Page 40 of Blood of the Fairest

She starts to sob quietly.

The sound fills me with a peculiar new feeling. I realize I hate hearing these sobs. They irk me so much that I tap hard on the glass.

"Verena," I call. "It's only a dream. Wake up."

"You're fucking…insane. No…l-let go, let me go, let me⁠—"

"Verena!"

She bolts upright, her breathing loud and tumultuous as she claws her way through the dark blue drapes hanging over the bed. She crosses the room to the double doors to check that they're locked. She pokes her head into the garderobe, hugging herself as if she's certain she'll find a monster in there.

Then Verena returns to the double doors, checking again that they're locked.

Her breathing remains irregular as she repeats it all over again before dragging her hands over her face.

Slowly, I understand. She is looking for a monster, but not one in this world. Something unseen is tormenting her from her past.

"You're safe," I murmur. "I'd warn you if someone tried to get to you in here."

Verena glances at me, sniffling. I don't like the way her voice breaks, or the vulnerability in it that she normally hides with humor.

"Would you actually?"

"Yes. I give you my word."

"Okay. Thanks." She exhales and wipes at her face with the sleeve of Reinhilde's nightgown. "What, no cryptic follow-up reminding me again that you have an ulterior motive I should ponder?"

I fight a smile, watching quietly as Verena pulls herself together.

She opens the window curtains just as the light of the sun breaks above the horizon to the northeast, spilling across her face. It ignites her dark red hair, illuminating her cheekbones, that delicate chin, that beauty spot above her upper lip…

When her dark blue gaze swings back to me, I realize at the exact same time she does that I've been caught staring quite hard at her.

"Your hair looks a mess," I say quickly.

"Uh-huh, I'm sure." Back to her usual playfulness, she steps closer to strike a pose. "Here, is this a better angle for you? Or should I get on the bed for you to paint me like one of your French girls?"

"You knew I would have no idea what that means, yet you said it anyway."

"Don't be shy, Eris. You can tell me if you have a thing for women who haven't bathed in days," she teases. "I would never kink shame."

All I can do is give her an unimpressed look that makes her bright laugh fill the air. She turns quickly away to move toward the wash basin—but a strange pang of irritation strikes me.

I wasn't done looking at that smile.

When I move from the mirror to catch a glimpse of her through the rippling water of the basin as she leans down, Verena shrieks and leaps back.

"God, you scared me. Warn a bitch next time."

"You're not a bitch," I reply idly.

Is that why I can't stop staring at her?

Perhaps that's it. Perhaps, because she looks just like the woman I loathed, I'm mesmerized because her mannerisms and everything else about her are so extremely different.

Every little movement draws me in, even the way she rolls her eyes at me before dipping her hands into the water to wash her face. It shatters the reflection on the basin's surface, so I'm forced to move back to my mirror.

Now that she's awake, I'm craving her quick wit. Though I don't understand everything she says, thanks to her penchant for quoting things or mentioning people from her world, something about her intellect is almost…irresistible.