I blinked as if seeing him for the first time.
“There you are,” he said with tenderness as soft eyes met mine.
“You’re not part of the dream,” I said, stepping forward. Lifting a hand, my finger felt solid muscle as I poked him in the chest. “You’re actually here.”
“It appears so.”
“How?”
“I have no idea.”
“How do we leave?”
“I’ve been asking myself that for the past five hours.”
“We’ve been in this gods-forsaken dream for five hours?”
“No. We’ve been trapped in that horrid memory of yours for five hours.” Agony for me flickered in his eyes, but his words didn’t betray what his depthless eyes did. “Is that what Thaddeus did to you? Is that the cost of someone tethering to your power?” His voice was strained as if he wanted to rage but forced himself to contain the tempest that writhed within.
“That was only a fragment of what happened. But yes, that’s the cost, or part of it—I think it will take time to understand the full scope of its toll.”
His eyes darkened. “How did you live through it, Nyleeria? The pain, gods, it was excruciating.” He searched for my truth as if he could mine it out of me with his will alone.
“You could feel it?” I said, horrified.
He nodded solemnly.
“I’m sorry. No one should have to feel that much pain,” I said.
“No, they shouldn’t. I’m surprised your human body survived. Some fae would have died from what you endured.”
I nodded, somehow knowing he was right.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m still not sure all of me did. If it were up to me, I would have given into it, let it sweep me away. But it’s not up to me—little is these days.”
Devastation stared at me for a heartbeat before he gathered himself again.
“Why did it choose me?” I asked, feeling utterly spent.
“I don’t know.”
“Why does it have to hurt so much?”
“I don’t know, Nyleeria.”
“I try to be okay, but I’m not in control anymore. It’s like I’m a prisoner in my own body—in my own life.”
“I know. I could feel it today while you rode Luca. I can feel all of it.”
“I’m sorry for that.”
“Don’t be. None of it’s your fault, you didn’t ask for this.”
“What do you think would happen to the spark if I died?” I asked, giving oxygen to the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his words careful.
“Sometimes.”
