AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Thirty
Hearing about Tristan’s death had Nimue in shambles. She felt directionless and helpless, and she couldn’t help but worry that the same end would come for Chrisdean, her father, and everyone else.
The night after she learned the news, she stayed awake, tears streaming down her eyes and drenching her pillow. Chrisdean had been too busy all night, meeting with Brock and some others whose opinions he respected and discussing what steps they should take as a clan. She was all alone, but she preferred it that way.
She just needed to cry for a while, she told herself, with no one watching or trying to offer their sympathies. She just needed some peace and quiet and a few hours to herself.
But it was morning now, and crying for the whole night hadn’t helped, and neither had staying awake. Nimue was exhausted, but no matter how much she tried to sleep, she simply couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, she was haunted by visions of Tristan’s body. In all of them, he was killed by a sword, and he was lying in a pool of his own blood. In all of them, he seemed scared, so scared to her.
She hoped that he hadn’t been scared. If only she could have been there with him, she thought, she could have comforted him in his last moments on earth.
At least noo he’s with our maither. Wherever they are, I hope that they’re happy.
Tristan had been too young to die, but that was often the fate of soldiers. Nimue could only be glad that Guinevere was still alive and well and that she hadn’t lost everyone she held dear.
With difficulty, she managed to push herself upright on the bed, squinting at the morning sun. It was a beautiful day, a surprise after so many days of cloud and darkness, but there was no joy inside her. Moving was difficult, as though her body had a mind of its own and refused to cooperate with her. Her legs felt heavy and her arms impossible to lift, while her eyes remained wide open, protecting her from any more mental images of Tristan’s corpse.
When she stood, she didn’t know where to go. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay in the room any longer.
In the end, she decided to roam the grounds, and she fastened her earasaid around her before heading out. When the fresh air hit her, she felt as though she could breathe for the first time. She felt a little lighter, the burden that she carried a little lessened.
It truly was a beautiful day, and so she sat by the rosebushes, watching the birds as they flitted about. She hoped that her people would like the Highlands and the castle as much as she did when they arrived, though she knew that nothing would ever compare to home.
It was there that Mairi found her, and she sat next to Nimue, laying a careful hand on her shoulder.
“How are ye feelin’?” she asked, but Nimue didn’t have the words to answer. She could only give her a small shrug, one that conveyed none of what she felt.
Words were too painful still, and besides, she didn’t know what the right ones were. She felt as though she had forgotten how to speak or even think; she seemed to be nothing more than a constellation of pain. Nothing seemed to matter after all that death and destruction.
“I see,” Mairi said. “Ye ken . . . when Laird and Lady MacIntosh died, Chrisdean . . . he was inconsolable. He wouldna talk to anyone for weeks. He didna eat, he didna sleep. I didna ken what to do with him. He was never the kind of bairn to listen to anyone, but after what happened to them, he was especially difficult. Na one could get through to him.”
Nimue turned to look at Mairi, wondering where she was taking the conversation. She was not a child, after all, and she was certain that she would soon regain her wits, no matter how much pain she was in. She just needed a few days, she told herself. That was all she needed.
“I thought it would be different with me, but I didna ken what to say to him,” Mairi continued. “But then . . . then I realized that I didna need to say anythin’. I just needed to be there for him and to keep him occupied until his soul could heal. No words can make this right, but if ye wish to come help me pick herbs or if ye’d like a worthy chess opponent, I am here. I am always here.”
Nimue could hardly speak once more. There was so much kindness in Mairi’s voice, so much sympathy that it almost drowned her, and she could only look at her for a few moments, trying to blink back the tears. “Thank ye, Mairi,” she said. “It means a lot to me. But . . . but I think I’d like to be alone for a while.”
Mairi nodded in understanding and, after pressing a kiss onto her cheek, left without another word. Nimue was grateful, as she didn’t want Mairi to see her cry. It would only cause the other woman more sorrow.
For the rest of the day, Nimue kept to herself. She tried to eat, but nothing would go down, and so in the end, she decided to just return to her chambers. She thought that some rest would do her good, but she had no illusions that resting would be easy. Her mind was full of thoughts, the memory of Tristan looming over her at every waking moment.
She had just managed to close her eyes when the door opened, and Chrisdean stumbled in, looking haggard and gaunt, dark circles weighting his eyes. He approached the bed with heavy steps and lay down next to her, losing his clothes in the process.
The moment that he was close enough, Nimue grabbed him and pulled him into her arms, relieved to have him there. As much as she had wanted to spend the day alone, she could never refuse Chrisdean’s company. His mere presence made it easier for her to breathe, to move on.
Cupping her face with a gentle hand, Chrisdean silently leaned closer, kissing Nimue softly, softer than he ever had before. Nimue welcomed the contact, laying a hand on his chest as she kissed him back. It was comforting and sweet, and it made Nimue’s heart swell in her chest, knowing how much Chrisdean loved her.
When he pulled back, Nimue laid her head on the pillow, watching him in the half-light of the moon that streamed in through the windows. She traced the lines and angles of his face with a finger, smoothing a thumb over his jawline and his nose, committing every single detail to memory. The sudden death of her brother had shaken her, and it had made her fear that she would lose everyone else she loved, too. She just wanted to keep Chrisdean with her forever, no matter what happened to the two of them.
“How are ye, lass?” Chrisdean asked her, his voice so soft that she could barely hear it. She didn’t know whether to tell him the truth. A lie would be less painful, she decided.
“I’m fine.”
Chrisdean didn’t speak, but Nimue could see that he didn’t believe her. She was grateful for his silence, though, and she buried her face in his chest, giving herself a semblance of safety in his arms.
“I will always be here for ye,” Chrisdean told her. “Anythin’ ye need to say to me, ye can say it whenever ye wish. I willna push ye, but ken that I will always listen.”
His words were not enough to push away her grief—Nimue knew that nothing but time could do that—but they were enough to calm her, to lull her into a half-sleep.
“I love ye,” Chrisdean whispered.
“I love ye, too,” Nimue said, and she had never spoken truer words.
