“Then tell me how I can help right now. It kills me that I can't comfort you, knowing I am the reason you are falling apart. Whatever you need, whatever you want, just tell me.”
She hesitated for a moment, a deep frown forming on her face, but her tears had gradually slowed, the hum of electricity dying down. “Distract me,” she finally said. “I need some sense of normalcy, even though none of this is normal.”
It was an expected request, a tactic that he’d used in the past to calm her powers. She was right, none of this was normal. Although distracting her from the reality they were in didn’t seem like the right thing to do now, he understood. If this waswhat she needed to push through, to find her light again, then he would obey her demands.
“You know that I reformed the Courts in 1925?” he asked, earning a slight nod from her. “My brothers still don’t know why I restarted them, why I had such a change of heart one day. To be honest, neither do I. Those years I spent in isolation here were strange. I’m not sure when exactly it was, or how long it lasted, but I became ill. Every night I’d wake up sweating, but I wouldn’t be fully awake, as if I had one foot here and the other in another world, one I had conjured in my dreams. It was the first and only dream I’ve had that you weren’t in since… that night.”
Adriana watched him expectedly. “What happened?”
He thought back to those years of loneliness, his self-imposed exile from society. An unnatural feeling of unease gnawed at him as he tried to remember it all. He, a man with such immense power over the mind, who remembered every breath, every fleeting thought, every single moment of his existence since his rebirth, had never been able to fill the void where that dream should have been.
His only logical explanation had been that his own Manipuli power had somehow turned against him in his sickness. Whether that sickness was real or a result of his despair, he did not know, but he could certainly remember it feeling very real. Another explanation was that it was Superus Quies himself who had barred his magic entry to his ethereal realm in retaliation for what he had done. Though the Superi did not involve themselves with the acts of those within the lands of the living, he could not help but feel as though a higher power was punishing him. Or perhaps that was just his wish, so he did not have to be the one to punish himself any longer.
“I can’t remember the specifics or any vivid details,” he explained. “But when I finally completely woke up in our cottage, I saw flashes, fleeting images, and feelings that I knewwere my own but I couldn’t quite remember feeling. I knew that whatever had happened in this dream, I had played a part in helping them. And I realised I wasn’t helping anything in the real world by wallowing in my grief and self-pity. So I thought that I could at least try to help my brothers, to do some actual good in your memory. I could at least try to make amends for everything I had done.”
Xander waited for Adriana to respond, to ask him any further questions, but she didn’t. Her tears had stopped, as had the writhing of the nearby shadows, but she seemed to be at an utter loss for words.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’d like to rest,” she said, quickly, as she stood from the ground and walked back to the direction of the cottage. Just before she made it to the cobbled path, she paused and turned back to him. “Our cottage,” she whispered, her voice carrying in the gentle breeze.
“What about it?”
“You saidourcottage. But you built it after I…” her voice trailed off. “I mean, I’ve never lived there, but you called itours.”
Xander’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t realised he’d said that. Despite it being the truth, despite always referring to his home astheirs, he felt embarrassed to say it in front of Adriana.
“I know I did,” he replied, turning to face the lake again to hide his reddened cheeks. “Because it is ours. It’s our home.”
He waited for her to leave, waited to hear the door close, before he allowed his tears to fall. Healing his pain from their past felt unimaginable, but he had to cling onto the hope that he could at least help her. Even if he could never hold her the way he wanted, even if he could never have her the way he used to, he would take whatever she’d offer him and thank her for it. He would survive through it all to make sure she learnt how to live again.
If reminding her of just how much she meant to him, how much she still meant, was what she needed to overcome their past and find her balance, then that was what he would gladly do. And it seemed, from the subtle glimmer of light he’d noticed in her fingertips when he had confirmed their cottage was indeed her home just as much as it was his, he was on the right track.
Chapter twenty-four
Desire
Adriana
The delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee stirred Adriana from her sleep. She couldn't ignore the peaceful feeling that had grown over the last few days in Xander’s cottage. Though she hated to admit it, she slept so much better wrapped in the sheets that smelled like him. But she knew that at some point, whether today or tomorrow or in the weeks to come, she would have to go back to the real world, and all of this would feel like a dream. And she wanted to keep it as a dream, she didn’t want to mix the serenity of life in the cottage with the cruelty of reality.
Realising her clothes were still in the washing machine in the kitchen, she decided to raid through Xander’s instead. Searching through the top drawer, she found an old book, its leather cover battered and worn. She had seen it before, she realised, yearsago when she would watch Xander scribbling away before hiding it from her prying eyes. She knew it was wrong to snoop, but curiosity got the better of her, as it often always had, and as she flicked through the pages, she was met with countless drawings of herself.
She recognised the style of his work, the similar shading and lines to the drawings in Striga’sTales of Daemonium. The drawings on the first few pages were almost lifelike, a perfect mirror of the person she had once been. As she continued, she found more and more had been left unfinished. It was impossible for Xander to forget her face, his Manipuli power meant he could never forget a single thing. He had chosen not to finish them.
Stuffing the book back in the drawer, Adriana fought back the tears that threatened to spill, refusing to ponder on what the unfinished drawings meant. She opened another drawer and pulled out one of his shirts, biting her lip as she contemplated whether she should wear it. With a huff she pulled it on; it fell to her mid thigh and she had to roll up the sleeves a few times, but it would have to do for the morning.
As she padded through the living room to the kitchen, her bare feet sinking into the soft rugs, she saw the sofa was still rumpled from where Xander had slept. He had stayed on that uncomfortable sofa every single night, but she’d noticed he always kept the living room door open, even though she kept the bedroom’s closed.
They’d spent the last couple of days sitting on the porch of Xander’s cottage, talking through her experiences since her rebirth. He hadn’t made her reach for her light, hadn't even mentioned it. Instead, he’d listened to her stories and only spoken when she’d struggled to continue. But what had started as an unconscious glow in her fingertips had slowly begun tospread across her palms. Her light was there, she could feel it, but it was still too weak to be of use to anyone.
She felt like she was starting from rock bottom all over again, and often allowed herself to feel defeated before she’d even talk. But Xander fought for her—just as he had all those years ago, he brought that fight out of her. Only this time he didn’t decide to do so by royally pissing her off, something he had always been uniquely talented at, he just listened. He still seemed to understand how to keep her balanced more than she did. Even after all this time, he knew her, he knew what she needed.
Adriana knew he needed to help her for his own reasons, too. He clearly hated himself for what he did, had never forgiven himself and likely never would, even though it wasn’t truly him. She knew the toll it had taken on him. She could see it in the way she often found him staring at her, the mixed emotions of longing and heartbreak in his eyes, and sometimes the disbelief that she was really there.
She wanted to be there for him, but she couldn’t yet. Even if he would let her, she couldn’t take on the added weight of his despair, not while she was working tirelessly to come to terms with her own.
As Adriana rounded the corner to the kitchen, she found Xander dressed in a black t-shirt and joggers. He stood at the counter, his back to her as he poured two mugs of coffee.
