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I call out for my brother. My father. The names of the other men who were just standing beside me only moments ago. It doesn't feel real. I can't believe it's real. But the melting, searing pain is too visceral to be false.
"Santiago."
The name echoes through my consciousness, and I roar in frustration, choking on thick plumes of smoke.
"I can't find you."
"I can't find you."
"Santiago."
Fingers dance over my jaw, dragging me back to another time. The present time. I explode upright, violent breaths stalling in my lungs as I scan the room with wild eyes. They latch onto the first thing they see. A bedpost. A blanket. My bedroom.
I turn slowly and find Ivy staring back at me with concern etched into her features. We’re in my bed, together, still dressed in our clothes. We must have fallen asleep like this.
"It's okay," she whispers, reaching out to stroke my arm. "It's okay."
I’m still shaking, the fit seizing every fiber of my muscles as moisture clings to my forehead. My palms are clammy, and it takes me several moments to regain a normal breathing pattern before I can choke the words from my lips.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No," she reassures me. "I promise you didn't."
I collapse back onto the pillow again, staring up at the ceiling as she curls closer, the warmth of her body pressing against mine. It calms me faster than anything else could. A strange revelation, only compounded by the fact that I don't want her to leave, even though I know she should.
"You shouldn't ever try to wake me," I tell her gruffly. "For your own safety."
"Okay." She acknowledges my declaration. "I just didn't... I didn't like to see you so lost to it. The nightmare. It was so intense, and I was worried for you."
I turn my head to the side, studying her. I want to ask her why she cares. But it's already written on her face. Her emotions are changing. Evolving. She sees me as something she shouldn't. Not a saint, but not quite a monster anymore. I'm somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, I think. And that is a dangerous thing to believe.
For both of us.
"It must be terrible," she says softly. "To experience something like that over and over again."
I avert my gaze. It's not something I care to discuss. She seems to understand, choosing not to press the matter.
"Is everything okay with you and Mercedes?" she asks.
I swallow, and it feels like broken glass gets caught in my throat. "It will be."
I have to believe that. But the truth is, I don't know.
Ivy continues to stroke my arm. It does something to my nerves I can't quite explain, but I'm on the verge of falling asleep again when her voice stirs me.
"What will happen when the Tribunal finds out I'm not pregnant?"
There's an undercurrent of fear in the question, and for once, it doesn't bring me pleasure to hear it.
"As far as they are concerned, you are." I roll onto my side, reaching out to drag the pads of my fingers along her jaw. "That is what we will tell them if they ask. There can be no question. You must act as if it's true."
She closes her eyes, shuddering softly against me. "So, we need to get pregnant as soon as we can."
"Yes."
She's quiet for a long moment, and when she opens her eyes again, something has changed in them.
"If we bring a child into this world together, it should be out of love. Not duty."
Love?
Tension bleeds into my body as I shake my head, but Ivy is quick to stop me before I can speak.
"I know. We have to do this to save my life and protect you from the Tribunal. I understand that. But I need some reassurances from you, Santiago. I need to know if I bring a child into this world with you, that child will be loved. I would rather face my own execution than agree to any other condition. I will not allow my own child to suffer."
"The child will be cared for beyond measure," I force out. "Far beyond any other child."
Ivy studies me, lost in her own thoughts for a few long moments before she gives voice to them. "And what about me? When you get what you want from me, you will kill me?"
I don't want to look at her. I know if I do, my face will betray everything. So instead, I close my eyes, and I kiss her, conveying the truth my words can't.
She whimpers against me, curling her fingers into my shirt. I pull her closer, squeezing her so tightly it must border on the point of pain. But she doesn't protest. She leans into it, giving herself over to me. The nightmare she can't wake up from.
"A child needs a mother," I murmur against her lips.
