Chapter 29 #2
I bite my cheek as the reality of the situation sets in. She hadn’t been trying to kill me, nor was she trying to kiss me. I’d been a fool to conclude one or the other when there had been a clear alternate answer present in her steady, caring voice.
My head fills with an all-consuming heat, but I doubt the night will expose my embarrassment. I’ll eat my own words before Ether can conclude any visible signs of mortification.
If she thinks anything of my outburst, she says nothing about it.
Her words are ever-caring and gentle, yet still guarded.
“Now hold still while I get the other eye. I will rinse off the paste once it’s set.
” At my hesitant nod, her hand returns to my face.
I shake off the shudder at her touch as she applies the ointment to my other eye.
It stings, burns, makes me want to claw it out. I clench my fists and focus on my breathing as the ointment singes through my flesh and tears pour endlessly over my cheeks.
When I can’t bear it any longer, a cool rush of water washes away the burning and drips to my chin.
There’s a change in Ether’s eluviam, as though it’s lessened a little, and I immediately know she’s used magic to conjure the pure spring.
Her small thumbs swipe over my eyelids, ridding them of excess paste. Once she’s finished, she scoots away, distancing herself once more.
“Open your eyes, Ramiel.”
Her pronunciation of my name makes me swoon, but I hold my breath and fight against the urge to pull her close once more.
My heart thuds in my chest as I gulp down my nervousness, wet my lips, and open my eyes.
The world is still dark.
Ether’s hands are on my shoulders, and words are coming from her mouth, but I hear nothing, comprehend none of the condolences pouring from her lips.
Thoughts flog my inner being.
Hopelessness swallows me.
King Azriel can’t possibly think his blind, illegitimate son will be his heir.
He’s sending me to my imminent death. He probably has someone else in line for the throne just waiting to snatch my birthright from under me.
I’ll be made into a laughingstock at the Feast of Undying.
How could I have ever held an ounce of faith that I could prove myself to him?
Especially after all these years of hiding, being ignored, and under constant comparison with Xavelor?
I’m worthless to the king. If I were to die in Aldorin, would he hold a funeral for me? I nearly laugh at the absurdity of the question. Of course he wouldn’t stoop so low as to honor his only surviving son. The only person who ever cared for me is my mother, and her body burned thirteen years ago.
“... and I promise you, sight isn’t everything.” Ether’s words cut through my thoughts, but instead of feeling calmed by her affirmation, vitriol rolls over my tongue.
“Don’t speak of sight as though it’s something you could live without,” I seethe. “Mine was stolen from me. It wasn’t my choice to never see again. Who in their right mind would have made this choice?”
Her fingers grip my shoulder, but I feel nothing. My arm is numb. My heart is numb. I am numb.
“If I could, I would switch with you,” she says, not missing a beat. A shadowed laugh huffs through her lips. “But my sight is cursed. It would be a one-sided exchange where I’d be the only one satisfied. Would you prefer that?”
“At least you can see,” I say through my teeth. My left arm heats as I speak, as though channeling my rising anger. “Why would you bring me an ointment when you didn’t even know if it would work?”
“It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?” Her hand loosens on my arm, and her words curdle with hurt. “We will make progress in Hearthstrom. With or without your sight, you will be successful at the Feast. But you have to believe in yourself first. I can’t do that for you.”
“Do you have a plan?” I resign, resting my chin in my hand. “Have you thought about how you might train a hopeless pupil?”
“Yes, even before we started this trip.” Her voice drops to a low murmur. “And you are not hopeless. We will arrive at Hearthstrom tomorrow and begin your training then. There’s no time for rest.”
I breathe deeply when her arm leaves my shoulder.
All at once, the anger flees, and feeling starts to return to my limbs, my heart seeming to come alive again. Horror flushes in my cheeks at the way I’d lashed out at her.
“Also,” she says with a pause, “I’m sorry for belittling your situation. You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to lose my sight. But I’ve lost other things. We’ve all lost things important to us. I need you to remember you’re not alone. Not ever.”
I smile at her—well, her eluviam, and tilt my head so I might be vaguely fixing my gaze on her face instead.
“Then, can you please promise to tell me when you plan on adventuring in the night again?”
Her shoulder leans into mine, and my chest thumps, sending signals to my arms and legs, but they go rigid, unsure of how to react. I wonder if she feels the same way. I hope it isn’t just me.
“Ramiel,” she whispers.
This time, the way she says my name ensnares me, and the last few minutes are completely forgotten. I am hers. She has my full attention.
She makes a cute, innocent sound, and I wonder why laughter had been outlawed in the first place. To suck the fun away from magical beings? To punish happiness? The sound is so bubbly, so life-giving, that it rings through the wood even though she’s barely made a sound.
I marvel at the musical timbre of her laugh, at its magical quality humming in the air. If it is her goal to disarm me, it works—I become helplessly vulnerable to her attack.
Her fingers enshroud my wrists, and her breath tickles my nose as she bends closer. The seconds seem to stretch into one long, excruciating moment as I tremble at her nearness, my elbows locking and unlocking clumsily, and my heart lurching into my throat.
“I hope this is enough to settle your worries,” she murmurs.
Though I can’t see her, I can imagine how beautiful and wild she must look. I wonder what color fills her eyes, what expression she makes (have her lashes swept over her cheeks as mine have?) before her velvet lips press soft against mine.
I’m lame to react, becoming stiff like a petrified tree.
Her touch is sweet, weightless, perfect.
And for the brief moment we connect, all is right with the world.
There is no Feast, there is no tension between the kingdom and the forest, and there is no misunderstanding between us.
The heat that blooms in my chest swarms with the power in hers, and the following seconds fill me with a wholeness I never want to part from.
She pulls away before I can process my emotions and return her kiss.
A warmth steals my attention, scurrying from my mouth down to my throat, and lands in my stomach. It writhes there for a moment before amplifying into a flickering flame which ascends into my eluviam.
Her presence moves away as she stands, and I reach for her hand. My fingers wrap around her small knuckles, which burn like hot coals. I hold her there as my heartbeat pulses along my arm.
“Ether,” I say in as steady a tone as I can muster. But anguish fills me as I realize she hasn’t merely kissed me… She’s transferred energy into my eluviam from her own. The pure power joins the weakness within me.
Still, I cannot deny the beating of my own heart, the residual heat from her lips numbing mine. “I must know what color your eyes are, right now, at this moment.”
Her hand slowly curls into a tiny ball, her voice slightly hoarse as she says, “Why do you wish to know such a thing?”
Because Ronan told me about it , I almost say, but I know better than to bring him into the conversation. Instead, I squeeze her hand and try a different approach. “I noticed they changed color before, from a vibrant pink to a mellow blue. I have been curious. I hope it isn’t rude for me to pry?—”
“No, you’re not rude,” she croaks incredulously. Her fist loosens, and her fingers lift, repositioning to wrap around my hand. “I... I imagine…they’re probably…some variant of brown.”
Red. Brown. Black. The three colors Ronan had mentioned. According to his explanations, brown reflects the most positive emotion of the three.
She’s probably flustered. Or maybe she feels drawn to me, as I feel helplessly drawn to her, wanting to ruin myself in her embrace.
“I understand,” is all I say.
“You…” Ether inhales slowly, then sits down. Her hand is still in mine, our bond sated. “How would you be able to understand?”
“When we first met in Arcanvale, I saw brown in your eyes. A flash between black and brown, but mostly a dark, earthy brown.” Even I’m unsure if this will be enough to convince her, so I continue, choosing my words carefully, “I suspect you heard rumors about my brother, Xavelor?”
“Of course,” she whispers, confused.
“His charm was unparalleled, enough to captivate any maiden.” I half cringe at the praise. Part of me wishes to tell her about his bloody history with elves, but that can wait for another time. I loathe bringing him up at all. “However, you thought I was the crown prince that day.”
A beat of tense silence passes between us. She clears her throat, and her fingers twitch in mine.
“Okay,” she finally squeaks, “you’re right.
I thought you were Xavelor. And he was always said to be wildly attractive.
” She gulps. “I’ll admit, I believed those rumors when I saw you.
” I start to hold her hand tighter, my heart singing.
And then she says, “But more importantly, I thought you lied to me so I’d agree to be your ally without question. ”
I inhale sharply.
But that is a fair judgment, because I have used her. She’s all I have.
I open my hand to release hers.
“But you’re Ramiel,” she whispers. “You always have been. You are not your brother.”
For the first time, these words are not insulting. They are meant to raise my spirits. I am not Xavelor, and this is a good thing.
My body is unsure how to react.
She recognizes me for who I am, not for who I’ve been told to be. Hearing Ether’s confession is like a dam that has burst, releasing the worries and fears I’ve carried with me my entire life.
This is what it feels like to be seen .
Heat returns to my lips, put under a spell by our bond.
No , I speak to it, shaking my head.
I want to kiss her. For real. Not for a transfer of energy, but for...I don’t know...for something immaterial, something maddeningly illogical. For a reason that doesn’t make any sense.
A stupid grin hinges on my cheeks.
Ether understands me. She sees me. Beyond my human imperfection, beyond the terrible things my people have done to oppress hers, she views me in a positive light even though her natural opinion of me should be anything but positive.
She stands, pulling me and my spiraling thoughts with her.
“Come, let me walk you back inside. You’ll want to be well-rested for the journey tomorrow,” she says softly.
Steady confidence returns to her voice, somehow calm after our conversation.
For an emotionally transparent being, she’s mastered the art of concealing her excitement.
Or perhaps the kiss didn’t mean anything special to her.
I think a part of me is okay with that. For now.
We walk inside, her hand in mine as she carefully leads me up the stairs.
Once I’m in bed and Ether has returned to hers, I surrender to the exhaustion, letting it sweep away the chaos of thoughts tugging at my heart and mind.
Yet, as I drift, those thoughts coalesce into a vivid reverie of Ether—the beautiful elf with twin black braids and irises that shift like a living canvas.
Her tapered ears flush pink with warmth, and her eyes glimmer as they find mine.
I love her.
The words feel foreign, unfamiliar.
But I’m ready to let them consume me, irreversibly and without mercy.