Chapter 23 #2
“I think it’s your resiliency. Despite everything you’ve been through, you still laugh, love, hope, play, explore, fight, and remain curious.
I’ve lain in bed at night wondering why you were born human.
Why you’re being put through all of this.
But as I get to see you, get to know you, I think your compassion for others is what made you resilient.
Most importantly, you haven’t hardened, as evidenced by how hard you fought for Tarrin.
You are kind, loving, and fierce. You fight for what’s right, and you don’t step down or walk away—no matter how terrified you are or what it might cost you.
I don’t think it’s a matter of your nightmares coming to claim you.
I think in order to hold the weight of the burdens that have been laid at your feet, you allow yourself those pockets of wonderment because you know about the evils in this world—because you know how precious those moments are.
I think you being who you are is the only reason you see the beauty you do.
I’m not sure there is anyone else who could hold the burdens you do with as much grace as you have.
And if I’m being honest, I don’t question for a second why you were chosen to be the spark. Not for a second.”
Heart now fully lodged in my throat, I couldn’t find words to respond.
Stars, how did one even respond to that?
Maybe he was right and my compassion was proof of my resilience.
Then again, hadn’t that same compassion made me want to help Thaddeus at all costs?
I wondered then if all qualities that make us who we are have the ability to either fortify who we are or reduce us to rubble.
I chewed on the notion until my lids became so leaden that I finally slipped into the realm of dreams.
It took me a moment to orient myself as I blinked away the haze, trying to rouse myself. I was still on the sofa, though someone had draped a blanket over me. Slowly sitting upright, I yawned loudly as I stretched, realizing Fiora now sat where Caius had last night.
She offered me a kind smile. “Good morning, sweet girl. How are you feeling?”
I rolled my neck and wrists, then stretched my entire body once more. It was weird, I didn’t feel great, but I didn’t feel as bad as I knew I would have without my fae body.
Focusing on Fiora, I said, “I’m good enough, I suppose. Were you here all night?”
“No, I relieved Caius a few hours after you left.”
A smile played on my lips. “That’s pretty much all night.”
“I suppose you’re right,” her honeyed voice sweetened further with amusement. “We wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Her violet eyes—now light—roved over me with a warmth that reminded me so much of Mrs. E, soothing my aching my soul.
“Here,” she said, leaning forward in her chair, delicate hand out.
Not understanding, I followed her gaze down to my forearm, finding an angry scar. Stars, I’d completely forgotten I’d sliced myself open in desperation.
Sitting at the edge of my seat, I extended my injured arm toward her.
Gently, the spring fae gently placed one hand under my wrist, the back of my palm resting on hers.
Then she hovered her other hand over the long cut.
Instantly, a cooling sensation tickled my skin as the evidence of yesterday was slowly healed away—and how I wished her power could wipe it from my soul too.
Releasing my wrist, she offered me a smile as bright as the sun. “Good as new.” She winked, then sat back in the chair.
I traced where the scar should’ve been with an index finger, unable to see or feel it. “Thank you.”
She waved me off. “It was nothing.”
Compared to what Myron is doing implied in her words.
Suddenly the question that had been held on the tip of my tongue by fear couldn’t stay unspoken. Scrunching the blanket’s soft pink fabric between my fingers, I said, “How’s Tarrin?”
“He’s alive.”
I let out a long sigh, something heavy lifting from my chest, if only by a fraction.
“He’s a fighter,” she continued. “Myron stayed with him all night. I suspect he’ll have to stay with him for a while. A week. Perhaps more. It’s very delicate work, like only being able to embroider a stitch or two per hour.”
My eyes went wide. Stars, the tedium of it.
“Don’t worry”—she winked—"Myron is the most patient male you’ll ever meet."
Tossing the blanket aside, I said, “I need to see him.”
Her nose scrunched in the most adorable way. “Why don’t we take care of you first?”
My brows pulled together. “I’m fine. I can eat later.”
“Sweetheart,” she said, voice kind but in the way one is kind to soften what they are about to say. “You’re covered in blood still.” She pointed to her head, indicating the blood was in my hair.
I brought my fingers to my hairline, and sure enough, it was caked in it.
“Kai is running a bath as we speak. Why don’t you wash up. I’ll get some food and set it up outside for us to have breakfast together, okay?”
Knowing she was right and that I needed to wash yesterday off, I nodded in agreement and trailed the citrus scent through the archway.