She hiccupped. “The ground.”
“Give me one more.”
“My dress. Linen.”
“Now what do you smell?”
“Leather.” Her shaking subsided. “Sandalwood? And… Pegasus shit.”
I chuckled, even though all I smelled was the warmth of her violating my senses yet again. It was a scent that was becoming permanently ingrained in me deeper than any other guardian’s scent repertoire should allow.
When her breathing finally calmed, I said, “If you ever find that’s not enough, continue identifying three of each sense. Eventually you will ground yourself back to the present again.”
“Have you ever needed to do that?”
Her soft voice was filled with such vulnerability that I couldn’t help but meet hers with a little of my own. “I once suffered from many attacks like yours.”
“You?” Rahzlyn sniffled. “The perfectly unaffected Raithe?”
“We were forced into dangerous situations on the Martial Isles. Fire was the most triggering,” I admitted, surprised by my own honesty. I refrained from mentioning that the attacks started sooner than the Isles.
Her fingers curled deeper into my arm. “I’ve always been this way. Sometimes it feels like the world is collapsing on me. Only Basil can—could help me through it.”
“You didn’t need Basil just now.”
Neither of us moved, the moment too fragile. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d held someone like this—or at all.
“That was you in the road that day in Dioscuri, wasn’t it?” Rahzlyn whispered. “The one who saved Novah and me.”
“Ironically, since I was looking for you. What made you remember?”
“You used that same tactic on her.” She snorted, the sound watery. “I should have figured it out sooner. You were such a prick.”
My mouth twitched. “Why did you choose her name?”
“Seeing her reunite with her mother… It’s something I’ve dreamt about since I was a child. And now I’ll never know who my parents were.” Her body tensed. “Did they suffer?”
“No. It was quick for both of them.” Now was not the appropriate time to share her grandmother’s parting words. Nor the person I found at the scene. For now, I would spare her from the devastation of such truths—as well as my corresponding actions.
Rahzlyn’s chest shook. Her quiet tears morphed into powerful waves. “They’re dead because of me. All three of them.”
“Do not relieve those apostate bastards of their rightful blame. You didn’t blow apart your home.”
“I’ve been trying to keep everything together since learning of Basil’s death.” She craned her neck and sobbed into my chest. “I don’t know how to do this without them.”
I froze.
Embracing was one thing. I didn’t know how to comfort or soothe. No one had taught me such tenderness. But I could be a wall, a fortress to shelter her as she weathered her storm. I shifted her weight to curl my arms under her. She clung to me, trembling as I carried her into the palace.
The lingering scent of smoke and charred paper hit my nostrils as we ascended the staircase. My hold on Rahzlyn tightened in response to the alarming smell. Flashes of green assailed my vision before I reminded myself we weren’t in Gemini. We weren’t even in Pipirima, and I wasn’t a helpless boy.
I neared the small antechamber before the door to the queen’s rooms.
Rahzlyn rubbed her eyes. Her head lifted to peer at our surroundings. Then her gaze caressed mine. “I tried to stop her,” she murmured. “Chessah.”
My pulse intensified. Those books—Hector’s books—were gone. The smell and lingering black char told me everything I needed to know. What remained of his existence in this palace had been burnt to a crisp.
I didn’t need my intuition to tell me who was responsible. Everything else of his had been destroyed upon his death, and some of the pages here had contained trace amounts of his scent. It was like a part of him had still lived on by keeping them in the antechamber.
