Now, she stood at the balcony of her room, which she’d admired from the first moment she’d entered. The scenery was a good distraction from the pain of her engorged stomach, and there was a calming safety to the darkness. Between the soft, distant crash of the waves, the wind in her hair, and the nearest barrier island a small shadow on the starry horizon, Vi would dare say she felt peaceful if she weren’t waiting on pins for Jayme to return.
Erion hadn’t lied when he’d said he wanted to talk with Jayme following dinner. He was keeping her half the night.
Vi sank to her elbows on the railing, holding out her hand and murmuring. The glyph was small and tight, flawlessly crafted. She could feel Taavin at her side without even looking.
“Do you think it wise to summon me out in the open like this?” He mirrored her posture, forearms on the wide railing.
“It’s quiet and I haven’t seen another soul for hours.”
He didn’t argue or put up a fight. The man’s shoulder brushed against hers before settling flush against her. Even when he said nothing and did nothing, he still found a way to speak volumes to her rapidly fluttering heart.
“It’s peaceful,” he finally murmured. “You should enjoy it while it lasts.”
Vi gave a small nod in agreement. The statement seemed harmless enough, but as the silence stretched, it drew her attention to his face. Taavin’s eyes were narrowed slightly, looking out to sea with an intensity she wasn’t expecting.
“What is it? What have you seen?” Vi finally took her gaze from the sea, and it landed on him. She rested her hip against the railing.
“It’s hard to say.” Taavin sighed, straightening his spine. His eyes scanned her face, and hers did the same to his. “My dreams and visions, they’re increasing in frequency. The nurse says that my seizures and comatose states are lasting longer and—”
“Seizures? Comatose states?” Vi grabbed his hand as she grappled with the words. “What’s wrong?”
Taavin gave her a small, bitter smile. “I told you that I have always been afflicted with visions of you—torturous visions.” He rose a hand, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen from her braids behind her ear. The sea wind was eager to rip it from its spot once more.
“You said dreams,” she whispered, worry filling her.
“Yes, sometimes they come in sleep.” He paused, caressing her cheek. How could he hold so much longing, pain, adoration, and suffering in one expression? Why did she have to be the one to provoke such complexity? “Other times, they come as daydreams. My body seizes and shakes. I fall into a deep, involuntary sleep.”
“When I summon you…”
“Withnarro hath?” Taavin shook his head. “When I feel the magic, I lay down willingly and allow it to overtake me. I could break the communication spell withjuthif I so chose.”
Vi breathed a small sigh of relief. It didn’t make everything better—he was still suffering. But at least she wasn’t knowingly causing it.
“Taavin…” Vi took a step forward, resting her hands delicately on his hips. Suddenly, her magical friend, tutor—lover?—felt far more frail than he ever had before. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He leaned down, a small smile on his lips. Lightly, he kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Vi shifted her arms around his waist, and they held each other for several long breaths.
“At first, you were only pain… but now you have brought a light to my world that I will protect with as much ferocity as the Flame of Yargen itself.” Taavin shifted, looking out to sea once more. Vi felt more than saw it as he re-situated his cheek and chin on her head. “And I fear what lies ahead that I cannot protect you from.”
His grip tightened. Vi twisted, looking up at his shining emerald eyes. She could lose herself for hours in those stunning orbs.
“What have you seen?” Vi whispered.
“A storm, death in the water, frost, and you cast into dark waves.”
“But you’ve said your dreams are merely of the past.” Yet even as she spoke, Vi suppressed a shudder at those ominous words. “Could it be my grandmother instead?”
“I don’t know.” His fingers hooked under her chin. “What I do know is that I’ve had precious little to live for, Vi,” he whispered. “I’ve been struggling to survive for years without knowing why, other than a frustrating sense of self-preservation. I never knew why I didn’t just give in. But now, I think I do. I believe, somehow, I knew I would find you, and you would be the key to everything.”
“What are you saying?” Vi whispered. His words clung to familiar corners—his thoughts echoing ones she hadn’t dared linger on.
“You are not the only one who will be on a journey, Vi. I wish to see the world too. And I too will find a way out of my prison.”
“Taavin, if you run away, what—” Vi never got to finish her question.
She was cut off by the sound of the door to the main room opening. Vi’s head jerked in the direction of the noise to see Jayme step into the dark room. She looked back to where Taavin had just been standing, and found her hands clutching nothing but thin air.
Vi quickly dropped her arms hastily and turned to face Jayme. Moonlight streamed over her shoulders and through the propped-open double doors that led to the balcony. Yet she still had to squint to make out the woman hovering by the door in the darkness.
