As I stared at the ends of her hair swirling in the breeze, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, her jaw shifting and eyes burning…I realized I wanted to know this empress. ThetrueClarissa Aris. The way she was when she thought nobody was around.
Unfiltered. Raw. Honest.
I wanted to see her undone.
That fleeting thought scared me more than any curse or crown.
I stepped out of the shadows and onto the path leading to where she paced. As I approached, a twig snapped loudly under my foot, alerting her of my presence.
Her entire body reacted to the noise. Her shoulders sank, and her neck twisted to find the source as she staggered backward. A hand flew to her heart, and her chest rose and fell with deep, ragged breaths.
My brow furrowed. Was she that surprised by me?
She drew in another gasping breath and kept stumbling, her hand reaching to find purchase on something solid.
“Clarissa, what’s wrong?” I asked quickly once I got to her side. I grabbed her outstretched hand to steady her, but she yanked itback with a half-sob. Fear gripped me until I saw her eyes darting around, wide and scared, with the pupils blown out.
She was having some sort of panic attack.
“Breathe, Empress,” I said. “Here—come sit down.” She let me put a hand on her shoulder and guide her to a nearby bench, her body trembling the whole way. When she sat, I knelt at her feet. “Can you hear me?”
After a moment, she nodded. Her breaths were still uneven and shaky.
“Good. You’re safe, Clarissa. Nothing is going to hurt you.” I swallowed. “Can I touch you?”
For the first time, her eyes locked onto mine. They still looked distant, as if she was somewhere else and not truly focused on me, but again, she nodded. I leaned forward to put my hands on either side of her neck. Her pulse raced, erratic and strong.
“Just breathe. Listen to the sound of my voice. Do you feel the ground at your feet?” I waited, and she let out a breath before nodding. “Focus on that. It’s tethering you here, to me. Not wherever your mind took you. Are you in pain?” She closed her eyes and flinched, and I instinctively rubbed my thumb along the pulse point at her neck. Her warm skin was soft and smooth where the rough pad of my thumb grazed.
“Do you feel my fingers, Clarissa?” A nod. “Does it hurt?”
With another inhale, her pulse began to slowly even out, and her breaths along with it. She swallowed, her neck contracting beneath my touch, then she quietly replied, “No. That doesn’t hurt.”
“Then focus on that. The bench, the ground, my hands. Nothing else is touching you. Nothing else can hurt you. This is what’s real—what’s right in front of you.”
Her eyes opened. Dark jewels shone back at me, wary and hesitant but clear.
“Are you alright?” I began to move my hands away. She quickly raised her arms and grasped my wrists, keeping them in place for asplit second before lowering them and shifting farther onto the bench.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine. I—I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“How—how did you know what to do?” she asked, her voice still quiet.
“My daughter suffers from panic attacks as well,” I explained.
They had started after her mother died four years ago, and it didn’t take long for me to see what she was going through. It wasn’t until Marigold was old enough to put her feelings into words that I learned how to talk her down from these episodes. I wasn’t sure Marigold even knew what triggered them. She could barely remember Iris or how she died. But she seemed to have a subconscious fear around any of those she loved getting hurt or being taken from her, and I often had to reassure her that I was safe. It was another reason why I didn’t want to leave her to go on this tour. I didn’t know how she would handle the separation, with nothing to calm her anxiety about my absence.
Clarissa blinked at me. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
A smile formed on my lips. “Marigold. She’s seven years old. She’s here with us, actually. On the tour.”
“Oh,” Clarissa said softly. “I must not have met her yet. Or her mother.”
My eyes fell to the ground as I stood and dusted off my knees. “Her mother is no longer with us.”
There was a small intake of breath. “I’m so sorry.”
