I couldn’t make those words come out. The way he looked at me…

I swallowed, then broke his grip on me and cupped his face, leaning forward to kiss him slowly. When I pulled back, my sight was blurred again and I had to whisper because my voice didn’t want to work.

“I’ll tell you, on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You tell me yours, too.”

His eyes widened and for a moment I thought he’d deny me. He opened his mouth and closed it again, twice. But then finally he cleared his throat and nodded. “You have my word,” he rasped.

I blew out a breath and threw my arms around his neck as he gathered me in, picked me up, carried me out of the bathing room, through the sitting area, and into the bedchamber.

Then he laid me down, crawled into the bed with me, wrapped me in his arms, tucked my head under his chin, and urged me to speak.

And I did.

And I told him everything.

The fear.

The defeat when I thought Carnage would flame us.

The confusion when he left.

The relief when I’d thought Donavyn had come for me, that crashed immediately into despair when it was Ruin who slipped in the door. Like the ghost of my past that would never leave.

Donavyn’s grip tightened on me for a long time after that. But now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop, so I kept whispering, my lips against the skin of his neck.

The mocking laughter.

The surprise at my skill—and the admiration. And how terrified I felt when his eyes began to gleam.

I’d seen them gleam that way before. I knew what it meant.

And then I fought. But he won.

I clambered away, but he pulled me back.

I tried to hurt him, but he stopped me.

If I hadn’t had a blade…

“But you did. And even if you hadn’t, you have me. I’m a weapon for you, too, Bren.”

I blinked back to the present at his words to find myself laying in Donavyn’s arms, trembling, my cheeks wet with tears. Yet, that yawning chasm in my chest eased closed, pressed by his embrace.

“Y-you are,” I whispered and kissed his chest, fresh tears trickling down my cheeks at the memories of his sudden salvation. The hope that rose in me when he appeared.