Eira inhaled slowly and eased away from the table. The words sat with her. Uncomfortable as their stares. But just as true. As weighty.
He was right.
She knew he was because out of everyone, Cullen was the one who understood the power of a narrative and public perceptions. Cullen knew this game and he knew how to win at it.
“I can do it,” she said, finally.
“Can you?” It was Olivin who asked. He had yet to move and was as still as a statue. His steely eyes assessed her coolly. “Do you think you have what it takes to utterly destroy him? Because, when all is said and done, it won’t be just him. There will be other blood on your hands to make this happen.”
Eira stared at her hands, remembering the feeling of Ferro’s blood flowing through her fingers. Like son, like father. No one else could kill Ferro that night. No one else dirtied their hands.
“If not me, then who?” She whispered the words that had been kept as thought since the ball. “I’ll make that sacrifice, when the time comes. I’ll do what must be done so no one else has to.”
Olivin had a weary, but impressed stare. Ducot’s stance betrayed the same, Noelle with him. Alyss’s eyes shone. Cullen looked absolutely gutted.
“I’ll be fine, once it’s done,” she lied. She knew it was a lie but said it anyway, for their sakes. “So let’s remain focused…and do whatever it takes between now and then.”
28
The blade of the dagger Ulvarth had given her shone in the moonlight as Eira passed it from hand to hand. When they’d all separated, she’d promptly headed upstairs, claiming exhaustion from the day, but even though she lay in bed, sleep was nowhere near.
Giving up for now, Eira returned the dagger to her trunk. On her toes, she crept downstairs. Luckily, Alyss’s construction was solid. Not a single floorboard creaked as she made her way outside, inhaling the crisp night air and letting it out as a sigh that wished it could be a scream.
She’d been so certain that no one had woken that Eira jumped a step back when she saw the door behind her swing open from the corner of her eye.
“Oh, sorry.” Cullen looked as startled as she was. He hovered, halfway in the door. Halfway out. Not enough of one, or the other…just like them. He was in his sleeping clothes, loose-fitting. Shirt halfway open. “I didn’t think anyone would be out here.”
So he hadn’t heard her after all. “It’s fine. I couldn’t sleep, so I was just getting some fresh air.”
“Great minds.” He let out a soft, awkward laugh. Keeping the noise down so they didn’t wake anyone else. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
“If you wanted some fresh air, you can stay,” she said without looking at him. She was still fighting to ignore the way his clothes hung on his frame and left little to the imagination.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course. It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. We’ve been alone together multiple times to practice magic.” Yet somehow this moment felt different. Perhaps because they were alone in the middle of the night, as if this was some clandestine meeting. Or because they stood in the same spots as when she had told him she was trying to fall out of love with him. And even after all this time, she still hadn’t succeeded. She could still see the shade of him staring at the sky, silently crying, as the Cullen that existed in the present came to stand next to her. “You couldn’t sleep, either?”
He shook his head. “Nightmares.”
“Ah, our good childhood friends,” she said softly. They both had enough darkness and turmoil in their past to fuel a lifetime of bad dreams.
“They weren’t my normal nightmares.”
“No?”
He met her eyes with a haunted expression. “I kept seeing you, holding that dagger, killing Ferro, killing…him. But then, every time I blinked, the dagger was inyourgut. You were the one bleeding out.”
“Cullen…” She trailed off. What could she say to that? Saying nothing dug between her ribs as though there really was a dagger seeking out her heart. “I’ll be fine.”
“Will you?” He shifted to face her. Reaching down, Cullen took her hands in his, turning them over. As if he could still see Ferro’s blood on them. His thumbs smoothed over her palms,wiping away the invisible stains. She let him, wishing it were that simple. That he could ease away all the turmoil she felt. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t bear if anything were to happen to you.”
She needed to pull away. To scold him for the way he was talking and touching her. For the tender expression that melted her from the inside out. But it felt too good. Too welcome. To know that he was fighting as hard as she was to not love her with all the depths of his being.
Eira leaned forward, tilting her head to catch his downcast eyes. She squeezed his hands. “I’m here. I’m fine.”
“Tell that to my nightmares.” He tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t work. Their hands were still interlaced.
“I will.” She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Dear Cullen’s nightmares, I’m fine.” When she eased away, he wore a smile. Eira resisted asking him if he worried purely as a friend. She knew better…but if she didn’t ask, she could feign ignorance. For her sake and his.
