CHAPTER 61
The Ache
When I return the palace receives me as it always does, its corridors moving in the same quiet rhythm they held when I left. The boundary closes behind me and the sound of the outer world fades, leaving only the softened cadence of footsteps and distant voices. I move through it without slowing, my path already set before I reach the door.
It opens before I touch it. Saurin stands just inside, and the moment she sees me something in her expression loosens, enough that I understand she had been waiting. Cambra stands near the cradle, one hand resting lightly against its edge.
"They are well," Saurin says, calm and purposeful, offering the answer before I can form the question. "Fed. Rested. They have not wanted for anything."
Cambra inclines her head. "They have done very well today."
The words reach me in exactly the way they are meant to, easing something that had been held too tightly without my realizing it. I nod once and step further into the room.
Kiss stirs first, her body shifting against the blankets as though she has already sensed me. I cross the room without thinking and lift her into my arms, her weight coming against me with a familiarity that does not ask permission. Her hand curls at my skin and her face presses in as though she has been waiting without knowing she was waiting at all.
Ari follows more slowly, his breathing changing before his eyes open, and I reach for him as well, drawing them both close, one on either side, their warmth grounding in a way nothing else manages.
"She has taken well to the change," Cambra says softly.
I glance down at Kiss and feel the difference, the shift from what she had been to what she is learning to become. It is working. Not without adjustment, but enough.
I sink into the chair and hold them both, Kiss feeding with focus, Ari tucked close and content with the nearness alone, and the room holds nothing but that for a time. When Kiss begins to drift Saurin steps forward and takes her with practiced care. Cambra follows with Ari, and although something in me resists the separation briefly, I let them go.
"They will rest," Cambra says.
"And you should as well," Saurin adds, though something beneath it studies me more closely.
I rise and feel again the unfamiliar ease of moving without pain. "I will," I say. I pause near the door and look back at them. "Have an attendant see about a dress for tonight."
Saurin looks surprised. "You intend to attend the ball?”
"Yes."
She studies me a moment longer, then inclines her head. “I will have it arranged. And we will attend to the children tonight. You need not worry about them.”
She hesitates before speaking again. "He has been looking for you."
I nod once in acknowledgment and leave. The bath has already been drawn, steam lifting from the surface in slow curls, and I step into it without waiting, the heat closing around me and moving through my body in a way that reaches deeper than the surface of my skin.
Saurin's words stay with me.He has been looking for you.
I do not reach for the thought. I let it move through me without holding it in place. I do not know what it is he is trying to fix. The borders, the undead, the endless weight of a kingdom that seems to demand something of him at every hour. I have heard enough of it in fragments to understand that something always presses against him, something that does not release him long enough for anything else to take hold. I only know that whatever it is, it pulls him away from me.
I lean back, my head resting against the edge of the bath.
Someone would have noticed I was gone. Someone would have told him. He would have given instructions, set things in motion, made certain the situation was handled, and then returned to whatever had required him before I became something that needed to be accounted for.
A single tear slips free before I realize it has formed, warm against my skin as it traces its way down and disappears into the water. I do not move to stop it. I miss him. I miss him in a way that sits deeper than anger or disappointment. I draw in a slowbreath and let it out carefully, but the tightness remains, held somewhere beneath my ribs where I cannot loosen it.
I do not know how to make someone stay and love me in the ordinary ways. The thought comes plainly. I have never known how. No one ever showed me what that looks like, how it is held together in the small moments that end up mattering most. I know how to keep going. How to hold what is given and not let it fall.
But this is different. It feels like something I am meant to understand without ever being taught.
The water shifts as I move. I open my eyes and look at it without seeing. I remain there a while longer, letting the quiet take what it can, knowing that when I leave I will move forward as I always have, even with this still inside me.
The water cools gradually and I rise before the stillness can turn into something else. The air feels different against my skin as I step out, the warmth of the bath lingering while the room holds its quiet. I dry slowly, aware of my body in a way that had been distant for weeks, every movement unimpeded, every shift belonging to me again without resistance.
By the time I reach for a robe the door opens softly.
