Chapter 19
Mora
Mora roused slowly, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. The cadence of her heart sang a slow, gentle song, its lullaby nearly pulling her back into the realm of dreams. All the while, refreshing mint and the crisp scent of rain held her in a soft embrace, along with... sea salt and sage?
“As much as I enjoy being cuddled, you don’t need to clutch me so tightly,” Castellan mumbled before he yawned, his hand resting on Mora’s back.
She stiffened. Why was he holding her? Where were they? The last thing she remembered was...
Did you miss me, Treasure?
Air hissed between her teeth on a sharp inhale. Mora’s fingers curled, biting into Castellan’s skin through the thick material of his gray cloak. She couldn’t bring herself to care when he flinched, a pained gasp on his breath.
“Have I offended you?” he asked, fidgeting beneath her.
A crushing feeling bloomed in Mora’s chest—she was stuck, unable to convince her fingers to unfurl.
Trembles ravaged her body, limbs shaking while her lungs screamed for air, but she couldn’t breathe.
Castellan’s touch was too heavy on her back, the heat of his skin seeping through layers of clothing between them to scorch her flesh.
All she could think of were sticky black sheets and ravenous hands.
“Don’t,” she wheezed.
Castellan sat up, Mora held tightly against him. His blond curls hit a cluster of twigs, pine needles raining down onto their heads. “Don’t what?”
A scream tore from her throat. Mora shoved Castellan away, scurrying back until she slammed into a wall of frigid snow.
Low hanging boughs creaked as they bent in her direction, their scraggly branches slipping through her hair, somehow soothing her erratic heart when the woodsy scent of pine filled her lungs.
“Do not touch me,” Mora finally panted between breaths.
Castellan held his hands up as he stood, bits of conifer needles clinging to his cloak.
He’d dug a hole in the snow at the base of a tree, the bottom lined with branches and needles from the nearest evergreens.
With the canopy overhead, their den was surprisingly warm, considering the chill in the air.
When had Castellan made them this nook? When had she fallen asleep? All she could remember was collapsing into his arms, Dother cackling in her ears, because...
Mora traced her belt until she found the pouch. It was soft against her fingertips, the leather dipping beneath her touch. She choked on a sob. It was real. It was all real.
Branches crunched under Castellan’s boots as he neared.
“I’m not going to touch you.” His voice was soft.
Calm. Dripping with so much pity, Mora gritted her teeth.
Kneeling in front of her, he frowned, his shoulders sagging.
“You need to slow your breathing, Princess.” Like the ridiculous, gallant knight she imagined him to be, Castellan placed his hand on his heart, the morning sun glowing at his back like a beacon. “I can help. Breathe with me.”
He took a slow, deep breath in and held it for a moment before exhaling, a chilled mist dancing in front of his lips. Air continued to saw in and out of Mora’s lungs, but she watched him, her wide amber eyes studying his face. When he inhaled again, she attempted to join him.
Castellan offered a soft smile. “Just like that. You’re doing great.”
Mora struggled, tumbling back into rapid shallow breaths, but Castellan stayed with her, gently guiding her back until, finally, she sagged on the cold earth, air flowing languidly into her lungs.
When it felt as if Death had released her from his grip, she wiped away her tears and glared at him. “Why were you holding me?” she hissed.
“I didn’t initiate.” He crossed his arms, frowning.
“After you panicked yesterday, you fell asleep, so I let you rest against a tree while I prepared a safe spot for us to spend the night. When I was done, I laid you next to me, but, at some point, you crawled into my arms. You kept saying something about me guarding your dreams. I didn’t have the heart to push you away...
You seemed much calmer when I held you.”
Mora squeezed her eyes shut, heat darkening her cheeks until it spread to her ears.
Pieces of her nightmare lingered—she could still hear Dother’s promise they’d see one another again, the drag of the Forbidden Forest’s branches sliding over her arms too real.
Then there was... comfort? A quiet warmth that felt like home.
Was it Castellan’s touch that had grounded her?
Flashes of gold in an endless black stare flickered through her memories. Mora knew those eyes. Better than she should. The embers of her rage cooled when they beheld her, nearly fading if not for her stubborn need to cling to them. Why the Fae insisted on haunting her dreams, she didn’t know.
Why do I insist on haunting myself?
It was Mora who needed to forget him. And Dother. Even if the bastard insisted on clinging to her forever.
She dug her nails into the supple leather pouch at her waist. “Next time, sleep farther away from me,” Mora muttered to Castellan, refusing to look at him. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the branches above, following the puffy gray tail of a squirrel skittering through the canopy.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, moving closer.
“Apologies won’t fix this.” Nothing will, she thought, her breath still quaking in her lungs.
His lips pressed into a thin line. “Should I wake you next time you have a nightmare?”
Mora tipped her head, eyes flicking to her flask on his belt.
The flowers were somehow more brilliant against his navy breeches, their golden hues glimmering.
Was it odd she longed to be inside? To exist in a state of near nothingness.
Caressed within the glass, Mora knew no pain, other than the endless chatter of her broken mind.
Would Dother eventually quiet if she could no longer feel him clinging to her bones?
“You should let me stay in my flask. I’ll have no dreams within it, so you will no longer need to concern yourself with such things. You can bother me when you’re ready to use your wishes.”
Castellan shook his head. “No, Mora. You deserve to be free. To breathe fresh air, to sleep, to live. I refuse to let you rot in that bottle.” He sighed, glancing to the sky to track the sun as it crawled up the horizon.
There were no whispers of clouds staining the heavens—pink faded from the atmosphere, leaving a bright, brilliant blue in its wake.
If Mora had the energy to appreciate it, she might have found it beautiful.
When she said nothing, disappointment flickered across Castellan’s noble features. “You must be exhausted,” he said, slipping his knapsack over his shoulder. “I’ll try and gather some food before we make for Galdon’s Crossing. You should rest while I’m away.”
Mora’s gaze darted around the trees, searching for hints of Elodie’s blood-red cloak or, worse, glints of azure.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she forced herself not to tremble as she looked up at Castellan. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
If he saw her panic rising once again, the beastly thing too ravenous to tame, he said nothing. A lopsided smirk played on his full lips, the look making him appear more youthful—a glimpse of the man he was before he’d become a King’s Guard, perhaps.
“Of course you’re safe, Princess.” Castellan stepped out of their den, peeking back at her as he moved toward the brush. His expression grew serious, those stormy gray eyes dancing over Mora’s face. “Trust me.”
Two simple words crawled from his lips and filled the space between them as he walked deeper into the trees, lingering even when Mora could no longer see him through the branches.
“I can’t,” she whispered to the winter air, knowing he wouldn’t hear. Though a small part of her, a part she clung to and despised in equal measure, wished she could.