Page 38 of The Tyranny of our Longing

Phaedra looked at him, at the obliviousness of his expression, and she swallowed, her throat aching from the movement. She knew she could not say no, however she yearned to do so. That this was not nearly enough for her to go on. She needed more. She needed…

With withering dread, she nodded her consent.

Saturday, the 8th of Novemb⁠— ——-

Today he offered to play with me —- — — ——- - ——- —— — ——- ——- — —— — - the room unused for so long — —— — - - ———- —- —- —- —- — ——— ——— —— —

But when we turned the corridor and I beheld the wonder before me, I felt as if all my adoring words would fall like so much dust in contrast to the sheer beauty that stood there.

— —— - —- — ——- —— — —— carved into delicate patterns, vines winding their way into blooms, life sprouting from every inch of —- ——— —- all I could do was stare, mesmerized, my fingers searching out each crevice, each undulation of this perfect ———— — ———- —-

—— ———- - —- I could never have my fill, yet I followed him through, the door closing behind us, shutting out the world until it was only us, safeguarded by such unearthly beauty.

But as we finally sat down to play, the music came slow, and I was afraid of the rust in my fingers, that they would ruin what was until now the most marvelous — ——- —- — comforted my doubts, his hands leading mine into the melody - —- - ——- —- — — for a moment reminded me of dear Brother, —- - —- ——- ——- - ——- ——- —— —— —— —— — —— —- ——- —- more kind, while Father’s can churn like a storm, dark and wild, and you know you cannot look away. Yet he can be gentle, his hands caressing, guiding - —- —- —- — ——— - ——— ———- — ———- — — ——-

—- ——- —— - ——- ——— ————

- —— he means it as a kindness, when he says I look so much like her.

—- - beautiful, — ——- —- before this vile illness befell her, and I know I should feel remorse for the closeness I took away, for the smiles and glances that —- —- ——- for me instead of her - ——- — —— ——— ——- — ———

Yet every pang —— ——- ——— — —— feels softened by his touch - ——- —— — —- —— ——— ———— — —— ——- and I feel it in my being that I have found what I have always longed for. I am finally seen. Cherished. Finally his to⁠—

“Stop!” Phaedra called, just as Nathaniel would turn the page. The quiver in her voice echoed in the trembling of her body as she shot up from her seat, the pad tumbling to the floor.

“Miss Mercer, what is it? What happened?” Nathaniel stood, eyes wide.

“I think,” she panted, backing towards the door, straining to push the words through her rapidly closing throat, “that will do. I— Please, excuse me.”

She jerked the door open, staggering into the dusk beyond.

CHAPTER 30

Phaedra rushed through the hallway, her stomach churning in a way that seemed to want to fling her off the face of the earth. The swell of bile rose in her throat, and she knew she would not make it to her room. Frantic, she pushed open the first door she encountered, and quickly scanned its interior. A bedroom, with a washstand in one corner.

There was no time, not even for tattered relief, as she dashed for the basin, barely making it before the fog rolling through her head turned into a storm, bending her heaving body over.

She gripped the stand with numbing fingers, the acrid smell invading her nostrils, her body contracting under the heavy onslaught. There was not much to give, no food in her stomach, and yet she felt the convulsions would never end. Burning rivulets of tears spilled down her cheeks, and through the choking sobs bursting forth at irregular intervals she could not hear the voice calling her name, nor the steps rushing into the room behind her. And even as gentle fingers pulled her dampening hair away from her face, then stroked warm circles into the strained muscles of her back, still it did not stop.

She gripped the stand harder, her arms shaking from the effort, her thoughts barely able to string together the words of a prayer for it to finally be over. And then it was and her legs gave way beneath her, and she slipped to the floor, guided by steady hands.

She did not need to look to know it was him. And she couldn’t, even if she wanted to, as searing shame overpowered even her disgust, the burning in her face rivaling the one in her throat.

She felt him step away, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her hands balling into her dress that was suddenly suffocating, the air murky where it met her skin. Then he returned, and she could feel his eyes on her like a brand, and still she could not look at him.

He knelt before her, and she jerked at the tender touch lifting her chin. A cold, damp cloth was gently moved across her face, and then her body was shivering.

It moved through her limbs, through her very bones, not wanting to stop, not even as Nathaniel gathered her against his body, and lifted her into his arms. And as her eyes grew unfocused, the world blurring at the edges of her vision, there was only the firmness of his arms around her, and the wild hammering in his chest.

The last thing she knew before darkness took her was being placed onto a soft surface, her body draped over with something heavy and warm. And it could have been but the beginning of her feverish dreams, but she could have sworn that she felt soft lips place a lingering kiss on her burning forehead.

CHAPTER 31

Phaedra woke in a room that was not hers. The canopy hung above her in a shade of dark navy trimmed in gold, feeble light filtering in from the wrong direction. She turned her head, and the slam of a splitting headache crashed into her. She groaned, her hand heavy as it met her forehead.

What had happened to her?

She waited for the pain to subside, then squinted into the semi-darkness. There was a thin shaft of morning light breaking through a split in the navy curtains, the pale color of the walls muted to a dull gray. This was most certainly not her room. But then where was she?