Chapter 33 Rohak #2
“Rohak,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Why is your nose bleeding.”
It was less a question and more of a statement. My previous mounting desire instantly faded, my shoulders slumping as it felt like my entire strength was drained by that one statement. I half-heartedly wiped at my nose, knowing that a streak of blood would be left on the back of my hand.
I sighed heavily before sinking into the couch across the room and gesturing for Faylinn to sit beside me.
She perched on the edge of the sofa, still clutching that journal, and a stray curl fell across her forehead. Her hazel eyes bored into my own, filled with an intensity and deep concern that I’d only seen when her village, Isrun, was massacred last spring.
“Rohak,” Faylinn said again, her tone soft yet stern. “Speak.”
“Bossy thing, aren’t you?” I teased, but there was no heart in it, especially when Faylinn just fixed me with a look bordering on murderous.
“When did it start?” she asked when it was clear I wasn’t going to be forthcoming with answers on my own.
“Tonight,” I admitted as I watched the blood drip from my nose to land on my hands in little jagged-edged circles.
“Tonight,” she deadpanned. “Before or after your magic almost killed me?”
I flinched at her honesty and the recollection of my actions a mere hour previous.
“Before,” I admitted, still refusing to look in her eyes. I didn’t want to see the truth there.
“Did you notice any other symptoms before you started bleeding?”
I hesitated again before nodding curtly.
“Yes.”
“How long ago? What symptoms?”
How did I tell her that I’d been experiencing symptoms for decades? That I thought it was normal to have a constant headache, only made worse when drawing my power. That I heard my power call to me like the sirens of our ancient tales called to unsuspecting sailors.
Faylinn sighed, the silence stretching between us.
I cracked my neck before wiping my nose on the handkerchief Faylinn gave to me. This time, when I confessed, I would look her in the eyes.
“For decades,” I admitted softly as her eyes widened almost comically.
“Decades?” she whispered. “How . . . why . . .” Faylinn stuttered over her words, and I could see her mind working overtime in her intelligent hazel eyes.
“How did I ward it off?” I asked dryly as Faylinn nodded her head, her mouth set into a terse line with her brow furrowed. I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Honestly, for a long time I thought it was the gods rewarding me for my piousness.”
I laughed bitterly at that.
“If that was a gift, then this is surely recompense for deeds that went unpunished.” Faylinn tentatively rested one slender hand on my forearm, physically bridging the gap between us that earlier felt like a chasm.
Why did I push her away for so long? She could have helped me. We could have discussed this together. I almost growled at my stupidity but held back, not wanting to scare Faylinn away. Again. I rather enjoyed having her touch me.
“I’m almost afraid to ask your symptoms,” she muttered quietly, and I shot her a brief smile. Ever the scholar, Faylinn.
“The usual of early-stage Mage Sickness,” I explained.
“Headaches that increased in frequency and potency. Shaking and nausea when I drew my power or when I released it.” I paused, wondering if I should tell her about the voice.
While I was embarrassed about the situation and more concerned that either she or Alois would force me to Bond, I felt the urge to confess everything to her.
To lay it all out in the open so we could start on a fresh slate together.
“I hear a voice,” I admitted quietly, my free hand snaking out to grab hers that was still resting on my forearm.
She was slightly cold to the touch, so I squeezed her hand slightly, hoping to warm it with my own.
Faylinn seemed to nestle closer to me on the couch, both of us drawing comfort from each other.
At least, that’s what I’d like to think was happening.
“You hear a voice?” She chewed her lip, her eyebrows nearly bunched together in thought.
“I need to write this down,” she mumbled as she carefully extracted her hand from my grasp and pulled a charcoal pencil from her waistband.
While I felt the loss of her hand on my arm, I was enraptured by her movements.
The way she deftly flipped the journal open to a blank page, the strokes she made with the pencil—some loopy and cursive, others sharp and angled.
She didn’t write in, what I would consider, a logical way.
Notes and thoughts were at all angles and places on the paper, her words creating art.
It was mesmerizing.
She was mesmerizing.
“What does this voice say?” she mumbled as she wrote a line at the very bottom of the page.
“Nothing particular. It’s more of a feeling than anything. Like it calls to me. Makes me feel invincible, drunk off the power and control.” I felt a weight lift suddenly from my chest at the admission. I’d never told anyone about this before, not even Alois, and it felt right to share it with her.
I admitted as much to her, and she stopped writing abruptly.
“No one else knows?” Her hazel eyes bored into mine with such an intensity that it simultaneously pulled me toward her and pushed me away. Something otherworldly seemed to swim in their depths, and I ached to know all her thoughts, all her secrets.
“No one. Not even Alois,” I confirmed, my gaze never straying from hers.
“Good,” she bit out, and my eyebrows hitched in shock. “Let’s keep it that way.”
I cocked my head slightly, suddenly curious.
“You don’t trust him,” I goaded.
She shook her head, the wayward curls bouncing around her beautiful brown face.
“No,” she admitted with conviction. “I don’t.
I know he’s your friend, Rohak, but there’s something off about him.
Desperately off. And I can’t put my finger on it.
” Faylinn’s fingers tapped absently on her journal, and I had the distinct impression that she’d filed more than a few thoughts and observations about Alois in its depths.
“I agree with you,” I said softly, propping my head against my fist as I leaned against the back of the couch.
Blood still flowed from my nose, but it was much more sluggish than earlier.
Why my symptoms seemed to wax and wane, only now progressing into something more significant, was clearly a mystery to both of us.
One I was hoping we could solve together.
“You do?” she asked incredulously, her whole body turning to face mine.
I nodded once.
“And not just because he sent you to Hestin for six months with no communication?” Faylinn cut straight to one of my biggest insecurities and complaints, but I liked that about her. She never bullshit, never embellished. She was as straightforward as they came—it called to the same part of me.
“No, not just because of that. Though it didn’t help matters,” I admitted ruefully. Faylinn nodded her head before trying to conceal a large yawn behind her hand.
“I’m sorry, the day just caught up to me,” she admitted, exhaustion lacing her tone. “Almost dying and unexpected apologies will do that to you.”
She laughed ruefully as I shot her a small smirk.
Neither of us said anything for a minute, and Faylinn grew uncomfortable in the silence.
“Well, I’ll be going now. Thank you for . . . the conversation,” she babbled, clearly nervous. I loved that little tell of hers.
“I’d like to take you to the Academy library,” I told her softly, which quickly had her mouth snapping closed.
“You would? Oh, thank the gods. I cannot stand going near that place. Every time I get within a few feet, I instantly turn and run the opposite direction.” The relief was palpable in her voice, but her fingers scratched mindlessly at the scars that littered her forearms.
Not for the first time, I wondered what trauma she endured to sustain those types of injuries.
“We’ll go this week,” I declared.
“Wow, so soon?” she asked, her movements stilling. I nodded my head.
“Didn’t you say there was research you needed to conduct?” She nodded again. “I have an office in the Academy.”
Faylinn nodded as she pushed to her feet, tucking the journal and pencil into her waistband as she rose. She padded on silent feet to the door, and I watched her go from my perch on the couch.
“Rohak,” she called as she reached the door, hand poised to pull the handle. “You know you’re going to have to Bond, right?” Her tone was delicate, cajoling. It was clear she didn’t want to have the conversation, but the academic and healer in her demanded it.
I nodded curtly once.
“I’m aware.”
She blew out a breath before nodding her head sadly, her curls bouncing on her forehead.
“I can help you . . . find a Vessel, if you’d like.
Vet them, maybe? Then only introduce you to the ones that I think would be .
. . best.” I hated the way she wouldn’t look at me.
The way her voice shook, like I was going to admonish her at any point.
In fairness, that was exactly what I did all those months ago.
A pang of sadness shot through my body, through my very soul, that my actions had caused this reaction from such a stubborn, headstrong, independent woman.
“Faylinn,” I called softly. “Look at me.”
Her eyes stayed glued to the door.
“Please,” I added, and was surprised that she tilted her head slightly to meet my gaze.
“I’m sorry. For the way I acted when you Bonded Ben.
For pushing you away. For not believing you when you said it was the only way to save him.
That you were only doing it to save him.
” I made sure to hold her eyes with my own the whole time, so she would see the sincerity of my words.
“I never wanted to push you away like that. I would like to go back to how things were . . . before. If you would like. You could work in my office with me, like you used to?”
Faylinn paused for a moment, seeming to think over my words, and my heart thumped erratically in my chest, hoping she would say yes.
To my delight, her head bobbed once before she opened the door, ending our conversation.
“Goodnight, General,” she called, propriety back in place now that there were other ears listening. Faylinn shut the door with a snick before I could call her back to me, wrap her in my arms, and drown in her warmth.
“Goodnight, Faylinn,” I muttered to myself, more at ease and content than I’d been in years. Maybe even forever.