17. A Heart Still Beating #3
The first thing I noticed about the next vision was that I could hear it this time. And the woman’s voice, when it came, was the one that had called me from my bed.
It was wrecked with emotion, and it tore into me as she faced Hyperion, his face gone pale, his eyes wide.
“I’m so sorry, Hyperion. I know this will ruin you. A bastard for a child, and born of a servant, no less. What are we going to do?” She sobbed into her hands in the middle of the room, and every part of me ached to cross the space. To put my arms around her and tell her it would be all right.
His lip trembled, and he rushed to her, taking her tear-soaked hands in his.
“Melanthe, you must be quiet. Someone will hear.” He drew her head to his chest, stroking her hair, pale gold and falling in loose waves down her back.
“Hush, now. This stress is not good for the babe. We will find a way, do you hear me? Don’t you fret over any of it.
” His face was a portrait of devotion as he held her, pressing her hands to his chest. “Everything will be well.”
Her sobs slowly quieted, until there was only the catch of her breath and the soft sound of his hand moving over her hair. Then she drew back, wiping her cheeks.
“There’s something else,” she said, cradling the small swell of her belly in both hands.
His eyes dropped to it. “What is it? Is something wrong with the child?” He laid a hand against the bump, concern carving his brow.
“Not exactly.”
“Thank the heavens. What is it, then?” He bent to press a kiss to the swell, then drew back to look her in the eyes.
She took a shuddering breath and stepped away from him. “Your child may possess… powers.”
Hyperion’s brow furrowed. “Of course the child will have powers. You know well enough what runs in my blood.”
But she was already shaking her head.
“No. I mean the powers of a… a witch.”
She bit her lip and looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes, and I watched every muscle in his body go taut and wrong. His eyes darkened. His teeth bared.
“You.” He levelled an accusing finger at her. “You’re a witch? You’re a witch.” His chest heaved as he prowled the small room, throwing his arms wide as though arguing with some voice only he could hear.
And then Melanthe did the only thing she knew how to do.
She tried to calm him.
I felt it the very same moment he did, a soft, desperate ripple of power unraveling from her and reaching across the room to wrap around all that wild, spiraling panic to ease it.
It was instinct, I think. Love, even. A terrified woman reaching for the only tool she had to keep the man she loved from coming apart in front of her, and there was no malice in it.
None at all. I would have staked my life on it, because I could feel it as surely as I felt my own heart pounding.
But he felt it land.
I watched the unnatural ease begin to smooth over him, slowing the frantic heave of his chest. And I watched the exact instant he understood what it was. What she was doing to him. And, far worse, what she had almost certainly done before, perhaps even from the very beginning.
He snapped his head up, terrifying eyes boring into her.
“You’re doing it now,” he breathed. “Reaching inside me. Smoothing me over like a frightened horse.” His voice cracked and climbed. “How many times, Melanthe? How many times have you done this to me and let me call it love?”
“Hyperion, please…” She let the power go at once, but the damage was already done. “I only meant to calm you. I would never…”
“You already have.” And there it was. Cold and damning certainty settled over his face as he stared at her as though a stranger had crawled inside the skin of the woman he’d loved.
“It was never real. None of it. I never chose you at all. You reached into me, and you made me in whatever image you wanted… didn’t you?”
She cried at that, lowering her head as the tears fell before finally admitting, “I just wanted you to see me, as I have seen you. Love me as I have always loved you.”
The pained admission sealed her fate, I knew that the second he moved.
I flinched back as he rounded on her without warning, driving her toward the wall until she had nowhere left to go.
She lifted a hand to shield her face, eyes flinching shut, and I watched in horror as he raised his own hand, and could do nothing.
Nothing at all, because this was only a vision, and the worst of it had happened long ago.
His hand flew. But it did not strike her face.
It closed around her throat instead and lifted her clean off her feet.
Her hands flew up, clawing at his wrist as she fought for air.
“You put a spell on me!” he spat, while she shook her head frantically. “To make me love you. It is the only reason in all the realms I could ever have fallen for a filthy little servant witch like you!”
Blood welled where her nails tore at his skin, but he didn’t stop.
“I will have no part in this. That thing, that monster you carry, is no blood of mine!” He lowered his lips to her ear, and through his teeth he hissed, “Leave my kingdom. And never return. Because if you do…”
“I will kill you myself!”