Page 125 of By the Flames of Her Fury

“You were just trying to love me,” I said. “I know that.”

His forehead pinched. “That’s what I thought I was doing, yes. By handling you with child’s gloves, coaxing you into family dinners and Order meetings, thinking routine would solve all our problems. But that’s where I was wrong. You were never a problem that needed solving, Vera.” He gripped my fingers, clinging to me. “You talk about your tangled mess and your issues as if you need to be fixed. And it makes me sick that I was ever the one to put that thought in your head.”

A tear leaked free and slid down my cheek. “I wish I’d been able to talk to you about this a year ago. I didn’t know what to do.”

The column of his throat moved as he swallowed. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I see you now, Vera,” he murmured. “You just needed me to be there. I thought I was doing everything for you, but maybe what you said the other night was right. Maybe a part of me was trying to change you.”

He stood from his crouch and settled on the edge of the bed. I sat so I was facing him. “I loved you so much, Vera, but I failed you,” he said, reaching up to grip the back of my neck. “And I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“You didn’t fail me.” I wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “I used it as an excuse, but I didn’t run because of you. I ran because of me. I needed space to figure things out.”

“And now?” he asked.

I glanced at our hands, at his thumb tracing slow circles on my neck. The fire had burned lower, darkening the room.

“I still don’t know what I am yet,” I admitted, looking up into his eyes. “I don’t know what I can give you. But I know I don’t want to leave.”

Something shifted in his expression. Not relief, exactly, but his eyes softened. “Then don’t,” he said simply. “And I won’t, either.”

I nodded. He lifted the covers for me to get back under, and I lowered my head to the pillow, a cozy, comfortable exhaustion settling over me. Visions of peaceful rivers and warm water lapped at my mind. “You’re using your magic on me,” I said, eyes already heavy.

“You need some sleep,” he murmured back.

“You’ve always been good at this,” I mumbled, sinking farther into the pillow. “The way you help me and all those kids at the Keep. You really love your job, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I do. They’re just like we were once. I think helping them heals a part of me, too.”

I yawned, and more words tumbled from me. “I’m glad you found where you belong, Everett. And I’m so proud of you.” My eyes fluttered shut. “I’m sorry I never told you that before.”

There was a pause. I wasn’t sure if I said the words aloud, so I peeked open an eye to find his gray and green eyes shimmering as they stared at me. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

He stood to go back to his chair, and I grabbed his fingers, barely conscious. “Don’t go.”

“Vera, I⁠—”

“Please. Just one night.” I tucked his hand closer, urging him onto the bed. A low sigh reached my ears as the mattress dipped.

“You know it’s never just one night for me,” he said. Lips pressed into my forehead, and warm arms settled around me. “Sleep, Vera.”

And I did.

58

Vera

FOUR YEARS AGO

“Did you get some sleep?” Swift asked.

I yawned, and my head spun at the motion. “I did. A little.”

“I have one more raisin left. Do you want it?” The tip of a wrinkled raisin appeared in the hole between our cells. I barely glanced at it before my eyes fluttered shut again.

“Stop trying to give me your food, Swift,” I said, curling my head back into the crook of my arm. “You’re worse than my mother.” I tried to inject humor into my tone, but everything I said sounded the same. Flat. Monotone. Dead.

“Have you even touched your tray the last couple days?”

I cracked open an eye to stare at the tray of murky water, boiled onions, and raisins. Just the sight of it made my stomach lurch. “Not hungry. Tired.”