“I just switched off with Brielle,” he answered.
She raised the root back to her mouth, inhaling deeply and watching the smoke billow out of her mouth.
“I can smell the valeriana from here,” he teased, his voice slightly muffled by the door separating them.
Her brows drew together at the lightness and familiarity in his tone, as if they hadn’t missed a beat. The handle of the doorshook and turned. He pushed it open, peeking his head into the room. “Gloriana asked me to bring your dinner up.”
Evelina bit her lip, her heart skipping at the way his voice dipped to a deep and raspy tone while he whispered. She shrugged and dropped her head back, returning her gaze to the small crack she had been staring at above her, her body floating.
“Zephyr has been driving me insane to let her come see you,” he said, his voice gentle.
Her chest warmed and buzzed with a flurry of emotions.
“Are you burning a wholefieldof lavender too?” He coughed, waving his hand to clear some of the smoke. He pulled the door open as far as it would go, the haze dissipating as it rushed into the hallway. As the smoke cleared, she could make out a bowl of steaming soup in his hand.
“You’re letting all of my hard work out the door,” she mumbled.
“Gloriana said you’ve been burning it all evening.” He sighed, his eyes softening as he looked down at the soup in his hands. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
She chewed on her lip a moment, trying to sort through her mind and how to answer him. She wasn’t okay—but she wasn’t ready to admit it out loud. She was drained, exhausted, and couldn’t shake the weight of feeling that she hadn’t done enough. If her light affinity took so much from her, it left her useless to help others. She felt frustrated and weak, self-doubt eating away at her spirit.
“You may as well come sit,” Evelina muttered to Daimon. She sat up, propping her back against the bedframe and bringing her knees to her chest.
Daimon hesitated, his eyes bouncing between Evelina and the small, empty space beside her. He held the bowl and a spoon out until she took them and then slowly lowered himself to the ground beside her instead, resting his elbows on his knees.
She quietly brought the bowl to her mouth and took a sip, the warmth filling her instantly. The broth tasted of fish, mademore palatable by warming spices. Bugs hummed in the forest outside, filling the quiet cabin with noise, yet somehow, the silence between them was far louder than the creatures singing in the night.
The silence was the hardest part. It let her mind wander into the horrors of the battle. There wasn’t even time for her to heal anyone; they were all dead by the time they hit the ground.
She dropped her eyes to the soup, fighting back tears.
“Evelina?” Daimon asked gently, his voice bringing her thoughts back to the room.
“Yeah?” she mumbled around a spoonful of broth, her taste buds dancing with the lemony, tangy aftertaste.
“It’s okay to not be okay,” Daimon said softly. “Do you need a dream?”
She let out a half-hearted laugh. It was something they did when they were children. Every time she was having a bad day, he would give her a good dream. Nocturna fae were the keepers of the dream realm, the protectors of the mind in its unconscious state. Daimon had shown a particular affinity for it at a young age, able to offer dreams for her to calm her mind or for them to share together.
“I can’t remember the last time you asked that.” Her voice was somber and soft.
He nodded his head slowly. “Dream with me,” he whispered.
Evelina froze—it had been so long since he had said those words. She cleared her throat, pushing past the overwhelming rush of emotions and memories.
“What dream will you give me?” Saying the words felt odd, like singing a foreign melody she hadn’t heard in years but to which she could still remember all the lines.
He smiled, his midnight eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and warmth. The dreams he used to give her varied from her growing wings and flying in a field of lilies to swimming with glowing creatures of the sea. But as much as she adored those dreams, she missed the company just as much.
“You’ll find out,” he said with a soft smile.
Without another thought, she leaned back onto the bedroll, closing her eyes.
“There once was a girl who spent more time awake in her dreams than she did in reality…” His words were laced with something so soothing that they would send her into a heavy sleep within seconds. He always started the story the same way, and she never heard what came next—his Essence always took her into her dream realm after a single sentence.
Evelina felt the world melt away, her mind easing into a familiar weightlessness. The last thing she used to think of before the blissful sleep was how thankful she was to have him. For the first time in a long time, she drifted off with the same thoughts swirling inside of her.
Twenty-Nine
