Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
When you’re playing around with magic, powerful magic, it gets a vote.
— From the journal of Violet Andrever
Idrifted in a place between consciousness and dreams, caught in a whirlpool with no way to break free. It reminded me of when I had floated in the ocean, the waves jostling me around, except this time, there was no anchoring touch to keep me steady.
Images filtered through my mind. My childhood, running wild with Nana.
And then, Nana younger, embracing me with open arms. Zachariah, also younger, face curled in disappointment as I struggled with my power.
Wandering through wheat fields immediately into a cave.
The images went on and on. Things I remembered.
Things I didn’t but somehow belonged to me now.
Time had no meaning here, as I drifted and flowed around in space.
It could have been minutes. It could have been hours.
Or longer. Gradually, my body shifted, as if someone had opened a path in the whirlpool, directing a current down a new path.
The motion sped up and I was no longer in the gentle drift of ocean waves.
This was a tempest that buffeted me in all directions until I couldn’t tell which way was up.
The images flashed faster and faster, until I lost all sense of myself, watching someone else’s life flash before my eyes.
Everything was twisted, out of order. Two sets of memories, entwined.
A purple haze settled over me, and I felt a shifting, an ordering in my mind, as though someone was sorting through the images and shoving them onto shelves in a library.
They were no longer a jumble of memories, like someone had picked them up and thrown them into the wind to settle where they would.
Now they were in order, with a definite line down the middle separating me from her.
Lights flickered through my eyelids. Deep burgundy, darker than blood. Healing green. A constant gold, warming me from the inside out. Noises filtered in and out. Voices I thought I should recognize but couldn’t place. I couldn’t open my eyes or move my limbs.
A woman dressed in golden robes appeared. Her long, blonde hair was so pale it could have been spun from moonlight. And she had the most beautiful golden eyes, filled with eons of joy and sorrow. Looking at her felt like staring into the sun—beautiful, but almost too much to bear.
This could only be Solais, goddess of the soul.
Was I dead?
Her lips curved upward in a smile that didn’t reach her impossible eyes—eyes that pierced my soul. She opened her mouth to speak, but then his voice distracted me.
I turned blindly toward him, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Solais raise a hand in farewell.
I slowly came back to myself, pulled by something warm and golden pulsing in my chest. An invisible tether connected me to an outside source, reminding my heart to keep beating.
Gradually, sensations filtered in. The softness of the bed beneath me. The scent of healing herbs in the air. And most importantly, a warm hand clasping mine, our fingers threaded together. Someone was speaking in a low murmur, words I couldn’t quite hear, but the cadence was familiar. Comforting.
When I shifted, the murmuring stopped but the pressure on my hand increased, tightening almost painfully.
“Princess?” The voice was rough with exhaustion and hope.
“Griff,” I murmured, his name coming easier than my own. “You’re here?”
I felt his shaky exhale before he pressed a tender kiss to our joined hands. “Where else would I be?”
I turned my head and finally opened my eyes. His face filled my entire field of view, everything beyond him blurring into irrelevance. What I saw in his eyes made my heart stammer before it sped up again, the warmth in my chest pulsing.
Then it all came flooding back. The time travel. The kiss. Violet’s memories, now no longer tangled with my own. And underneath, a golden thread that hummed in harmony between us.
I flung myself forward at him. My body was weak, my muscles like jelly, barely able to control their motions.
He caught me before I hurt myself. “Easy there.” His warm arms came around me and he held me tenderly, rubbing circles on my back. I rested my head against his chest and breathed in his calming scent.
Safe. I was safe.
I pulled back to look at him and noticed the dark circles under his eyes. My thumb came up to gently trace them. “Are you alright? Have you not been sleeping?”
He let out a rough laugh, quietly, but without humor. “Are you seriously asking if I’m alright?”
I nodded, confused by the disbelief in his voice.
His arms tightened and he lowered my head back to his chest. One hand came up to clasp the back of my skull, holding me like I might disappear if he loosened his grip.
“I thought I’d lost you. Again. When you collapsed…
for a moment, your heart…” There was a shakiness to his voice that he tried to mask as he shifted me higher against his chest.
He brushed kisses through my hair as I relaxed into him, resting my head against his heartbeat, and feeling that warmth flow between us, internally bathing us in its soft golden light.
Twisting my head slightly, I finally took in my surroundings.
Unsurprisingly, I was in the healing wing.
What did surprise me was Finn slumped in a chair, his head tilted at an angle that would leave his neck hurting in the morning.
Freya was curled up next to him in another chair, snoring lightly.
I was torn between being deeply touched by their loyalty and wishing they were far away so I could have Griff all to myself. But for now, they were asleep and I could just be in his arms.
His thoughts were along the same lines as mine. “I hate to say it,” he murmured, brushing his mouth over my hair, my cheek, my lips, “but we should probably let them and Andrei know you’re awake.”
I held on to him a little tighter, feeling those broad muscles of his back ripple under my fingertips. “Can we wait?”
I heard the smile in his response as he stroked a hand down my hair, sending shivers through me. “Of course, Princess. We have time.”
I lost the fight about returning to my room.
Andrei insisted I stay in the healing wing for another night—for observation, he said.
To make sure I didn’t relapse into stasis—deep, magical sleep akin to a coma usually caused by catastrophic depletion of channels.
Or in my case, caused by traveling through time and Violet’s memories being imposed on mine.
It was the body’s way of protecting itself and allowing the channels to refill from their dangerously low levels.
No amount of arguing would make Andrei budge. He had already shooed Freya and Finn out, before turning to Griff with poorly concealed amusement. “Perhaps you should give her some time to rest.”
Before he finished the words, my hand shot out, grabbing hold of Griff’s shirt, lest he try to leave.
“Make me,” was Griff’s only response, the steel evident in his mild tone.
Andrei simply shook his head at the murderous expression Griff leveled at him and slowly backed out of the room.
Finally, we were alone.
Without waiting for permission, he climbed into the narrow bed, possessively tucking me against him.
I rested my head on his chest, his strong heartbeat thumping under my cheek.
His hand floated over my hair, gently stroking.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings.
I tilted my head up to find his eyes already focused on my lips with an intensity that made my breath catch and my pulse quicken.
For a moment, I thought he might kiss me properly, the way he had in the cave, desperate and consuming.
Instead, he dropped the gentlest of kisses on my lips, before shifting me more comfortably against his chest. Griff knew before I did that anything more would have to wait.
That despite the want between us that blazed as an inferno, I was too emotionally raw, too exhausted to do anything but cuddle.
As we lay there, side by side, his mask, that carefully controlled expression he wore like armor, was nowhere to be found. My heart soared at what I saw written in the hazel depths. His pulse quickened beneath my palm as he recognized the same.
No walls. No pretense. Just us.
And then I broke.
Every emotion I had felt during the past few days crashed over me.
Just as I had with every nightmare, I clung to his strong arms. But this wasn’t waking from a nightmare.
It was coming back from nightmares and dreams given form.
The time with my parents had been a gift, one I almost wished I hadn’t received.
The trunk I had locked everything in ruptured, and a flood surged through me, desperate for release.
I tried to keep it in, tried to be strong, but as the tears poured out of me, I realized I never needed to with him.
Here in his arms, I could simply feel. He would give me whatever I needed.
No judgment. Nothing but a shoulder to cry on.
Warm arms to hold me. Someone to catch every piece of me as I fell apart.
And fall apart I did.
Each sob that burst forth carried a different grief. For the family I’d never known. For the aunt who’d died to save everyone, resigned to her fate. For the terrible weight of knowing so many lives depended on my choices.
Through it all, he simply held me. That golden place next to my channels pulsed with comfort, as steady as a heartbeat. Here, in this small bed, connected to him by something deeper than touch, I finally understood what it meant to not be alone.