“I banished it.” He motions to the spear, still with slow, purposeful movements. “I was fast enough to you that there shouldn’t be lasting damage on your mind, or the anointing. But not fast enough to spare you…” Ilryth balls his hand into a fist. It’s the only thing that betrays his anger. “It should never have been able to lay a hand on you. Forgive me.”
I dig my nails into the coral beneath me. The sensation of touch, the pressure of the water on me, grounds me in the here and now.
“Thank you for getting it when you could,” I murmur. “I suppose our lessons haven’t been enough. You were right…I’m not ready for the trench.”
A moment of heavy silence passes between us. His lack of denial cuts deeper than I expected. I’m right, we both know it. Even after two weeks of work I’m still weak in this world. Still struggling. I press my eyes closed as if I can physically hide from the shame.
“Victoria…” My name is a whisper. With it, he gently beckons my eyes to him, holding my gaze with an intense stare. “You remember the state I was in when I returned from the trench, don’t you? How hard it was to pull me back?” I nod. “This was blessedly easy. Resisting whatever torture it tried to inflict upon you is a sign of your strength. Even the wraith being drawn to you is good, in a way; it shows the magic of the gods is taking hold in you.”
Ilryth moves to rest a hand on my cheek. I flinch at the sight of a man’s hand reaching for my face, the memory of Charles as sharp as shattered glass. He pulls away instantly.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he says softly. “I know what it’s like. To have your deepest horrors, your most closely held regrets, be drawn out with the grace of a disemboweling.”
Gutted is a fitting metaphor for how I feel.
“Believe it or not, Victoria, you’re making progress,” he emphasizes.
“I don’t feel it.”
“I see it,” Ilryth says firmly, enough so that I glance over at him despite still being hunched. My hair slowly drifts around my face, obscuring him now and again. Pulling him in and out of focus. “If you can’t believe in yourself, believe in me.”
My lips part, an objection ready on my tongue.How dare you say I don’t believe in myself. But there’s a flicker of knowing in his eyes. He has felt just as exposed as I am now. I have seen him in that state.
Perhaps that’s why, when he says, “Now, I’ll leave you be,” my hand shoots out, grasping his before he can swim away.
“Wait!” I blurt out, desperately. “Wait,” I repeat, softer. “Please…I-I don’t want to be alone. Will you stay a while?” I hate feeling weak. Feeling needy. But there are a million more memories the wraith pulled to the surface that I now need to push back into obscurity, far from all conscious thought. If I’m left alone, my mind will wander to them, I know it.
Ilryth sinks back next to me, our sides flush, as if drawn together by an instinctive force. Slowly, he collects my hands in his. Our fingers intertwine and I’ve never been more fascinated by how my fingers move. It is surprisingly intimate.
“You’re all right,” he says softly. “I will not let any harm come to you.”
“Until I’m sacrificed,” I say with bitter laughter. Who would’ve thought sacrifice could be used to lighten the mood? I was expecting him to chuckle along with me. Not for his brow to furrow and his eyes to flood with conflict I’ve never seen from him.
“Your Holiness! Are you—” Lucia stops short, swimming up over the edge of the balcony. Her eyes fall to our locked hands. There’s confusion, concern, and accusation in her look. “Your Grace, I came to attend Her Holiness and make sure none of the markings were disrupted.”
“I was just finishing doing so,” Ilryth lies with ease. He releases me, swimming away a little faster than normal, as if he needs to get distance between us as quickly as possible.
But Lucia stops him by swimming in his path. “You should not touch her.” She could’ve said it only to him, but she clearly intends for me to hear. Does she thinkIwas the initiator? “She needs to sever her ties to this world, not deepen them.”
“She needs to keep a clear head about her,” Ilryth counters. “And the wraiths can distort one’s mind. I was ensuring she was all right.”
“She needs to loseallthoughts. Those of harmandcomfort.”
“What good to us is she if she loses all the latter and is nothing but the former? She’d be rendered a wraith the moment we send her to the Abyss.”
Ilryth is on my side, and that has me sitting a bit straighter. How is it that the man who intends to sacrifice me is also protecting me? And, more importantly, why does that fill me with such ease?
“She will be nothing more than an empty vessel when she is sent to the Abyss. So that she can stand before Lord Krokan as a fitting offering.” Lucia moves toward me. Her expression is that of cool indifference. But there’s also a touch of sorrow to her eyes. She’s better at fighting the guilt than Ilryth, however. “Now, Your Holiness, if I may check your anointments?”
I push myself off the balcony, drifting up.
Ilryth leaves without another word. Without so much as glancing back at me. I stay still as Lucia moves around me. She motions for me to lift my hands, looking on both sides of my arms. Swims behind me. Prompts me to stand.
“Lucia,” I say softly, when I can no longer bear the silence. At least I’ve enough distractions to keep my mind focused.
“Yes?”
