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The sky is a kaleidoscope. Bright ribbons of oranges, reds, and violets weave into darker shades of night as the sun slips below the horizon. Though the day’s warmth lingers, a sign that spring has chased away the biting chill of winter.
I make my way up the knoll beyond the manor. Alaric stands before the mausoleum, hands in his pockets, lost in thought.
Inside the white stone monument rests the loved ones we have lost. Shortly after returning to Windbury, we had them brought here to give them the respect they deserve. Though they are in the Otherworld, we will never forget them.
I stop beside Alaric and join him in silence. Sometimes he comes up here by himself. He doesn’t say what he does, and I don’t ask. But I think he comes to work through the mess of scars left behind by the curse.
“That day in the field,” he says after a while. “Elizabeth broke her own curse.”
Several heartbeats pass. I am speechless.
“It was something you said—she cursed me when I agreed to become her consort in exchange for your protection.”
Of course. I assumed, it broke when she died but the answer was there all along. It’s the reason she held back as long as she did. If I died as she wanted, she still would have got what she wanted. Satisfaction curls in my chest that I ruined her plans simply by staying alive.
“I picked up the dagger because I thought she would order me to kill you. I never intended to offer her the means to do it. I never expected she’d go as far as she did.” He glances at me from the corner of his eyes. “I am sorry. You suffered—you almost died—because of me.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You did the best with the options you had. Elizabeth took away your memories and free will. She used her power so you would only see what she wanted you to see—not the truth.”
Alaric hasn’t spoken about it since the day I woke up, and I never pushed him to. Trusting that he would come to me when he was ready. Whether he tells me everything now, or in pieces over the years ahead of us, I will be here. Waiting.
A lazy breeze sweeps through the graveyard, ruffing the ends of his black hair. Alaric slips his hand from his pocket and waves his fingers through mine. The gentle squeeze expresses so much. Gratitude. Seeking comfort as well as giving it.
I am not entirely sure how much of that is how well I know him or what I sense through our bond. Perhaps a little of each. It doesn’t matter how I know, only that I do.
“I should have told you sooner….” His voice is barely audible.
“No. I’ve always known you will tell me what you can in time.” He finally turns his face to mine. “I will always be here, waiting, whenever you are ready.”
I hate the shadows that pass over his eyes, haunting him. I cannot chase them away or shield him from them. But I can be with him. I can be there, listening, holding him, distracting him, being and doing anything he needs until the worst of it passes. I will be his safe place, offering refuge and my love.
“You can tell me every detail about the curse, or never speak a word about it.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Alaric exhales a long, shaky breath. A steeling, a letting go.
“Every second was agony,” he says quietly. “My thoughts were not my own. Everything I did or believed was based on lies.” A shiver vibrates through him. “I think the worst part was the constant feeling—knowing—that something important was missing and not being able to identify what it was.”
He falls silent, and I wait for him to continue or to signal that he is done for now.
Healing is not something that should be rushed. Two people can endure the same injury, but the time they need and the path they take to recover will always differ. And sometimes, it is the emotional and mental wounds left behind that are the slowest to mend. They cannot be bandaged or stitched.
“I was nothing more than a shell of myself.” His gaze hones in on mine with such intensity it renders me breathless for several long seconds. “Except when I was with you. You frightened me at times. It was like coming up from the water and gasping for air, but unable to catch my breath.”
I step into his side and wrap my arms around his waist. He curls himself around me, and we stay like that until the pain eases. Just a little. And then a little longer, until we are able to smile again.
He leans down and kisses me on the corner of my jaw, below my ear. “Thank you, little nightmare,” he murmurs against my skin.
Every once in a while, he will still call me by that name. He says it’s because I am the nightmare that keeps the things that would otherwise break him at bay.
It makes the space between my ribs ache for him. But I will be the nightmare for as long as he needs until his wounds have healed and scarred over.
The clatter of hooves on the drive alerts us to the arrival of our guests. Alaric’s mouth curls into a mischievous grin that sends heat pooling low in my belly.
I take a half step back, but his arms are around me, pressing our bodies together. He kisses me deeply, making my suspicions evaporate.
At first, it starts off light, testing, barely a brush of his lips across mine. I feel the pull of the mark, then something deeper in our bond, but beneath that, there is so much more. It’s quiet in the way it snuck up on me, but no less demanding than all the other ways we are connected.
He has captured my heart in a way I never thought possible. And no matter what we have gone through, no matter what trials we have yet to face. I could no sooner give him up than I could command my heart to stop beating. I wouldn’t want to.
