Chapter 26 Ezra
Something had passed between Helena and Lavinia within that dream, something I did not think I could ever truly understand.
Liv had told me of the horrors they endured in the caves, but the way Helena screamed...
there had been nothing in it but unbridled pain.
In truth, I already knew of Liv's nightmares.
More nights than I cared to count, I had woken to her cries and gathered her against my chest until the trembling stopped and sleep found her once more.
Yet even I could never give her what Helena unknowingly had.
Understanding. Comfort could ease the pain, but it could never replace being understood by someone who had lived through the same nightmare.
They had both carried the same wound in silence, believing themselves alone. They would not have to anymore.
I lifted the pitcher and let the warm water cascade through Liv's hair.
Soap and fragrant oils drifted through the strands before disappearing beneath the surface of the bath.
She melted back against my chest with a contented sigh, the tension slowly leaving her shoulders.
It had not seemed right to return immediately to maps and strategy after Rafael and Helena's journey through her mind.
There would be time enough for plans. Right now, she needed peace.
A bath had always seemed to help. If it could not wash away the memories, it could at least quiet them for a little while.
“I am here, you know.” My hands continued their slow circles over her shoulders.
“Should you ever wish to speak of the caves... I know I can never truly understand what happened there. But I will listen.”
Some of the tension eased beneath my hands.
The rest, I suspected, would take far longer to loosen.
She said nothing. We sat together in comfortable silence until the water cooled, and her eyelids grew heavy.
I lifted her from the bath and cradled her against my chest.
“I am sorry, little star.” I brushed a damp strand of hair from her face.
“There will be time for a nap later. The others are waiting for us in the kitchen. We still have to decide how we are going to help the girls.”
I carried her to the bed and helped her into the gown she had laid out.
She stretched her arms wide with a yawn and then shot to her feet, shaking the last of the drowsiness from herself.
“Alright, let’s go.” I blinked after her. Moments ago she had been on the verge of falling asleep in my arms. Now she strode toward the door as though she had merely needed a moment to collect herself.
By the time we reached the kitchen, Rafael, Helena, and Margaret were already seated around the table.
Christine and Eliza sat beneath it, giggling as they dressed their dolls in scraps of fabric.
Outside, the older girls continued their training, the muffled thud of wooden practice swords drifting through the open window.
The distance between Rafael and Helena did not escape me.
The ribbon that had bound their hands together was gone, and with it whatever civility Helena had briefly afforded him.
She had chosen the chair furthest from his and now sat with her arms crossed, refusing to so much as glance in his direction.
Whatever understanding they had reached in the dream appeared to have been remarkably short-lived.
Yet he remained. Most men would have fled the sanctuary days ago.
Rafael simply accepted each fresh punishment as though enduring Helena's temper were a price he had already decided was worth paying.
“Right...” Lavinia's eyes darted between the two of them, as though afraid to disturb whatever fragile peace was keeping Helena from Rafael's throat. “So... you two will be going into Stanhope's mind. You need to be prepared for what that means.” She gestured toward me.
“You need to understand how he operates,” I said as I took my seat.
Margaret immediately extended a steaming cup of tea in my direction.
I raised a hand politely. “No, thank you.”
She frowned. It seemed Margaret possessed a tea for every conceivable circumstance.
Grief, sleeplessness, injuries, difficult conversations...
I was beginning to suspect she would eventually discover one capable of ending wars.
“Stanhope is not a villain,” I said carefully.
“Not by his own measure. He believes himself a savior. Every atrocity he commits is, in his mind, a sacrifice made for the greater good. That is what makes him dangerous. He does not manipulate people into doing what they know is wrong. He convinces them it is the only right thing left to do.”
“He is very charming, which makes him all the more convincing. If one is not careful, they will find themselves beneath his influence before they even realize what is happening.”
Liv shifted beside me, her gaze falling to the table.
I did not need her to explain. For a time, she had believed Stanhope was a good man. A good suitor.
“For as vile as he may seem in the waking world, I would not wish to see the world through his eyes.”
I looked between Helena and Rafael, making certain they understood the weight of what I was asking of them.
“Keep your wits about you. I do not believe anyone has ever stepped willingly into a mind quite like his. The danger is not what you will see. It is what you may begin to believe while you are there.”
Liv released a slow breath and found my hand beneath the table.
I laced my fingers through hers and reached for her through our soul bond.
Unease stirred there, woven together with concern. Not for herself. For Helena.
“So what exactly are we looking for when we get in there?” Rafael asked from across the table.
“The girls,” I answered without hesitation.
“More specifically, the ones he has already found. If Stanhope knows where they are, they are in the greatest danger.”
I leaned over the map, tapping several marked locations with my finger.
“Pay attention to anything that reveals where he intends to hunt them, where he plans to take them, or what he intends to do with them once he has them. Those memories take priority above all else.”
I looked back to Rafael. “You said you can influence dreams. Guide thoughts rather than control them.”
He nodded. “Explain exactly how that works.”
“I call it... um... the whispers,” Rafael said quietly before clearing his throat.
“I can whisper through the windows of a dream and... encourage it to drift toward certain thoughts. The person must already be thinking about something related, but if I whisper... I can nudge the dream in another direction.”
I did not entirely understand what he meant by windows or nudging a dream, but by the look on Helena's face, she understood well enough.
“How did you even discover that?” Helena asked, sounding almost offended by the idea. “That is not an ability one simply stumbles upon.” Rafael lowered his eyes.
“I did not.” His fingers twisted together in his lap.
“After our parents died of consumption, my younger brother had terrible nightmares. He woke screaming almost every night.”
He swallowed. “I entered his dreams to see what frightened him so badly. He kept reliving the moment they died.”
His voice softened. “I whispered no. It was less a command than... a thought spoken aloud. Somehow, his mind turned away from the memory. So I tried it again the next night... and the night after that. Eventually, I realized I could gently guide his dreams away from the worst of them...
toward happier memories instead.”
For the briefest moment, Helena's expression softened. Then the walls came back up.
“Okay, we have our plan, and we know what we're looking for. If this takes any longer than the last dream walk, I would much rather be in my own bed than asleep in the middle of the kitchen.”
Helena pushed back her chair and rose to her feet.
I did not miss Rafael's hesitation. He watched her for the briefest moment, uncertainty plain across his face, before looking to me instead.
I gave him a small nod toward the door. He hesitated only a heartbeat longer before following her.