I raised my hand, cupping her cheek. “Then rest.”
“What about you?”
I glanced over her head at Vidar waiting at the base of the stairs leading into the treehouse.
“I will be alright.”
“The connection,” she said. “Between you. It’s severed, right? Because you… you died?”
“I…” I paused, wishing I could be certain. “I think so. I hope so.”
“I hope so, too.” She tiredly lowered her head and began to walk away.
“Meridan,” I said, drawing her gaze. “I care about you, you know. I always will. No matter what happens,youare my sister. The sister I chose.”
She gawked at me for a long while, sighing like my words had somehow relieved her of a great burden. Her shoulders relaxed, and a gentle, almost unnoticeable smile whispering across her lips.
“I chose you, too,” she said. “I would choose you no matter what.”
When she turned that time to walk away, I knew, no matter how she hid it, that while I was mourning whatever Akareth had taken from me, she was mourning as well. I wasn’t the same Dahlia I was days ago. I just didn’t know what the coming days would reveal about that. Whether I was more or less of the woman I was before I fell to sleep, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was neither. Perhaps I was just different.
Vidar and I retreated to the cabin. Candles had been lit and placed around the room, ridding it of the darkness. I’d said very little about what my dreams had shown me and yet Vidar brightened the cabin like he knew the shadows would upset me.
Because Vidar knew me. He understood what I needed. He always had.
“I know sleep is something you are unlikely to surrender to anytime soon,” he said, pulling off his belts and his weapons and placing them on that rickety side table. “We don’t have to sleep. I’ll stay awake with you as long as I am able.”
I shook my head. “No. You sleep. I can see that you need it. I will lie with you.” I took a step towards him. “Hearing you breathe sounds like the best way for me to spend my night.”
He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking. “If you insist. I haven’t truly slept in a long time.”
“Then I will guard you.”
Vidar sprawled out on his back, one hand behind his head while I stretched out against his side, my head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close, and the way his hardened body felt against me nearly made me forget my nightmares. Nearly. I nuzzled closer, wishing that the closer I got, the more my dreams would dissolve, but I knew better. Splinters from them would always be there.
Vidar let out a deep breath like he truly hadn’t relaxed in days. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking while I was lying unconscious on that same bed, trapped by something he couldn’t see. He was a ruthless man. Had the threat been tangible, with abeating heart and flesh he could rend, I imagined he would have bisected it without a second thought. But the threat was unseen. Untouchable.
For now.
I closed my eyes, listening to Vidar’s steady breaths as he drifted into a much-needed slumber. It was the sweetest lullaby to hear his pulse even out and to feel his muscles relax. I could have spent all night awake if it meant knowing he was having a good rest.
I opened my eyes to a room spinning out of control, the smell of rot and blood coating the inside of my lungs. I sat up slowly, a blanket of cold sweat thick on my skin. Trembling, I got up off the bed, my hands searching my body for… something. When they found my face, my fingers just kept prodding, tracing my nose. My lips. My cheeks.
“Is this real?” I whispered aloud.
I paced the small room, unable to get a full breath of air. My feet scraped on an old wood floor that creaked beneath me. My blouse stuck to my sweat-dampened skin and the breeze from the window cooled me… but was it real? The moon cast shadows about the room like spying demons. Still lying on the bed was Vidar. Or what I thought was Vidar. Darkness covered him and though I could hear his heart beating, it could have very well been a trick.
It had been a trick so many times before.
His belt and cutlass sat on the side table. I approached it, shaking with panic as I slid the blade from its leather scabbard. The bronze edge smelled like hemsbane like it had been freshly sharpened and polished with oil. I stared at it, my skin crawling with the vivid sensation ofhisshadowy touch violating every bit of me.Hisvoice in my ears.
“This isn’t real,” I muttered, grasping the blade with my free hand.
I squeezed, letting the metal slice into my palm. The burn was immediate. The shock would have woken me. Or so I wanted to believe.
Unless I wasn’t sleeping.
Was I sleeping?
