Chapter 39 #2
“How about Isera and Alistair? After everything they’ve seen you go through, everything they’ve seen you accomplish, everything you’ve done for them and for all of us, do you really think they would ever see you as the weak link?”
“Well, uhm… no, I guess not,” I admit.
“Then who are you worried about?”
“I don’t know. Everyone except you?”
“And what are you worried about?”
“That everyone will think I’m the weak link. I don’t want to be the weak link!”
“Do you think you’re the weak link?”
“No. I am struggling with these side effects, I will admit that. But it’s just one part of me.
” That age-old frustration of always having to prove myself to others bubbles up, and the anger helps chase away some of the self-disgust. “Everything else about me is still the same. I’m still an asset.
I always have been.” Then I glance away as worry blows through me again.
“But I’m worried that if people know about this one thing that I’m struggling with, it will make them think that I’m untrustworthy and unreliable again. ”
Draven heaves a long sigh. Dropping his hands from my cheeks, he instead reaches towards one of the glass jars. I blink at him in surprise as he holds up the jar in front of my face.
“What’s this?” he asks.
I stare at the jar. Small carrots float around in the clear liquid inside, and there is a label on the front written in neat script which reads: Pickled Carrots.
Confused, I look up from the jar to meet Draven’s gaze as I answer, “Carrots?”
He nods. Then he sets down the jar and picks up another one. I watch in bewilderment as he rips off the label on that second jar and slaps it onto the first one. The first label is now covered by one that reads: Pickled Onions.
Draven holds up the jar in front of my face again. “And now? What is it now?”
I glance down at the new label, which is almost falling off, before studying the carrots that still float inside. With a confused frown on my face, I meet Draven’s gaze again and reply, “Uhm, carrots?”
“No. Look.” He points at the label he just put on it. “See? It says onions.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s still carrots inside.”
“Exactly.”
I just stare at him in bewilderment. He lets out a soft chuckle at my utterly befuddled expression.
Then he turns serious again as he points to the jar.
“No matter how much I try to tell you that this is onions, it’s still carrots inside.
” He sets the jar down before locking eyes with me again.
“So it doesn’t matter what someone else thinks you’re made of or says you’re made of.
It still doesn’t change what you’re actually made of. ”
A baffled laugh, full of sheer relief escapes me. The whole demonstration with the carrots and the onions is so ridiculous and absurd that it actually works.
He lets out another chuckle as well when he hears me laugh, and the pain in his eyes is replaced by only love as he looks at me.
“That was a very cute explanation,” I tell him, a smile on my face.
“Thanks. I worked hard on it.” Then seriousness blows across his features again, and his eyes turn grave as he leans back in his chair while raking his fingers through his hair.
“I’ve struggled with things like this too, you know.
For two hundred years, my people thought I was a traitor.
But I knew that I wasn’t. So it didn’t matter what everyone else thought I was.
It didn’t change what I really was. Took me decades to truly come to terms with that, though. ”
Just hearing him admit that he has also struggled with things like this somehow makes me feel much lighter, and it makes me realize that I can be incredibly wrapped up in my own head sometimes.
As if I’m the only one who is battling insecurities.
But I’m not. Everyone is fighting their own war.
I tend to always assume that everyone else is perfect and that I am the only one who has flaws, which is why it’s so difficult to admit those flaws out loud.
But I need to. I’ve been trying to convince myself that I can do this on my own. That I can handle this addictive side effect of my magic all by myself. But the truth is that I can’t. I need help.
So I drag in a bracing breath and finally speak the words that I should have said months ago.
“I need help, Draven. I know that it doesn’t make me weak, but I’m still really struggling with the side effects of my magic.
” I rub my temple while that incessant urge continues throbbing inside my skull.
“That warm, comforting feeling of pleasure I get is incredibly addictive. Even now, during our whole conversation, half of my mind isn’t even listening because it’s busy begging me to use my magic again so that I can feel that pleasure. ”
“Then let me carry half of it,” he says.
I blink at him. “How?”
“You can attach your own emotions to other people, right? Even emotions that you normally can’t create.
Like love. And when you do, it lets them feel half of the emotion and decreases that emotion by half inside of you.
” His eyes are dead serious as he holds my gaze.
“So attach this feeling of addictive need to me. That way, each of us will only feel half of it.”
My heart beats hard as I stare back at him. “You want me to…?”
“Of course I do.” He draws soft fingers over my cheek. “I’ve already told you. You are not alone anymore.”
I swallow against the sudden thickness in my throat. My heart swells with so much love and gratitude that it feels like it’s going to burst.
“I love you,” I choke out. “So much.”
He smiles. “I love you too, little rebel.” Then he gives me a nod.
“Now, do it. I don’t want you to have to carry this alone for even one more second.
You’re mine, and I am yours. And we share everything.
Our hearts, our minds, our souls, and everything that comes with it.
The good and the bad. So let me help you carry this the way I should have done for months. ”
I draw my fingers over his cheek, feeling like my heart is going to explode from the sheer amount of love I feel for this extraordinary man. He smiles and then nods, urging me to do it.
After drawing in a breath to compose myself, I let my hand drop back down into my lap and close my eyes so that I can focus on my magic.
Then I reach for that feeling of addictive need inside me.
It thrashes there in my chest like a roaring wildfire.
Grabbing it, I tentatively stretch it out from me and towards Draven.
In my mind’s eye, I can see it whipping there in front of my chest like a vicious snake covered in fire.
While one side remains stuck inside my own chest, I attached the other end of the emotion to Draven’s chest.
Relief crashes over me. It’s so intense that I actually gasp.
With half of the emotion gone, it suddenly only feels like a casual option, a suggestion, that I should use my magic again.
Not an insistent demand. I can still feel it there inside me, but I no longer have to fight against that awful constant urge.
It’s like feeling slightly peckish instead of feeling like I’ve been starving for weeks.
Snapping my gaze up to Draven’s face, I study his features for signs of discomfort. But he looks just like he always does. Calm and powerful and in control.
“How do you feel?” I ask, my pulse pattering.
“Mostly normal,” he replies. “I mean, I can feel it. But it’s nothing that bothers me or distracts me.” His eyes gleam as he gives me a sly smile. “The need to touch you after my side of the mate bond snapped into place last year was much worse.”
I laugh. It’s full of relief and gratitude.
He smiles back at me. But then he cocks his head while a considering look blows across his handsome features. “Won’t this drain your magic, though?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“What if you attached it to our mate bond?”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “How?”
“Try joining it with that bond. Like two threads that intertwine.”
While trying to visualize what he said, I reach for that flow of my magic between us and then imagine myself braiding it together with our mate bond.
At first, the two forces just twist and roll, as if unsure what to do.
But then with my gentle coaxing, they start to flow over and under each other, turning into a glimmering bridge that now shimmers faintly with my magic as well.
A stunned breath escapes my lips when my magical energy stops draining out of me.
I release the grip on my magic fully, but that flow of addictive need is now intertwined with the mate bond, and it doesn’t disappear even though I’m no longer actively using my powers. My eyes stop glowing as I snap my gaze up to Draven in stunned disbelief.
“It worked?” he asks.
I grin.
Relief and strength surge up inside me like a warm summer wave.
And suddenly, I feel as if I can breathe again.
The crushing regret that I will never know if my parents loved me is still there, but now that it isn’t being compounded by the intense addiction to that comforting pleasure as well, I feel like I can finally function properly again.
I feel ready to fight. To scream. To rage and burn and destroy until Jessina Iceheart is bleeding out under the blade of my knife.
The difference between how I feel now and the black sea I’ve been drowning in for weeks is so stark that I suddenly feel drunk with power.
I can do this. At last, I finally feel like I will actually be able to stand up and fight the battle that is waiting for us when the sun rises. And it’s all because of him.
Sliding my hand around the back of Draven’s neck, I pull him closer and kiss him hard. Then I rest my forehead against his. “Thank you.”
“Always, little rebel,” he whispers back against my lips.
I pull back, feeling that surge of fire and fury roar inside me. Draven has saved me. Again. And now, it’s time for me to save him too. To save us all. It’s time to bring down the Iceheart Dynasty and get everything we deserve.
When Draven notices the expression on my face, a wicked smile spreads across his lips as well. “There she is.” He draws his fingers along my jaw. “Let’s go win this war.”
“Yes. Let’s go get fucking everything.”