“It’s okay.” I squeezed him tighter. He cradled me against his chest, his spicy citrus scent enveloping me, my ear filled with his racing heart. “I’m here. It’s okay.”
We stayed like that, his arms banded around me, one of my hands wrapped around his neck, until his breathing returned to normal.
“What was that?” I whispered finally, pushing back to look up into his eyes. The brown hues were dull, no dancing amber flecks winking at me. “Nightmares?”
He swallowed, voice shaking. “Since the Undertaking.”
The shame coating his words made me sick, but I remembered his pain when receiving the Bond. How the needle was excruciating against his skin.
The truth clicked into place.
Where my Undertaking had been cleansing, his had challenged him in a different way entirely. Fear flashed behind his eyes—the painof whatever the ritual had put him through echoing in his mind and body as he relived it.
I haven’t slept well since we’ve been here, he’d said to me in the kitchens the morning after Renaiss. Because of the Undertaking and whatever trauma the damn Spirits put on his soul. I couldn’t understand it; how they found misguided tragedies to torture his innocent mind within a sacred test meant to prove your worth.
When he’d admitted his sleeping troubles to me, I hadn’t assumed he meantthis.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, prodding him to slice open that wound and pour out some of the toxins between us so I could help him siphon them off.
“My experience wasn’t as…positive as yours.” His voice faltered over the end of his sentence.
“I’m sorry it was like that for you.” I held my palm to his cheek, turning his gaze to me. Spirits, why would they beat him down like this? “It’s so much less than you deserve. But if there comes a time when you want to share it, I’m here.”
“I think that’s against the rules.” He attempted to joke, but it was dull.
“I don’t much like following the rules,” I whispered, dragging my thumb across his cheekbone.
A small smile quirked his lips. He scooted us back toward the wall, and—arms holding me firmly—we fell into a contemplative silence.
There was something I was more certain of now than ever—even if I didn’t have Damien’s warning in my head, I couldn’t tell Tolek about the Angelcurse. He was already fighting so many silent battles, I wouldn’t add mine to his conscience.
Once I knew what it meant, formulated a plan, and confirmed that Damien’s threat was nothing but overbearing privacy, I’d tell him everything. Pour every secret between us so we weren’t tainted by them.
But right now, sheltered in this cave in the safety of each other’s arms, I wouldn’t take away what little peace he was able to find.
He deserved all the happiness the Spirits could offer, and I promised myself I’d ensure it. I’d never again hear that jagged scream from his throat, as awful as the ones I’d heard?—
“Is that what the Mindshapers did to you?” I asked.
He stilled, then hummed. “Hm?”
I pushed up to look into his eyes, dissect that stare I knew better than most.
“That’s how I found you. I heard you scream, and it sounded like…” The terror echoed his nightmares. “When I found you, though, you weren’t being harmed.” Not recently, at least.
“I wasn’t being tortured physically.” His eyes closed, forehead dropped against mine. “They used their…tricks. Made me relive some of my most horrifying memories and things I fear might happen.”
The fucking Mindshapers.
My stomach churned with his confession. I’d forgotten how the minor clan’s power could manipulate magic within the mind. It was usually reserved for instilling peace, but they could drag up his terror, feed it to him. If one of those warriors was corrupt, their power became inhumane.
I was glad I’d killed them; if given the chance, I’d do it again.
Tol’s hand shook against mine, calling me down from my carnal revenge and back to who needed me.
“It’s all right.” I ran a hand down his arm. “You’re here. You survived.”
He nodded, the tremors slowly stopping. “Thanks for saving me.”
