Chapter 47 #2
The relief was overwhelming. “Thank you. Thank you,” she repeated, slumping with a sigh.
“Don’t thank me yet.” His grip tightened around her wrist, digging in to the tendons and bones, even as the rest of him completely relaxed. “Remove my hand, however you need to. I won’t let go, so you’ll have to do it yourself.”
Brow furrowed, she tried to pull away, but his hold was an iron manacle. Reaching over, she tried to wedge her fingers beneath his—
Weakness suffused her until she let go. The same again when she tried to use her nails to claw at him. Every attempt, she went limp as a babe. She didn’t bother trying her magic because she knew what would happen.
She was helpless.
“Do you see now? I mean you absolutely no harm. I’m barely using a fraction of my true strength. And yet…”
“I can do nothing about it.”
He nodded. “What if you needed to fight, for good reason? I would never leave you in such a state.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. “I release you of your oath.”
Instantly, a weight she hadn’t perceived was lifted.
“Go ahead.”
This time—though still ineffectual because he was a bleeding strong brute—she at least had the illusion of a chance when she was able to scratch the top of his hand, punch his knuckles.
Magnus let go as he laughed and held her hand, patting the back of it.
“I swear to never do that again. It’s more of a ceremonial thing in the Westrealm, anyway.
We say the words to mark our commitment or the gravity of a situation, but we don’t actually do it.
I’ve literally never held anyone to a legitimately binding oath, and I can count on one hand the times I know it’s been done by all the others capable of it, combined.
The language has to be so precise, so tailored to the individual.
Knowing me, I’d probably still fuck it up somehow.
Only under the direst circumstances would I ever even consider it. ”
“This feels like the direst circumstances to me.”
“I know, Lunara, but it isn’t. You can’t see the forest for the trees right now, and that’s alright. That’s what friends and good family are for. They can be your eyes when you’re rendered blind.”
“Am I, though? The things I’ve seen. The things I know.”
“Are devastating, aye.” He tilted his head, looking her in the eye. “But you are your own person. You get to decide who you are and who you want to be.”
“The Elder Council will make me accept Illamiata. They won’t let me have a choice.”
“You’re ours now.” Magnus lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, squeezing.
“As Imperial as the rest of us. It comes with quite a few advantages, aye? Not the least of them being that we look out for our own. We’ll not be letting anything happen to you that you don’t want for yourself, I can promise you that. ”
Hope was so, so dangerous. “Can you?”
“Ach, aye. I really can. I may be little more than a bloated figurehead at the moment, but I know what I stand for. Force, of any kind, isn’t it.
I know my parents will agree, and Brand would probably bring Starkeep to the ground by himself if you asked it of him.
Have a wee bit of faith, witchling. You’re not alone anymore, so stop acting like it. ”
His gentle admonishment hit Lunara right in the heart.
“Put on the dress tomorrow morning. Come down to the city and be with us. With Brand. Eat and laugh and dance under the night sky. Live.”
“He’s right.” Hedda padded silently across the rest of the distance, settling in on Lunara’s other side and raising a sardonic brow. “And trust me, I don’t say that lightly.”
Magnus grinned. “She really means that. Might be the first time it’s ever happened.”
“Probably. It was horrible.” Hedda smacked her hands down on her knees with a forceful breath. “Which brings me to the next thing. We can’t do any healing today. I have duties to see to for the Occurrence.”
Some of Lunara’s earlier excitement returned, a little spark of optimism she hadn’t felt flaring in a long while. “Not to worry. I wasn’t going to be healing her today anyway.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we need to let her meet us halfway.”
“What are you getting at, witchling?”
They deserved to know. To share in the thrill of success.
“I didn’t mention it last night, for obvious reasons. And it isn’t done, not fully, but…” She chewed the inside of her cheek, heart pounding. “I did it.”
Just a little. Just enough to see a pinprick of light in Fern’s mind. To feel the absolute force of her on the other side, chomping to be freed.
“I broke through.”
“I can’t. What if this is a mistake? What… what if…”
Lunara backed away from the gown being presented to her, wrapped in nothing but a blanket.
Nyri groaned to the rafters for the tenth time.
“You can, and you will.” Her face twisted, a mix of boredom and annoyance.
“You’re going. It’s what you really want.
You love him. He loves you. Everything else is details.
You’re not a monster. You’re not a chaotic evil.
You wouldn’t even kill that weird bug in the window earlier! ”
“It was a moth, and it was beautiful. Why would I kill it?”
“Do you even hear yourself? Burning Solyrian, when did you get so dense!” Nyri’s mouth turned down, voice going lower as she tried—and failed—to mimic Lunara’s lilting accent.
“Meh, look at me, I’m Lunara the Terrible—the foulest beast who ever lived.
No! Don’t touch me, I’ll probably murder you!
Oh, look! An ugly butterfly! I think I’ll name it and feed it and keep it forever as my precious little pet.
Is Twila not the most stunning thing you’ve ever seen? !”
“I thought Twila was a good name for a moth.” Lunara crossed her arms, glancing away. “And I opened the window to set her free.”
It wasn’t at all symbolic.
She could practically feel her inner self rolling her eyes.
Nyri gaped, a disbelieving smile quirking at her lips. “Are you serious? Sisters save me. You’ve completely missed the point.”
She really hadn’t.
“This is the most ridiculous day of my entire life!” Nyri threw one hand up, the gown drooping in her other.
“I’m going to say this nice and slow. Creatures…
who name moths… and set them free… are not bloody dangerous!
Put on the damned dress, Lunara! Put Brand out of his misery!
Put your own ruddy self out of your misery!
All of us. Put all of us out of this misery! ”
Ironically, Nyri was missing the point. “Are you done?”
“Not by a mile!” She began pacing, gesticulating wildly, and Lunara had to stifle a wince as the gown dragged along the floor. “I’ve dreamt every day about my mate…”
Sisters help her, but Lunara wasn’t listening anymore. She’d spent the day before and most of the night rolling it over and over in her mind. And when Nyri had bounded out of the bed in the wee hours, excited as anything, Lunara had been confident in her decision.
Refuse Illamiata. Go back to limiting her blood gifts and not filling the well. Run as fast as she could—towards her mate.
For some stars-damned reason, seeing the dress was making her panic over an entirely new set of fears.
What if Brand resents you? What if this is too little, too late? What if—
A knock sounded, and Nyri huffed her way over to the door, throwing it open. Lunara loosed a squeak when Magnus strolled in like he owned the place, wearing the most ostentatious robe she’d seen on him to date.
“Weeping arseholes, witchling. You’re meant to be ready!”
She ducked behind the wall dividing her and Fern’s rooms, peeking her head around the jamb. “I still need to get dressed.”
And do her hair. And dig around her things to find a cream or a pot of something that might make her look less like she hadn’t slept in a week.
And maybe puke.
Magnus plucked the gown from Nyri’s hold. “I know you want to go because you told me when I brought your supper last night. So, when I say you have to the count of three before I come over there and wrestle you into this confounded thing, consider yourself warned. One…”
“This is completely unnecessary.”
“Two…”
Lunara was leaning forward, her body trying to pull itself towards the gown and all it represented.
But what if he changed his mind? What if he never sees you quite the same way?
What if, what if, what if.
“Two and a bleeding half…” Magnus loosed a long-suffering sigh and started forward. “You asked for it.”
“Wait.” Without giving it another thought, Lunara called the particles of the dress to herself, wrapping them around her body in less time than it took to blink.
“Thank fuck for that. Let’s go.”
“Please, a few more minutes.”
Lunara scurried over to the crates, digging around. It was unlikely she had anything, but it was worth—
Nyri grabbed her shoulder. “Deep breaths.” She pulled Lunara to a chair, a vase of trilliatum on the table beside it. “Sit.” One by one, the blooms in the vase disappeared as Nyri ran deft fingers through Lunara’s curls, working her own sort of magic before presenting a small vial. “Drink this.”
Lunara didn’t question the pink, swirling liquid as she tipped it back. The rosy tonic fizzed its way down, burrowing in and suffusing her cheeks with warm tingles.
“Much better.” Nyri winked. “You look like yourself again.”
“Aye.”
“I’m terrified,” she whispered.
“Then you’re definitely yourself again,” Magnus quipped. “Come on.”
“Wait!” Nyri shrieked. “She has to see herself!”
She shoved Lunara into the washroom, in front of the full length mirror gracing one wall, and—
Shitting stars. Lunara hardly recognized herself.
Brand must’ve described her preferred shape of gown right down to the stitches—a neckline that barely clung to her shoulders. Long, billowing sleeves gathered at the wrists. Skirts to the ground.
And yet, he’d taken liberties.
There was a slit in one side that went all the way up a thigh and hip, and the bust of it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was almost carnal, the way the fabric flowed over her like water, even as it stayed perfectly in place, clinging to her skin and hugging her curves.
The flowers Nyri had woven into her hair looked like they’d sprouted from inside her. Like her curls had been made to hold them. It was still wild and rebellious, but that only complimented the garment.
Lunara felt beautiful, in a way she maybe never had before, but still. “What if it’s not enough?”
What if she’d let him down so spectacularly by running away that she just… wasn’t enough anymore?
Magnus barked out a laugh. “Brand’s head is going to melt right out of his arse when he sees you.”
“I know the feeling,” she whispered, knowing they weren’t at all talking about the same thing.
What if, what if, what if…
“The sunstar won’t wait for the likes of us, witchling. Trust me, you won’t want to miss this.” He jutted out an elbow, brows expectant. “Shall we?”
What if…
She’d never know if she didn’t try.
With a deep breath, knees shaking, Lunara took his arm.