Heavenly Bodies

Chapter Forty-Two

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Days passed, and Elara floated in and out of consciousness. Mostly her mind was devoid of anything, but just before waking, a memory would resurface and slice her mental wounds open again, leaving her screaming. Each time she would feel warm hands encompass her, along with the sound of soft murmurs, a healer’s sweet voice, then more treacly elixir.

The days became weeks—how many, she could not tell—and when she was lucid, she barely felt anything. Instead, shadows embraced her as she was fed soup and had water brought to her parched lips. There was a gentle caress, then darkness again.

One night, she woke as always in distress, drenched in sweat, eyes darting wildly around the room. Her gaze flew to Enzo who had awoken, his white shirt loose, his hair mussed from leaning on his hand in the chair next to her bed. As the healer entered the room, Enzo reached for Elara the way he had every night prior on the healer’s arrival. But there was something different in his eyes, she noticed. After a moment, he left Elara and stalked towards the healer, a hushed but heated conversation ensuing. She heard the urgent words of the healer, drifting to her through the web of fear and nightmares.

‘Has to…keep her subdued.’

Enzo’s voice was a snarl. ‘Enough…drugging her…’

‘I serve the king.’

A tense silence.

‘Then at least give it to me.’

Elara felt gentle hands take her mouth, stroking her lip.

‘Open, Elara.’

She did, feeling only one drop on her tongue, rather than two, as the door clicked shut.

Enzo then eased her out of bed and led her up and across the room as he opened the large doors to the balcony. Out in the cool night air, he settled on the divan with her, wrapping them both in a blanket as he sat, Elara curled on his lap.

‘You need fresh air,’ he said tightly.

The rest of his words drifted away from her and she looked at him silently, the fog still over her. Everything sounded and felt so far, so distant. The medicine was swimming through her system, pleasant and warm as she tried to focus on what he was saying. Giving up, she rested against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. She heard a knock at the balcony door and jumped. A head peeked around the door, sleepy-eyed and worried.

‘Is she okay?’ Merissa whispered, stepping out on to the balcony. If she noticed the intimacy she had walked in on, she didn’t comment.

‘Just a nightmare,’ Enzo mumbled to her. ‘Could you fix us some chamomile tea, Merissa?’

She nodded. ‘Of course.’

Elara ignored her, her mind desperately trying to push the box shut on the horrors that wanted to claw and shriek their way out. Some nights she swore she heard it rattling, but there was always enough potion to silence it.

She blinked, shifting so that she was looking up at Enzo. He stroked her hair, lulling her. ‘You need to wake,’ he said. ‘To feel. Not be trapped in this,’ he gestured around her, ‘fog.’

‘Nightmares,’ she said quietly, the first words she’d spoken properly in skies knew how long. ‘There’s just darkness, and then I always wake to the nightmares.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

She shook her head, frowning, the thoughts soon dissipating, like storm clouds on a breeze. She couldn’t quite hold on to the memories.

‘Naming them helps,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘When I have nightmares, I go outside and speak them aloud.’ He laughed quietly. ‘I sound like a madman, I know. But I always feel as though there is someone out there listening to me. It’s like praying, but to something other than the Stars. The first time I did it, I dreamed that an angel had visited me. Though different to how The Mythas of Celestia depicts them. I don’t remember what it said, but when I awoke, for the first time in my life, I felt safe. Strong.’

‘I forgot you had nightmares too,’ she said quietly.

He gave her a wry smile. ‘Yes, you witnessed one of the less pleasant ones.’ He paused. ‘You know, my father wasn’t so cruel until my mother died. Or perhaps she was just such a powerful light that it obscured his darkness.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘That my parents—’ She gulped. ‘I’m so sorry, Enzo.’

He squeezed her. ‘It is not your apology to make.’

There was a long comfortable silence as Enzo stroked her hair. She ran her hand up and down his back as he held her, feeling the smoothness of it. Something dawned upon her, and she stilled. ‘Why don’t you have any scars?’ she whispered.

Enzo was quiet for a long time before he spoke.

‘My father had a Verdan on hand, a healer. When my back was split so badly by his light that it was just a mess of blood and flesh, the healer would patch and smooth over every part of my skin, just so Idris could inflict the same pain again. So that no one would know. The moment I became strong enough, I sought the healer out.’

He took a controlled breath, and she noticed that he was shaking.

‘There was nothing left of the healer once I’d finished with him.’ He let out his breath in a long stream. ‘Since the moment I was able to fight back, my father hasn’t dared to try and strike me with his light. But it still haunts me. I still dream about it.’

She squeezed his hand. As she looked at him, she understood. He did not want her pity. He simply wanted someone to listen.

She brushed a thumb over his hand. ‘One day, he will feel every inch of pain he inflicted on you.’

‘I know. I’ll be the one to do it.’

If Elara was her usual self, she might have raised an eyebrow at the open treason. Instead, she settled back down against Enzo, his shoulders untensing as his body moulded to hers.

‘So now you know what calms me after the nightmares. What calms you?’

Elara ran her hair through her fingers, chewing her cheek. ‘Fresh air.’ She gave a small smile, and gestured to the pile of books on the low table. ‘Reading.’ You , she wanted to say, the word on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed it whole.

‘Reading,’ he said, picking up The Mythas of Celestia.

‘That’s my favourite book.’

He raised a brow. ‘Mine too.’

Her lips twitched. ‘We’re more alike than you think.’

With a sigh she nuzzled into his neck. It smelled so comforting, bergamot soap cut with his heady amber scent. He stilled. Finally, his arm resumed stroking circles across her back carefully, as though scared that if he moved, he would break the spell. Merissa came back in quietly, placing a pot of tea on the small table. With another wavering look between them, she gave a small smile and left again.

After a while, Elara voiced the question that had plagued her. ‘That night I was taken…how did you escape?’

Enzo squeezed his arms tighter around her. ‘I have fate to thank for that. The room was empty when I awoke, the doors locked, but I burned through the boards of the sealed windows and jumped into the moat. I wasn’t running away, El,’ he said quietly. ‘I knew I’d have been no use to you dead or captured. I just…I need you to know that I didn’t stop trying to get you back, not for one waking moment.’

‘I know,’ she murmured.

Elara’s eyes closed as Enzo cleared his throat.

‘Now, how about this story? “The Night Wraiths of Asteria”,’ he read. ‘?“Once, long ago, in the lands now known as Asteria, the Dark was born. It was that from which everything came, and everything returned to. One such creature born of it was the Night Wraith. Merely a wisp of shadow darkening your own, or the pattern on a child’s bedroom wall…”?’ He trailed off as he looked at Elara smiling against his chest. ‘You like wraiths?’

‘Wraiths are friendly,’ she said quietly. ‘We would leave food and treats out for them every Hallow’s Eve. My favourite time of year. They protect the home.’

‘Hmm.’ He nodded. ‘Tell me more.’

She chewed her cheek. ‘?“The Nevercrow of Castor” was another favourite of mine. I loved his riddles.’

Enzo made an amused sound. ‘Me too.’

‘And “The Nightwolf and the Silver”. That tale always made me cry.’

‘When I was little, I’d always cry at “The Winged Lion’s Heart”.’

‘But the lion fell in love at the end,’ Elara said.

‘He did. But it was with the Light, which he could never reach.’

Elara nodded. ‘?“The Serpents of the Still Sea”—I always wanted to ride them. That bit in the story where they took the little girl underwater to the mermaid kingdom…’ She trailed off.

‘Have you ever swum in the Still Sea?’

‘Once.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘With…’ Her vision began to swim. ‘With my best friend.’ She frowned in confusion. She couldn’t place the name; it was at the edge of her grasp.

‘Sofia?’ Enzo asked, gently.

Red flashed across her vision; a blade, a throat being cut, a gaping wound, a velvet-clad stage. She winced as though she had been struck.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry…’ The whisper of his voice was distant, but she grabbed hold of it, taking in deep lungfuls of air. When she came back to herself, Enzo was gripping her tightly, worry in his eyes.

‘No, I need to.’ She gritted her teeth against the pain in her mind. ‘I need to feel. Need to remember. You’re right. I can’t keep swimming in this.’

He held her tightly as he opened the book. ‘Then let’s read. And tomorrow I promise to help you out of it.’

She nodded once, and Enzo pulled her back against him.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured to him, the medicine lulling her under.

‘For what?’ he asked quietly.

‘For giving me a piece of you.’

She was already between worlds and fading back into darkness when he replied softly, ‘You have more of me than I care to admit.’