33. Freefall
Freefall
I n the absence of wind, the rapid, ragged sound of my own breath ripped through my ears.
Trygg looked down at where I clung to him like a drowning cat.
I felt his smile against my temple, and his breath stirred the errant hairs that had escaped from the small, tight braids running along the sides of my head.
“Like I said”—he released my legs from his grasp and my feet smacked painfully against the ground—“not going to drop you.”
I glanced up at him, pulling my hands back into my chest to conceal their shaking. What I’d done… I’m going to be sick .
He was staring at me in barely concealed amusement, which only intensified discomfort. Turning on my heel, I drew in another ragged breath to stamp down the shakiness that was too close to shame for my liking.
Too many thoughts, too many feelings, battling for dominance in a space that was altogether too small to contain them. It was like being ripped apart at the seams, with only the Shadow’s constant presence to hold the warring pieces of me together.
You need rest, she said softly, feathering against my rampaging thoughts.
There’s no time for rest .
Aiming for the rock and shell path, I set off toward the atrium, neglecting to wait for Trygg to follow.
If the horror lurking at the back of my mind wasn’t enough to propel me forward, the biting cold against my skin certainly was.
The crunching path sliced into my bare feet, and I stifled a curse.
“Asvoria, wait!” Trygg called. I heard him follow, not bothering to quiet his own curse when his feet met with the icy gravel.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw him hop into the brushy bed beside the path.
The Shadow made mention of the strange name he’d called me a moment ago, and now here he was, acting far too familiar after we’d broken a cardinal rule of my position.
A raw sort of discomfort rose up in me, striking out as it searched for release.
“We’re well enough acquainted that you call me by my first name now?” I spat. Blessedly, the atrium doors appeared around the next curve in the path. I hurried along, ignoring the stinging numbness spreading across the soles of my feet and toes.
“Gods-dammit,” Trygg muttered darkly, kicking through a row of hedges and stumbling up against the building as I yanked open the doors. I ignored him, hurrying into the close air of the atrium.
Despite the chill, rivers of sweat ran down my back, pooling uncomfortably in the soft folds of skin beneath my corset. My hands shook as the Shadow tried her best to calm me down. I could barely grip the handles on the second set of doors.
“Wait a moment,” Trygg panted, the tips of his wings knocking against a few clay pots.
I strode into the corridor, practically running as the door to my chambers loomed at the end of it.
Trygg was right behind me, muttering a string of curses as his wings scraped along the walls.
The dragging of those hard spines against the stone pierced my ears painfully.
Gods, I had to get away from that horrible noise.
He fell back as I came to my door, shoving it open with my shoulder and tumbling into the warm chambers beyond.
I staggered to a stop at the edge of my bed and gripped the rounded post like a lifeline, nails digging into the wood.
Hot, silent tears streamed down my face, though I couldn’t recall when they’d started.
Only in the pressing warmth of my room was my mind quiet enough to acknowledge the shuddering of my shoulders and the salty taste on my lips.
“My lady, please,” Trygg said between sharp breaths, coming into the room and closing the door. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, seeing his wings gone. “Just talk to m?—”
“And say what?” I gritted out, my teeth clenching painfully. At least the pain was something . Better than the empty pit widening in my chest, threatening to swallow me up.
Ever since I was a child, this same sort of frozen numbness had been my response to every bit of conflict, no matter how small or insignificant.
Spiraling panic sent me down into its depths, where I could neither feel nor think clearly.
Perhaps it was some kind of subconscious self-preservation technique—if I didn’t feel anything then nothing could hurt me.
But I hated that hollow silence more than anything.
“You’re still in shock.” He crept closer. “Take a few deep breaths.”
“I’m fine!” I spat, ducking my head and closing my eyes.
The Shadow brushed up against me. You’re not, young one.
“Leave me alone.” The words spilled from my mouth on a ragged whisper, aimed at them both. In my chest, the darkthread quivered wildly, heedless of any rhythm.
Trygg pressed on, his own anxiety infecting my mind. “Was that your first kill? You can talk to me—I understand.”
I whirled on him. “It was not my first kill, Talon.” He stood a foot or so away, hands held up in a non-threatening gesture.
But his patronizing tone was enough to set my teeth on edge.
“In case you forgot,” I continued, my voice low, “ I was the one who destroyed most of the myrkva that attacked this city mere days ago.”
“I have not forgotten the creatures under your command, no,” he said softly, taking a slow step forward. “But it is different, Asvoria, taking a life with your own hands.”
“Stop.” The word was little more than a growl, and he halted his steps. “You don’t know anything about me, or what I’m going through right now.”
“Don’t I?” His hands fell to his sides. “Can I not feel your panic thundering through my chest, just as you most certainly sense my concern?”
I sucked in a sharp breath and the Shadow pressed forward.
He advanced another few steps, until we were only a hand’s breadth apart.
And as his gaze softened, I felt it there, that concern.
Like a calming wave attempting to soothe the rabid beast in my mind.
I shuddered as his presence overtook me, brushing down the tattered edges of my control.
“I told you last night,” he said, quieter now, “I feel it too. And there’s no denying it after what happened in that library.”
“What is this?” I asked, swaying under the impact of his soothing presence. “Why can I sense your feelings as easily as my own? Why can I hear your thoughts in my head? And you, mine?”
His knuckles brushed lightly against my cheek, drawing another shudder out of me. “Something has bound us together, Vor,” he murmured. “Whether it be fate, or simply the magic of our world, I cannot say. But our souls are linked.”
“How long have you known?” The words tumbled out as I clutched at my shift. The Shadow watched, strangely quiet.
His jaw tightened and his brows furrowed, a small wince traveling over his face. “From the moment I laid eyes on you,” he admitted softly, “I felt your apprehension and fear as if they were my own.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, remembering how the darkthread reacted at the sight of him. Like his presence had awoken something deep inside me, beyond myself and beyond the Shadow.
“The connection has only grown stronger since then,” he continued.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
The smile that curled his mouth was somehow sad. “You didn’t trust me— still don’t. Not fully, anyways. I doubt admitting I could feel every shift in your thoughts and emotions would’ve helped you soften toward me.”
Something like shame pricked at my heart. He was right. Without feeling the bond between us myself, I wouldn’t have believed him.
“ Every shift?” I questioned, drawing a wider grin out of him.
“Perhaps not every one, but you have a habit of letting your emotions run away with you, my lady.” His eyes traveled over my face, the crackling of the hearth the only sound to penetrate the tense silence.
“And now?”
Trygg tilted his head, reaching up to stroke a curling lock of my hair. “Now?”
“Are my emotions running away with me?” I clarified.
He leveled a serious look, gray eyes darkening. “Your panic was threatening to consume you, which made it very difficult for me to do my job.”
“Your job…”
“Protecting you,” he said earnestly, a hand coming to rest at the back of my elbow. “That includes protecting you from yourself.”
The gaping maw of that pit in my chest widened a fraction, as if in answer to his proclamation.
He is right, the Shadow said softly, her presence flickering like a flame in the wind. You’ve seen what happens when you succumb to your panic, Asvoria.
The faces of the decaying draugr —their red eyes and senseless instinct to kill—came unbidden to my memory. If not for Trygg, so many more people might have died that night. Because I couldn’t maintain my control...
“Let me help you,” Trygg continued, his voice a rumble of dark energy that coursed through me.
My eyes shuttered closed at the sensation—his essence seeping into my consciousness.
The Shadow retreated far into her corner.
Whether from the imposing weight of his presence or the wish to remain hidden, I wasn’t sure.
She faded into nothingness without a word, though I knew she would be there again in an instant if I called.
What do you need? Trygg asked, the words floating gently down the bond between us. The bond that had indeed grown stronger since fully manifesting the night before.
I opened my eyes as he placed his hands on either side of my face. And even if it wasn’t pulsing through my veins, chasing away the freezing numbness chilling my bones, I would have seen the yearning in his eyes—yearning to help fix the shattered pieces of my heart.
I’m losing control, I admitted. It was useless to lie to him when he probably sensed every thought tumbling through my head. Everything has changed, and I’ve had little say in the matter. Even in this.
I grasped at that invisible line, tugging on it gently. The husky noise that fell from his lips in response sent a shot of warmth down my spine.