Chapter 9
Hope
The first night back at the safehouse was awkward.
It was still—which was a change after the constant roaming and gentle rocking of the navias while they traveled across the Radel Sea.
It was sleepless for Hope, and she doubted Ciaran had slept much at all. They cuddled at the beginning of the night, and she didn’t allow her body to heat excessively despite what the closeness of his body did to the apex of her thighs.
Nevermind that he had never been inside of her—inside of anyone, ever—yet, and she couldn’t wait to know what this man would feel inside the warmth of her core.
Nevermind how much they desired each other and the hardness she felt between his legs which was begging to be touched, to be stroked, to be licked…
Never mind none of that, today was a day for mourning the lives they had allowed to die.
It was a self-inflicted punishment to wait until they could satisfy their needs and darkest desires.
The memory of his voice didn’t help. “I’d fuck you senseless in every possible way. I’ve had centuries to gather ideas,” he told her not long ago.
She couldn’t stand it any longer, so Hope sat up on Ciaran’s bed. “I’m just going to organize the mess in the Badassery Suite. Get me if you need me, please.” It seemed a decade ago when they had named the room they used to train their bodies and their magic.
“It’s four ante meridiem,” he observed.
She nodded. “Perfect time to clean my blades and burn all the bloody clothes from yesterday.”
“You do you,” he said, giving her a kiss on her waist. “I love you.”
She walked towards the Badassery Suite, her steps quiet against the floor in the middle of the silent, asleep house. Except—the safehouse was everything but silent.
The loudest sounds came from Lenna’s room, and when Hope approached the door, the noise of uncontrolled sobs was distinguishable. A tight knot seemed to jump to her throat, depriving her of air.
According to Ciaran, Jake had left hours ago.
Lenna’s best friend Sasha was dead, and Brendon was too.
Out of the non-panoms of their inner circle, only Indianna and Nina were alive.
Ayla, her own sister, though, was also in the house, and so were she and Ciaran.
Despite that, Lenna was crying—suffering—alone.
Hope knocked at the door a few times, without response. She wasn’t even sure if Lenna could hear her knocks over the desperate sounds of her pain. “Lenna,” she finally said, raising her voice.
The sobs suddenly stopped, and the only response coming from inside was, “Fuck.” After, only absolute silence followed, irrevocable proof of a Given sound barrier by the owner of the huge grief and pain inside.
Worry beyond measure was increasingly speeding through Hope’s veins, tightening her blood vessels.
It was not a worry about Lenna not being able to fulfill the role of First Feather, helping Hope rule the nation, as she had promised.
Cardinals, they were so far from that. Hope didn’t even have a throne to rule, and the nation was invaded by an army of flying creatures.
Lenna was so far from that. The most worrying part was that instead of asking for help or company, she seemed to distance herself from everyone and everything, not letting them get closer to her pain.
As she assumed her failure and Lenna’s refusal to have anyone with her on perhaps the worst night of her life, Hope’s steps restarted, pacing slowly towards the suite.
She walked through the doors that led to the patio and spotted white hair amongst nature.
Stevian was kneeling on the floor, his hands in semi-circles as his lips moved while he prayed to his god and to the moon above him, shadows leaving his hands and trailing towards the night sky.
The stars in the sky seemed to shine especially brightly tonight.
Down the corridor, warm dim light came from a half-open door, the sound of crystal and metal clattering filling that side of the house. Hope popped her head in.
“Late night experiments, Indianna?” she asked.
Her fringe and black bob swung as the scientific mastermind turned to look at Hope, two crystal vials in hand.
One was long and narrow, with bubbling orange liquid filling it to the rim, the other was wide and shorter, with a mix of powders and dried petals sitting steadily. Her dark eyes were red and swollen.
“Hi, Hope,” she greeted. “I can’t sleep.”
“Me either. What are you doing?” Hope asked. “I like the powder thing with the petals.”
Indianna left the vial with the bubbling liquid in a placeholder and lifted the powder vial until it was in front of her narrowed eyes, a magnifying glass in her other hand as she scrutinized its contents carefully.
“I am just playing with a few ingredients, really, seeing how they interact and tolerate each other.” She sighed.
“Sasha loved when I added dried petals to my—potions, she called them—and Brendon always laughed when I used powders, saying I was just getting sand from the beach and spending my paid time building sandcastles like a child.”
Hope smiled, her eyes tearing up again, and they walked towards each other until they fused in a tight hug. “We will always remember them,” Hope said.
“They deserved a better death than that. They were good people,” Indianna said.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
After a while of admiring Indianna using tools and techniques Hope had never seen before, she waved and resumed her walk to the Badassery Suite.
The next sound that made Hope stop came from the room Ayla and Nina shared. The sounds weren’t pleasant, they were unclear, muffled sounds, as if someone was fighting unconscious.
“I am here, Nina,” Ayla was whispering. “I am with you.”
Was the only person who had managed to fall asleep having nightmares?
“I’ve got you, Nina. You are safe,” Ayla kept repeating softly while Nina’s sounds continued.