In that moment of stirring, with the memory of baleful eyes and choking smoke still crushing my chest, I reach for him. Slipping my arms around his neck, I cling to Blayze with a strength I didn’t know I possessed.
‘Hold me,’ I whisper. My plea comes breathless, feeble as a ragged moon-moth wing.
He stiffens, but only for a heartbeat. Setting the lantern on the floor, strong arms cinch me to his chest. He strokes my hair, murmurs guttural sounds I can’t parse, soothing me as I’ve watched him soothe Serafine. This time, I don’t pull back. I sink into his embrace, allowing all my fears, all my worries, to ebb as I breathe in his warm scent and let the steady thump of his heart settle my own. And for a moment it feels good. It feels right.
But then something shifts.
As the terror abates, a writhing awkwardness takes its place. I’m aware of each muscled ridge pressed tight against me through his nightshirt. Of how this might look if anyone walked in. I pull back.
‘Sorry,’ I pant. ‘Just a nightmare.’
‘A nasty one by the sounds of it.’ His lips quirk, but his eyes aren’t laughing. They’re wide with fear. Blayze, who is never afraid, who faced the might of an avalanche with scarcely a flicker of emotion. He’s still holding my shoulders, thick fingers searing through my woollen shift. ‘Why did you speak her name?’
Words beg to spill out. It would be a relief to share the burden of my vision with him – with anyone. But the fear in his eyes stills my tongue.
What good will come of telling him – of telling any of them? It would only strike terror into their hearts and dampen their spirits, right when we need all the confidence we can muster – now we’re so close to our goal, now I finally know where the sceptre is hidden, and how to retrieve it.
I can’t risk them refusing to go on, or wanting to investigate, forcing a delay. We can’t fall at this final hurdle.
I reach for the silk at the end of my braid to steady myself, remembering the vows I’ve sworn upon it.
This can’t wait. My mother can’t wait.
I’m already keeping so many secrets, what’s one more?
I’ll tell them the truth at some point. Once it’s too late to turn back.
‘A name?’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
The lie slips from my lips easily. Too easily.
His eyes narrow. ‘But you said…’ Blayze pauses, releases my shoulders, and scrapes a hand through sleep-tousled hair. ‘Never mind.’
I mirror his actions, smoothing my own hair. It’s damp with sweat – all of me is. I drape my arms across my chest. I must look repulsive. Smell repulsive.
But Blayze doesn’t flinch, doesn’t recoil. Just watches me with a strange, hesitant expression on his face, as if he wants to tell me something, or ask another question. I wait, my breaths jagged and shallow, all too aware of his nearness, his warmth, his musk.
‘You’re sure you’re all right?’ he says at last. ‘I could sleep here if—’
My mouth drops open.
‘On the floor,’ he adds quickly.
‘That won’t be necessary.’
His lips tighten. ‘They’re getting more frequent. These dreams…’
Oh Stars, he’s keeping track.
His eyes linger on my hair, on the dark ribbon of the Shadow Mark. His hand drifts towards my face, as if to trace my jaw. My breath hitches low in my throat. He flexes his fingers, jerks his hand back.
I will my treacherous heart quiet. I’m a fool. He thinks I’m dangerous, is probably worried I’m summoning evil spirits in my sleep.
And he wouldn’t be entirely wrong.
And yet his scorn doesn’t wound like it once did. I’m still clinging to the fragile hope my magic can be a force for good. That I can prove Blayze wrong about me.
‘Perhaps Maris needs you to warm her bed.’ I lift my chin, allow a hint of tartness to enter my voice.
