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“It’s all thanks to The Seven,” I inform her. “They led me here.” I begin picking bits of soft fruit off the tray, the kind that will be easiest to chew.
Laura stares at me silently but does not respond. I suspect that she does not have the same relationship with The Seven that I do, which is not unfamiliar to me. I’ve met many who cannot see their guidance, largely because they fail to open their eyes to it. It is all around us, if one only cares to look.
She clears her throat, changing the topic. I don’t pursue my line of thinking further. Despite being a dedicated servant, I hate proselytizing. The Mother makes herself known to those who are ready, and it is not up to me to change anyone’s mind.
“A demon came to call on you,” she begins hesitantly. “We put him off, for now, as we weren’t sure you wanted to see him. For all that we know, he is the one that did this to you, and we certainly weren’t going to let him near you again.”
At her first words, I feel my heart soaring, thinking of Volikan. But then as she continues, it occurs to me that her instinct could be right. What if it is Drir’gen, trying to finish what he started?
My heart pounds nervously as I ask for clarification, trying to decide if I am overjoyed or nauseous. “What is his name?” I finger a piece of fruit anxiously, unable to eat any more until she responds.
“Volikan,” she confirms. My tense body relaxes. A dull ache spreads through me, but I’m too focused on my thoughts to give it more than a passing notice.
“He is good,” I confirm, beginning to weep at the mention of his name. As glad as I am that Laura was here to save me, all I really want is to be back at home with him. Images spring to mind that replay my trauma before my very eyes.
“He was always good to me,” I stress urgently, seeing the hesitation in her eyes. “It was others who tried to hurt me and take me from him. I was happy there. He did his best to fight Drir’gen off once, but then he came back again.”
Laura’s jaw clamps together, tight. She gives me a hard, steely expression, searching my face. “Are you sure?” she responds. Her voice is firm, as if demanding the truth.
But I have spoken my truth. I try to wipe my teary eyes, flinching as my fingers brush across my tender face, bumping into cuts and bruises I can not see. “Yes. Volikan is very good.” It comes out as a whisper, earnest but soft.
Laura softens. Turning to fetch a handkerchief, she perches on the edge of my bed. As she gently wipes my face for me, a thought occurs to me.
“Is he okay? Where is he now?”
“He’s here,” she admits. “He refused to leave, even though we wouldn’t let him see you. He said he’d wait.”
I suck in my breath, ignoring the ache that blooms in my ribs. “Send him in,” I demand, starting to feel giddy. “I want to see him.”
“Anastasia, are you sure?” she says, repeating her earlier doubt.
“Yes,” I say, my voice unusually assertive. I can’t help but grin at the prospect. She seems to notice my demeanor and smiles a little herself. Sighing good naturedly, she finally stands up.
“Fine,” she agrees. “I’ll fetch him.”
As I wait, I stare down at my tray of food. I know that I should eat more, but I just can’t seem to make myself. I’m a bundle of nerves as I wait to see Volikan, an unfamiliar glee filling my chest that leaves no room for food.
I hear his heavy footsteps leaping up the stairs, practically running in his eagerness to see me. Then he pokes his head in the doorway of my room, looking guilty and sheepish.
His face shifts when he lays eyes on me, a confusing mixture of concern and joy at war on his features. The guilt in his eyes remains. He moves slowly to stand by my bed, looking uncertain.
“Volikan,” I breathe, feeling suddenly thunderstruck at the sight of him. “Kiss me,” I demand.
He looks surprised at my request. “Are you certain?”
“We’ve been apart for hours,” I insist. “You owe me one.”
He bends over, gently cupping my chin as he delivers the most tender, heartwarming kiss I’ve ever had. I can feel my very soul quiver in response, sensing his care.
“I owe you more than that,” he admits as he pulls away, looking regretful. He falls to his knees beside my bed, one hand lovingly brushing my hair back from my face. His gaze travels over my body, evaluating my condition.
As he looks, I can see a muscle in his jaw begin to twitch. But he softens again when he looks back at me. “I’m going to make this right,” he vows seriously. “Drir’gen and his scum friends won’t live long enough to see the sky darken.”
“I don’t want you to lose yourself,” I argue. Sensing the anger that boils underneath his surface, a flash of fear races through me. Not for myself, but for him.
I am afraid that if he enters that dark, angry state of his, the good Volikan will never come back. I can’t bear the thought. It would split me in two.
“I won’t,” he assures me. “I just need to finish this. He won’t get the chance to hurt you again.”
