“Every night. Sometimes twice.” Her mouth twists. “Drayke would hold me until the shaking stopped. Sometimes for hours. He never complained. Never made me feel weak for it.”
“You’re not weak.”
“Neither are you.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Trauma doesn’t make us weak. It just makes us human. Or Fire-Bringer. Same difference.”
A laugh escapes me—surprised, slightly wobbly, but genuine. “You’re good at this.”
“Practice.” She pulls her blanket tighter. “And research. Lots of research. The Brotherhood doesn’t have an actual therapist, but Auren has books on cognitive behavioral techniques. I made him explain them to me.”
“Auren? Explaining emotional processing?”
“It was exactly as awkward as you’re imagining.” Her grin flashes. “But helpful. And Drayke—“ Her face softens. “He never pushed. Never tried to fix it. Just stayed. Let me know I wasn’t alone.”
I think about Rurik. The way he checked on me fifteen times today. The way he held my face in his palms, steady despite the fear in his expression.
You won’t face it alone.
“Does it get easier?” I ask.
“Yes.” No hesitation. “Not gone—never gone—but easier. The nightmares come less often. The panic fades faster. You learn to live with it instead of drowning in it.”
“How long?”
“Different for everyone.” She turns to face me fully. “But you have something I didn’t have in the beginning.”
“What?”
“People who understand.” She gestures at the camp—at Drayke’s sleeping form, at the guards maintaining their silent watch, at the trees where Rurik vanished. “A Fire-Bringer who’sbeen through it. Dragons who would burn down the world to keep you safe.” Her mouth curves. “One dragon in particular who can barely let you out of his sight.”
My cheeks flush. “Rurik is?—“
“Completely gone for you.” Selene’s grin widens. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”
“We’re—it’s—“ I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “It’s complicated. We haven’t even kissed properly yet.”
“Yet.” She pounces on the word. “So there’s a plan.”
“There’s no plan. There’s just—“ I wave vaguely at the trees where he disappeared. “Him. Being himself. Making it very hard to think straight.”
“It’s always complicated.” She reaches over, squeezes my hand. “But complicated isn’t bad. Just means it matters.”
We sit in silence for a while, watching the last of the light fade from the coals. The shaking in my hands has stopped. My breathing has evened out. The nightmare is still there, lurking at the edges of my mind, but it feels smaller now. Manageable.
“Selene?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
She squeezes my hand again. “That’s what sisters are for.”
The second dayof travel is easier.
The nightmare has left me raw but lighter, as if lancing an infected wound. Selene and Drayke fly beside me and Rurik, and we continue our hand signal conversations—expanded now to includenightmare scale one to tenandoverprotective dragon alertandI think Drayke is trying to signal Rurik to back off.
Rurik, predictably, does not back off.
He flies slower than necessary, checking on me over his shoulder at every opportunity. At rest stops, he’s at my side before I’ve dismounted. During meals, he somehow ends up with the seat nearest mine, his knee pressed against my thigh.
