“Well,” I said flatly. “Surviving until breakfast sounds ideal at the moment. Then, who knows. Maybe I’ll scream a little? Cry afterward? The potential for complete mental breakdown is really limitless.”
Wynnie smirked, pushing a lock of hair away from my forehead.
“I see. I like these plans. Perhaps I’ll join you? I’ve had a nice breakdown brewing for, oh, a few months now at least.”
I gave her a dip of my chin. “Absolutely. One never wants to spiral alone. It’s much better with company. And who knows, if we’re lucky, maybe a pack of Tharnoks will join us. I’ve heard they’ve been rather busy these days.”
“Yes, the exhaustion must really be killing them…” Wynnie added, pursing her lips. “Perhaps… a self care day is in order?”
“For us or for them?” I asked.
“Both, obviously. We want them at their people-eating best, after all. Where will we get our trauma if they all collapse from over… exertion…” she wheezed out the last part, trying and failing to suppress a giggle that was equal parts mirth and hysteria.
I nodded like that made sense. “Face masks and day drinking, it is.”
All at once I saw hideous scales covered in high end lotions and tiny braids in their sparse tufts of coarse fur. Maybe she did as well because we both lost it the moment our eyes met.
We devolved into a fit of manic laughter. The reality of our situation settled over us in layer after oppressive layer that resulted in choked wheezes and snorting giggles as our sanity cracked entirely.
Shards, it was ridiculous, borderline deranged, even… But somehow, in this moment, unraveling together was the only thing that kept me from completely breaking.
Chapter 14
Draven
Breakfast came and went in the most chaotic manner imaginable.
The maniacal laughter between my wife and her sister evaporated the moment we sat at the table Mirelda had prepared. Jagged ice surged from Everly’s clawed fingertips as she reached for her teacup, shattering the delicate porcelain and turning the scones into frozen blueberry bricks.
The violent bursts of mana didn’t deter Lumen and Astra, who crowded in around our chairs with their haunches raised, their eyes glowing with protective intent.
Noerwyn flinched whenever they so much as twitched an ear, dropping her fork or spoon onto her plate with an ear-splitting clatter. But that, of course, was only the crescendo to the symphony of obnoxious chewing coming from the Skathryn perched triumphantly in the chandelier, gorging herself on berries and dropping their thin skins directly into my tea.
Twice, I considered breaking my fast alone from the refuge of my own breakfast nook. And twice, the onslaught of my wife’s mana reminded me why that wasn’t an option.
On both occasions, my mana wrapped around hers, siphoning away the excess before it could overwhelm her… or destroy more of the palace’s finer tableware.
The process was becoming smoother each time, and I was beginning to recognize the subtle shift that preceded each breach. The pressure in the air that tightened like a bowstring just before the inevitable snap of ice and shadows.
Each episode ended the same way: with Everly bracing herself against the table and insisting she was fine, and with me fighting the impulse to bar every door and shutter every window until the world could no longer reach her.
But that was not an option.
I could not keep her sealed away in this tower and hope to keep my kingdom from crumbling, and I certainly could not present her to the court in this volatile state. Even if neither of those things were true, her mana was poised to destroy her from the inside out.
We needed a solution soon. A place less volatile, where she could learn to master her mana… or at the very least, expend enough of it to move through the palace safely.
Until then, I refused to be further than my own suites. Even then, the doors between us were open. I set up in my study, preparing to draft several letters.
First to Healer Amias, hoping he had more to offer on Nevara’s condition than Noerwyn had shared.
Next to the Lord General, for troop assessments and a final death count.
And finally, one to my castellan, to evaluate our supplies and determine the extent of repairs needed along the outer walls after the Korythid’s attack.
Thalos dipped his massive pale head as I secured the letters to the satchel strapped to his back. He gave a quick wag of histail, one that was far too energetic for the gravity of the day, and then bounded off to deliver them.
It wasn’t long before a messenger arrived at the door with a letter from Amias.
