I wanted to stay like that all day. Lying there, with him inside. I would have stayed like that forever if he’d let me.
But as soon as he could, he pulled out. With a flat voice that belied the hate and sorrow beneath, he said, “I must return to Sceadulyr today.”
“No,” I whispered, rolling towards him. “Why?”
He caressed my face tenderly, his expression grim.
“It was the deal I made to save your life. I cannot go back on it now.”
“Don’t go,” I begged, my eyes filling with tears yet again. The starburn had completely fucked my hormones, and I couldn’t control my extreme swings of emotion.
“I must, beloved,” he groaned. “He has made it enormously clear that what he has done for you he will undo if I do not hold up my end of things.”
“But he doesn’t have a star map! He can’t reach us here!”
“He will find a way,” Wylfrael said venomously. “His cleverness is only outweighed by his vengefulness. I have no doubt he’d make both of us pay dearly for abandoning him in the Shadowlands.” His fingers on my jaw hardened. “I absolutely refuse to do anything that puts your life in danger, Torrance.”
I didn’t say anything, just looked at him, my beautiful, agonized husband, my mortal husband. I placed a clammy hand over top of his, nudging my face harder into his touch.
“Alright,” I murmured thickly. It wasn’t just my life in danger, now. If I died, he’d die too. I doubted he was even thinking or caring about his own fate, solely focused on me, but I cared.
“I will return as soon and as often as I can,” he promised, regret clear in his voice. “Aiko and the others will take care of you in my absence.”
But they won’t love me. Not like you.
I kept the words inside, not wanting to add to his pain as he washed and dressed and prepared to leave again.
And when he actually did leave, I knew the stabbing in my chest had nothing to do with my scars.
ONE MONTH BECAME TWO, then three, then four. Eventually, my starburn faded, replaced with a connection to Wylfrael stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. Wylf spent most of his time with Sceadulyr, but as promised, he returned whenever he was able. He brought gifts from other worlds he’d escorted the Shadowlands god to – clothing and gems and spices. He brought me gorgeously scented oils that he massaged into my legs and feet before tenderly sliding his knot into the place I needed it most. He gave me exotic food, too, and when he insisted on feeding it to me, despite my growing strength, he’d inevitably murmur something about husbands and bonbons while dropping sweets between my lips.
During my recovery, I spent a lot of time learning about the Sionnachan writing system and knew enough to make some of the simpler stitches, but when I mentioned in passing to Wylf that I’d like more human-style writing and drawing tools, he brought that back next. They weren’t pens, but paintbrushes, the handles jet black, the bristles red. “From Maerwynne’s world,” he’d told me, handing them to me and then bringing me Sionnachan ink and small squares of silk stretched over frames to draw and write on.
I wasn’t much of an artist. Never had been. But I couldn’t read Sionnachan well enough to spend much time reading, and the effort of reading the alien language made my head hurt after a while. My recovery was going well, all things considered, but my energy was still depleted easily, and I had to rest a lot more than I would have liked. So, I used the paintbrushes. I wrote journal entries in a messy, ink-smeared script, and doodled, drawing flowers and planets and stars. I painted things from my past, too. Blue skies and white clouds. Leafy trees. Maps of Earth. My father’s house.
Winter turned to spring, and by that time I was strong enough to venture downstairs and outside with Aiko or Shoshen’s help. Sionnach was beautiful in winter, and it was glorious in spring. There was no grass, but instead thick spongey plant life that reminded me of clover, the leaves and stems violet, the flowers pink and white. Larger plants grew – bushes with crystal leaves and flowers with crystal petals. I asked Aiko where she got the herbs and fruits for cooking, and she’d shown me that the odd, shining plants had seeds inside gem-like pods with crystal walls so thick they shattered when they hit the ground, dispersing the seeds and stems that were also used for cooking. Small fruits also grew that way, like peas in a pod, and larger fruits as big as melons swelled in hard shells.
Near the castle was a small lake I hadn’t even known was there before. It was so strange seeing water that wasn’t blue but instead a deep, clear pink. I often spent time there during the day, breathing in the cool, clean air while Brekken ran laps around me, wondering if the water would be warm enough for swimming in the summer. I thought, by then, I’d be strong enough for that kind of physical activity. Especially if Wylfrael helped. I sat on the shore, chin on my knees, picturing the two of us in the water, him holding me, helping me drift through the gently lapping waves. Both of us happy. Both of us free.
I wondered if we’d ever get there. If we’d ever just be able to live a somewhat normal life, a life that wasn’t burdened by bargains and duty and distance.
I didn’t know the answer.
But I watched the waves, and painted, and healed.
And I hoped.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE Wylfrael
Two things kept me from going entirely insane while away from Torrance. The first was the fact that I could have short visits with her on Sionnach. The second was that Sceadulyr actually seemed to be sincerely searching for his mate. If he’d simply been toying with me, keeping me away from Torrance just to torture me, I was not sure I would have been able to stand it. But beneath his sarcasm and blustering, I could tell his desire to find her was going stronger with every sky door I opened.
I did not know if he cared about finding a mate to love or if he just wanted to restore his star map, but I did not really care. As long as he was not purposely slowing down or impeding our purpose, I could grind my fangs and force myself to continue.
We found the humans quite by accident, after five of what Torrance called “months” of travelling with Sceadulyr. It was a world neither he nor I had ever been to, and, besides the humans’ machine (which I instantly recognized as being the ship I’d seen on my world) there seemed to be no other sentient life here. It was a grey planet of cold mountains and jagged valleys, cold and barren. We did not spend long flying over the surface and were going to leave when the shining metal of the human machine caught my eye. As soon as I saw it, my rage came flaring back. Rage like I’d felt when I’d found them on Sionnach, but a thousand times worse. Because now, I knew what they’d done to Torrance. Now, I knew that they’d not only invaded my world, but also abducted and forced my mate into servitude, along with all her friends.
“You look like you’ve swallowed a poisoned sword, Wylfrael,” Sceadulyr called as he followed me in descent towards the humans’ machine.
Sword. I couldn’t even say the word now. I no longer carried a blade, and I’d left my father’s bloodstained sword on Sceadulyr’s world. I had no idea what had happened to it and never cared to find out.