Epilogue I #3
“Aidan!” Jasper’s panicked voice followed him across the room.
Aidan made it to the doorway of the bathing chamber but stopped, leaning in the frame.
“Aidan, are you alright?” Jasper asked, genuine concern in his voice.
Undeserved concern, something cruel in him insisted. He should’ve been able to stop Morland. He should’ve been able to push the man out, to protect those that depended on him.
His nausea had subsided for the moment, and Aidan looked at his hand that gripped the doorframe, his knuckles nearly white from the strength of his hold. He hadn’t had control of his hands for weeks, and these hands had wrought so much pain and suffering in that short time.
Before he could stop himself, Aidan grabbed the handle of the door and slammed it closed as hard as he could on his hand in the frame.
He screamed as sharp, stabbing pain shot through his palm and all the way up his arm.
He felt something crunch in the hand, but whether he’d broken bones or not, he wasn’t sure.
“Aidan!” Jasper’s cry of shock was lost under Aidan’s own wail of agony as he pulled the hand back from the door jam and sunk to his knees.
“Aidan, what in the three hells are you doing?” Jasper asked.
Aidan flinched as Jasper’s strong arms came around him.
Jasper pulled him close, but the throbbing pain in Aidan’s hand kept him from savoring the feel of his husband’s touch, the first real touch in days.
Aidan wanted to melt into Jasper’s warmth, to enjoy the press of their bodies against each other, but the ache in his hand and the mental sting of unworthiness only made his skin feel raw against Jasper’s embrace.
He resisted the urge to pull away and instead leaned in further despite the discomfort.
“I…I,” Aidan tried to explain, but words eluded him. How could he explain that he’d wanted to punish his hands for what they’d done? As if they weren’t a part of him. As if they’d somehow been acting of their own accord these last few weeks.
“I’ll call a healer,” Jasper said, starting to rise from his crouch.
Aidan grabbed his forearm, and he was so relieved Jasper didn’t recoil away that he almost forgot the pain in his hand. “Wait, not yet,” he said.
“Aidan, don’t be ridiculous,” Jasper insisted. “We need to get a healer in here in case you broke something.”
“Not yet,” Aidan whispered as he fell back to sit on the floor. He cradled the injured hand against his chest as he flexed the other one. Could he ever forgive these hands for what they’d done? Could Jasper?
Aidan jumped again as Jasper’s own hand appeared before him, and his husband threaded his fingers through those of Aidan’s uninjured hand.
“I know what you were trying to do,” Jasper whispered, “but that’s not the way you fix this.”
Aidan looked up at him. “How do I fix it then?” he asked.
“You don’t,” Jasper said. “We do. We do it together, the way we’ve always done. It will take some time, but we’ll get there.”
Aidan let his head fall back against Jasper’s shoulder. “I have nightmares,” he said.
“I know,” Jasper said. “I’ve woken a couple times when you had them. I stroke your hair when you do, and it usually calms you down.”
Aidan furrowed his brow. He’d jolted awake a few times from the nightmares, but Jasper had always remained asleep on the other side of the bed. Yet there’d been other times when the nightmares had simply faded and given way to oblivion. Had those times been Jasper’s doing?
Aidan looked down at his hand where Jasper clasped it in his. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Jasper shushed him gently. “It wasn’t you. I know that. It’s just going to take my body a while to get the message. Please be patient with me.”
Aidan nodded against Jasper’s chest. There were several other people who would need the same leeway, not the least of which was Bressen’s new assassin, although Bressen assured Aidan he wasn’t employing Talyn in that capacity.
Still, he remembered Morland, in his body, telling the woman in great detail what he’d done to her sister.
He wouldn’t be at all shocked to find her standing over him one of these nights, dagger poised to slit his throat.
“Do you promise to forgive me one of these days?” Aidan asked.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Jasper said firmly. “Now let me call a healer for that hand.”
Aidan nodded again, and Jasper slowly pulled away from him, untwining their fingers so he could go find a message leaf.
Aidan sat on the floor looking at his hands.
One already had the makings of a large bruise, and it was bleeding from a cut across the palm.
The pain had dulled to a pulsing ache, but the fingers didn’t move easily when he tried to flex them.
The other hand, just as guilty as the first, was unblemished and felt fine, although Aidan could still feel the ghost of Jasper’s touch on it.
The healer would be here soon, and when she was done, the first hand would be good as new, with no scar or pain to mark what had happened.
Would that his soul were so lucky.