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He scribbled on the notebook.It’s the least I can do.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded, and I sighed at his persistence.
Konstantin brought out the bed roll. “Good night.”
“Night,” I yawned.
Konstantin turned off the lights and left us alone.
I stretched out on the couch and rested my aching bones. Wendel lay down on the bed roll and closed his eyes, though tension stiffened the muscles in his body. He was still ready to run or fight in a heartbeat.
I knew the feeling all too well.
Darkness invaded my dreams.
I couldn’t escape the coffin factory. This time, I was chained to the wall. Blood slicked my mouth and spilled from my wrists. I snapped my chains, but the Grandmaster blocked my way. He held out his hand to me, beckoning me. Time tortured me with its slowness, favoring my enemies, and left me helpless as they advanced.
I jolted awake with a pounding heartbeat.
It was still night. Wendel was sleeping on the floor. His hands clenched around fistfuls of a blanket, and he jerked like someone had hit him.
I stared at him. Was he also having a nightmare?
He doubled over and shuddered. I shook his arm. He flinched, but didn’t wake up.
“Wendel,” I said.
At the sound of my voice, his eyes snapped open.
He lunged from the bed roll and grabbed me by the arm, driving me back. My shoulders slapped the wall. The shock of it flooded my blood with adrenaline, but I refused to fight back. He was only sleeping?—
The black dagger glinted in his hand by my throat.
“Wendel!” I gasped. “Wake up!”
He was breathing hard, his hand bruising my arm. Then he let me go and staggered back. Awareness sharpened his eyes.
“You were having a nightmare,” I said.
Wendel dropped the dagger. It fell with a dull thud on the carpet. His eyes flickered as he searched my face. He took my arms with cautious gentleness. I flinched when he touched the bruises from his fingers.
“I shouldn’t have woken you,” I whispered.
He recoiled from me, stumbling into a bookshelf, before he sank to his knees on the carpet. He dug his knuckles into his temples. My instincts urged me to put more distance between us. When I backed away, his head jerked up at the sound of my footsteps. Our gazes locked across the room.
Tears overflowed from his eyes. His sobs never made a sound.
My fear twisted into anguish. I dropped beside him and dragged him into my arms. He buried his face against my shoulder, his whole body shaking, his ragged breaths muffled against me. His tears wet my shirt.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, though it was a lie. “It’s okay.”
He pulled away from me, clenched the pen in his fist, and stared at the notebook with unfocused eyes. Without a doubt, he was struggling not to fall apart. Ink dripped from the nib, a black blotch staining the paper.
I don’t belong here. I don’t deserve you.
44
