Solace

by Bethany Adams

  “Because you’re far too perceptive of my moods.” Lynia straightened, dropping her arms to her sides. “If I sleep longer than I intend, promise you’ll wake me before you and Meli search for the assassin.”

  He pushed back from his desk. “Laiala—”

  “No shielding me.” She closed the distance between them. “I’m not asking to go with you. I’m no warrior. But I was asleep when your father was murdered, and the pain of waking to that… Promise me, or I won’t be able to rest at all.”

  Lyr’s expression softened, and he stood, pulling her close for a hug. “You have my word we won’t begin without telling you. We’re intending to wait until the twenty-seventh mark at the earliest. You’ll have ten marks to eat and rest—and we’ll do the same.”

  Relief had her lowering her forehead to her son’s shoulder for a moment before she drew away. “Why so long?”

  “The answer will not bring you ease.” At the arch of her brow, he sighed. “I want to give Lial plenty of time to return, and I suspect he’ll need his own rest, besides. I doubt he’ll restrain himself while helping Naomh, no matter the situation here. It isn’t in him to give up.”

  Lynia tried to hide how right Lyr was about the unhappiness the news brought, but the twist of her son’s lips showed that she’d failed. This time, she was the one heaving a sigh. “I’d say he’s been known to give up a time or two.”

  Lyr didn’t pretend not to understand. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “I wish I knew,” she confessed.

  “That’s a different answer than you would have given a few days before.”

  “Yes.” Lynia pressed her palm to the bridge of her nose. “My thoughts are a mess.”

  Finally, Lyr gave her a soft smile, one of understanding. “I remember that state all too well. Maybe rest will help? Exhausting yourself will not bring clarity.”

  She shook her head. “Now who sounds like the parent?”

  “I gained such knowledge from you,” Lyr said, patting her shoulder. “So you’re truly listening to yourself.”

  “Indeed?” With a laugh, Lynia spun away and rounded the desk. “Then I suppose I’d better listen. Please give my regards to the others at dinner.”

  Despite the initial seriousness of their conversation, Lynia found her heart a little lighter as she made her way to her room. She downed a quick meal from the tray one of their helpers had left in her room and changed into a sleeping dress before collapsing into bed. If she kept her thoughts away from all that worried her, she might even manage to sleep.

  Chapter 16

  A light flickered in the darkness.

  Lynia ran toward it, something inside her longing for that bright spark. She could see nothing else. She didn’t want to. Soon, it was a towering plume of gold, so close she could almost touch. But when it resolved into the figure of a man, she skidded to a halt. This could be dangerous. It could—

  She gasped when the figure turned.

  Telien.

  The area brightened until she could see the gray fog drifting between them. Around them. Through him. Her chest closed in until she could barely breathe, and a strangled moan slipped through her lips. What was going on?

  His beloved face was twisted into a pained frown. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I…” Her body went cold. “What am I doing?”

  “You keep me bound.”

  He held out his hands, and she saw the twist of spectral rope holding his wrists together. Confused, she shook her head. “I haven’t done this. Our bond was love, not restriction. And you’re…you’re gone. From my world, at least.”

  “It is not love that keeps me.” Telien lowered his arms. “Love frees.”

  Lynia pressed her palms against her sternum in a vain attempt to calm her frantic heart. “I’ve heard bound souls never fully part. Even in death. I don’t know what to do.”

  She blinked, and Telien’s form was a step closer. He looked just as she remembered, from the echo of his long brown hair dancing around the ghostly outline of his favorite tunic to the intensity of his blue-green eyes. But rarely had he been so stern, at least in her presence.

  “Our souls may always hold remnants of the other’s, but we are not one person. We are two.” His expression softened. “I will always love you, my Lynia, but I cannot move on while you bind yourself in such pain. In truth, you hold us both. Let go. It is time.”

  She lifted a hand, but she was too afraid to make contact lest he disappear. “It does not feel right to find happiness without you.”

  “I do not want a sad half life for you,” Telien said. “Is that what you want for me?”

  His light grew closer, so bright she had to close her eyes. She felt the barest brush of warmth against her forehead, and a sob caught in her throat as his essence surrounded her. But it was only for a moment.

  His voice whispered around her. “I want your joy.”

  Lynia reached out again, but he was gone.

  With a cry, Lynia jerked upright. Darkness surrounded her, but it wasn’t the same. Dim moonlight trickled through the window, casting a silver glow through the gloom. No bright tower of light. No Telien. Her breath hitched, and pain stabbed through her stomach, worse than the knife wound Norin had inflicted before the fall.

  So much worse.

  Lynia pulled her knees up and curled her arms around them, burying her face in the darkened vee. Had her dream held truth? Could that have actually been Telien? She’d never dreamed of him so clearly before, not like that.

  And he’d been angry at her.

  Tears trickled down her face to land with a plop against her legs. Surely, it was her imagination. Please, Bera, let it be my imagination. But if the goddess had an answer for her grief, Lynia couldn’t hear it. Like so many of the years after Telien’s death, there was nothing but cold silence.

  She could ask Eradisel, but She was the sacred tree of Dorenal, Goddess of portals and the Veil, not of the afterlife. If he had been stuck in the mists of the Veil— Lynia straightened as the memory of her dream rolled through her mind. They’d been surrounded in fog. Could there be a connection?

  Resolved, Lynia stood and darted toward the door.

  Eradisel would know.

  Though his head spun with exhaustion, Lial checked Caolte as thoroughly as he’d examined Naomh. A feat that had taken no small amount of time in the convincing. If he’d been less tired, he might have been insulted by Caolte’s doubts, but he merely insisted the other man cooperate if he wished for healing aid in the future. He had to ensure that the illness hadn’t spread.

  Not that he didn’t understand Caolte’s reticence—especially after the examination. The half-Seelie-half-Unseelie man had…interesting blood. Powerful, with a hint of something ancient that Lial hadn’t encountered in all of his studies. But like so much else in this place, it was a mystery for another day.

  Fortunately, Lial detected no sign of the infection in Caolte or anyone else in the house. There were apparently others who lived in the surrounding forest, but after considering the problem, Lial decided to check them on his next visit. As well as Naomh was guarded, if Caolte didn’t have the illness, it was unlikely any of the others would. It was a risk, but as low on energy as Lial was, it was one he would have to take.

  By the time he stepped through the portal into the Veil and halted just on the edge, the ache in his body was bone-deep. But even now, he wasn’t finished. Before Kai returned to guide him back, Lial needed to scan himself. He’d considered doing so before crossing through the portal, but he wanted no risk of the results being muddled.

  Not to mention his lack of energy.

  The Veil wasn’t the best place for him to draw in more. Since he didn’t have the gift of the guide, the power here largely ignored his call, but it was better than the questionable flow of power in Naomh’s realm. Thankfully, Lial was able to glean enough magic from the swirling mists to scan himself without falling on his face. Only when he was certain
he’d carried no hint of sickness did he breathe a sigh of relief.

  Gods help him if Lyr didn’t give him time for a little sleep.

  Lynia padded down the stairs and headed straight toward the wall-sized tree trunk on the far side of the entryway. She ignored the guards standing beside the empty stone arch of the transportation gate, though they had to think her wild appearance was odd. She never descended in her sleeping gown, much less with her hair a tangled mess.

  They would just have to wonder.

  Once she reached the sacred tree, Lynia slipped into the narrow room built around the trunk, creating a sort of hallway encircling the tree. Peace surrounded her, a gift from Eradisel, but Lynia didn’t stop to commune with the tree. Not here. She waited until she’d reached the altar on the far side, where she lowered to her knees and lit the soft gray mage globes.

  Lynia sat back on her heels, closed her eyes, and extended her hand. Then she took a deep breath and settled her palm against the smooth bark. Instantly, Eradisel wrapped around her, the tree’s consciousness connecting with Lynia’s thoughts.

  The tree couldn’t speak as such, but the images She sent somehow resolved into words. “You are distressed.”

  “I dreamed of Telien.”

  A pause. “Show me.”

  Lynia did her best to replay the dream as it had happened, although the memory was already beginning to fade. A new grief, that. Another loss among many.

  “I must know if it was him,” Lynia said when she was through. “It looked like the Veil. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?”

  “Telien has not passed through the Veil,” Eradisel answered. “Not tonight or any other since his death.”

  Lynia’s head lowered until her chin nearly touched her chest. “Can you sense Bera’s realm? Perhaps I shouldn’t ask, but I… I need to know if it was real. I need to know if he hates me.”

  “I do not sense hate in your dream memory.”

  It wasn’t a full answer, but Lynia suspected it was the best she would receive from the sacred tree. It wasn’t for her to know what Eradisel could see. “He said I bound him here when he wanted to leave. If love frees, then why wouldn’t he have moved on?”

  “More hopes pass through my realm than you can fathom.” Warmth brushed across Lynia’s cheek. “But the holders can’t always see them.”

  It was an odd statement even without the visual that came with the word-thoughts, and Lynia only caught the barest peek of faceless people slipping through the mists of the Veil. Each one possessed hopes and dreams that they—and Lynia—couldn’t identify, but from the certain knowledge that coated Eradisel’s words, she could. The sacred tree discerned the essence of everything that entered her realm.

  Lynia gasped in awe at the hint of power, though the glimpse was gone in a heartbeat.

  But how was it related to her dream?

  “It does not matter if the dream was real,” Eradisel sent, answering the question Lynia hadn’t purposefully asked. “The core of the message rings true. Whether yours or his, the truth is. Do not deny this gift, though it be unasked for. Ask yourself instead if it is a hope unrealized.”

  What? She didn’t hope for Telien to be upset with her. It was the opposite.

  “I would never wish to cause him pain.”

  “Think on his words, and you will see,” Eradisel replied.

  Then the tree’s consciousness withdrew, leaving only a trace of her comforting energy to surround Lynia. But now, there was no peace. Not with that command still ringing through Lynia’s head. She dropped her hand to her lap and stared at the mage globe glowing softly on the altar. If only she could illuminate herself so neatly.

  Love frees.

  I cannot move on while you bind yourself in such pain.

  You hold us both.

  I do not want a sad half life for you.

  Is that what you want for me?

  I want your joy.

  Let go.

  Over and over, his words echoed through her mind until she bit back a sob. Was she keeping him from true peace with her mourning? But she couldn’t quite call it that now, could she? She wasn’t immobilized with grief. If she were honest, she wasn’t clinging to their love to the exclusion of all else, though their bond would always be with her.

  Love freed, but fear bound.

  Tears dropped onto her hands, and her shoulders shook. She was a liar. She wasn’t unable to love another—she was scared to. Afraid of not being good enough, a shell of her former self. Afraid of the pain of another loss. And afraid most of all of what would happen after her own death. Would Telien be waiting there, angry that she’d moved on with another?

  Gods, how foolish. Lynia didn’t know the nature of the afterlife, but she knew Telien. She could find him after a thousand other partners, and his love would remain the same. Even if she wed again. Even if she somehow managed to find a second soulbonded. He would welcome anyone she loved, because love freed.

  And she would do the same for him. If he were reborn into another life, she would pray it was a happy one. She would gladly accept anything that brought his spirit peace and joy, even if it wasn’t her.

  She had to let him go.

  Whether the dream had been her own creation or not, it was time. If there was the slightest chance her own fears kept him bound—them bound—she owed it to them both to release him into happiness. That was the heart of their love, and that could never be diminished.

  “I want your joy, too,” Lynia whispered.

  Then she lowered her forehead to the altar and sobbed.

  Lial had absorbed more energy once they’d emerged on Moranaia, but it had done little to ease his exhaustion. His reserves were too low to convert enough natural magic to resolve the worst of his energy drain. By the time he and Kai stepped through the front doors so Lial could report to Lyr, he more than welcomed the brush of magic from Eradisel.

  They’d only taken a couple of steps before the sound of harsh, muffled sobs reached his ears. Lial froze, Kai halting beside him, and scanned the area. Then he felt Lynia’s energy on the other side of the sacred tree, and his heart squeezed at the pain she emanated.

  “That sounds like—”

  Lial lifted a hand, silencing Kai’s words. “Tell Lyr what I told you. He’ll have to wait for an official report.”

  “But I should—”

  “Let me check on her,” Lial said softly.

  Kai studied him for a moment before nodding. “Fine. I’ll talk to Lyr.”

  Lial didn’t wait to see if the other man followed through. Instead, he rushed across the entryway and darted between the tree trunk and the wall. He barely noticed the tree that usually awed him—Lynia’s pain drew him like a starved cell needing nourishment. Though she might not let him comfort her, he couldn’t stop himself from trying.

  When he neared the altar, his heart shattered to see her bent over the stone, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. In that moment, it didn’t matter why she was upset or if he could solve the problem. He would not leave her in such pain alone.

  “Lynia,” he said as he dropped to his knees by her side.

  She straightened so abruptly she almost hit her head against his chin. Not that he would have cared if she had. He was too busy dying inside from the agony twisting her face. “Lial?”

  Without a word, he held out his arms, and she collapsed against him. Carefully, he sat down in the narrow space, leaning against the wall and gathering her trembling form into his lap. She nestled her face in the vee between his neck and shoulder, her quiet sobs soaking his tunic in moments.

  Lial lowered his forehead to settle against the top of her head and rubbed her back, letting her cry out her pain. She’d once done the same for him when he’d lived through Aris’s terrible memories, and she’d never asked why. He could do the same for her.

  Even if it took a lifetime.

  Chapter 17

  For the first time in ages, Lynia let someone else truly console her. Not that
her family hadn’t tried, but she’d kept this level of pain to herself, so close that none could touch it. Buried in the depths of her own heart. It helped that Lial didn’t ask why—he merely offered himself for whatever she might need.

  Perhaps it should have felt strange to be held by another man so soon after her dream of Telien, but it didn’t. It felt natural. Right. Her tears slowed as Lial’s warmth surrounded her, his hand never faltering in its soothing circles against her back. They could have done this before. A thousand times be—

  A memory solidified, one long-buried, and she shoved herself up enough to look into his eyes. “You comforted me like this after Telien died.”

  “When your bond was first broken, yes,” Lial answered softly. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

  “I hadn’t until now, at least not that you held me.” She shivered as she recalled the darkness she’d swam in then. More than once, she’d almost been lost to it. Lial had helped her through, whispering into her mind. Holding her much like this. “Did you… Did you have feelings for me then?”

  His lips curved upward, though his eyes were sad. “I’m not sure. I think my love was born in those dark days trying to keep you alive, but I didn’t realize it for years.”

  “An odd time to develop feelings. I was so shattered.”

  “It…” His voice trailed off. “I would prefer to speak of this when our privacy is guaranteed.”

  For the first time, Lynia realized how exposed they were. No one would intentionally disturb someone communing with Eradisel, but this spot was hardly sealed away from the world. She winced. No doubt the guards had heard her crying as Lial obviously had.

  “We can speak in my room,” she said. “Unless you need to get back to the healing tower, though privacy isn’t likely there.”

  Lial snorted. “Not with Maddy, Fen, and Anna taking turns watching Caeleth. I’ve been informed my patient is resting well, but I’m sure one of those three would find a way to bother us if we attempt discussion in my chamber.”