The witches' kingdom - TOG series

Chapter 4 | Manon

It had been good, stepping away from being myself for a few days and allowing Dorian to take care of me. My mind had been racing, but when he was around, I could almost stop feeling guilty and lost.

During the first few hours with him, I had been thinking more about them, wherever they were, than about the room itself. I didn't realize it, but even when he forced me to bathe, he had to wash my hair himself because I couldn't react.

Later on, having him close made me force myself to be present with him. Sometimes I even doubted if this was real. I had been so convinced that I would never see him again, that he would never be able to return from Morath, and that he certainly wouldn't survive the destruction of the keys. His mere presence was like a daydream, and it made me question if all of this was actually happening. Then their voice came to my head, "live, Manon," and I thought that I should do it. I pushed away anger, guilt from my mind, and the responsibility, and I allowed myself to just... be, with him.

It felt like living in a temporal parenthesis, trapped in that room, forced to sleep and feed, but damn, I had managed it. I felt awake again. When he brought dinner to the room, I was lost in thought, planning how we would start rebuilding the witch kingdom. It would be incredible to have a witch school to teach the new generations and many of the Crochans how to defend themselves and be the embodiment of death, as I had been. Of course, if Yrene could build her tower for healers, couldn't I do the same? I still didn't know the person who had saved us all from what could have been centuries of slavery, but Dorian had told me about her and Chaol, and their future baby.

Then Dorian opened the door wide, hands-free, with the little magic he had left, carrying a tray of food and a bottle of wine. For the first time, I noticed the tiredness in his face. He had barely slept either, and I couldn't even imagine how worn out he must have felt from using so much magic. I felt responsible for him having to take care of me when I was more than capable of taking care of myself. But part of me felt guilty for not being there for him, as he was for me. God, where were all these thoughts coming from? I hadn't felt guilty for even a single day in almost 200 years, and suddenly, all I felt was compassion and the need to do what was right.

He sat by my bedside, and as Dorian usually did, I started to feel better again. I didn't know how someone so different from me could understand me better than people I shared everything with. Even though he didn't speak much, it seemed like Dorian had no secrets from me, and it frustrated me that he could read me so easily, and worse, that he enjoyed doing it and was always there.

Having not eaten a bite in so many days, my stomach seemed to wake up all of a sudden, and at four in the morning, there was nothing else in the world I could think about except... cheese.

I tried to move, but Dorian had me literally trapped in his arms. It seemed like he was finally sleeping peacefully, and although part of me wanted to wake him up, I managed to slip away from him to go down to the kitchen in search of leftovers.

Everything seemed quite calm, and the survivors were asleep in the pavilions. Since the war ended, I hadn't left the room, and therefore, I didn't want to see anyone except Petra and Glennis. Glennis had been understanding and willing to help me not feel like a ghost, but I hadn't let her. So for about a day and a half, I had been enduring being near Dorian alone.

I was about to put on my riding suit to leave the room, but it was still stained with blood and reeked of death. I couldn't even look at it. Instead, I opted for an oversized shirt that must have belonged to god knows who, and I threw Dorian's cloak on top. I forgot to put on shoes and silently cursed when I touched the stone floor outside the room. We were in Terrassen, and it was a terrible idea to forget about the freezing weather outside. The room was constantly warmed by Dorian's magic, as if we had at least four fireplaces burning.

There was barely any light, just the faint glow seeping through some windows until I stumbled upon the kitchens. I thought I saw a white shadow flicker down one of the corridors, but I was so hungry that I didn't think twice and just prayed that no one was around to witness me in such attire. A couple of hallways later, I found myself in the kitchen, and a gleaming piece of cheese was waiting for me on one of the tables amidst the clean dishes.

I didn't hesitate for a second and lunged for it when suddenly, once again, a white shadow passed by my feet. I jumped, nearly losing my balance. Not because I wasn't quick, but because I certainly didn't expect anything else in the kitchens with me. As I turned around, I discovered a giant white wolf. I almost screamed in fright, but instead, my natural reflexes made me assume an attack stance, and my nails and teeth came out. Sometimes, it was such a natural act that I wasn't even aware of my own reactions.

I stared at the gigantic animal, waiting for it to attack, but instead, right in front of me, a nearly two-meter tall half-naked Fae appeared. That didn't make me retract my stance or my nails, as I had no idea who this person was, and I certainly wasn't accustomed to seeing animals shift forms.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded.

"Don't you remember me?" Fenrys replied.

"Should I?"

"I was hoping my appearance would be more striking, but apparently not. Although, of course, the last time we saw each other, you were captive, half-dead, and, from what I recall, quite entertained by a certain prince."

"Are you one of Rowan's friends?"

"Fenrys, to be more precise."

"Well, Fenrys, I hope you didn't come for the cheese because this piece is mine."

"I would love to devour it, but I would never dare to challenge a 200-year-old witch, barefoot and wearing a cloak that obviously isn't hers, in the middle of the night."

"A very wise reflection, Fenrys," I said, looking back at the cheese and retracting my nails and teeth. "And I don't usually dress like this, I'm just hungry."

"Fair enough. I usually dress more appropriately, in case you were wondering," he chuckled, "and I'm hungry too."

Under any other circumstances, I might have been less amiable, but there was something in the Fae's face that reminded me of how I felt. So, knowing that my portion of cheese was secured, I sat on the table and began devouring my second dinner.

He seemed to understand the same thing, and took a plate of potatoes and some bread and sat down next to me. He didn't speak, he didn't congratulate me on the wonderful intervention in the war, as anyone who had come across me did, and most importantly, he didn't mention the 13, or what they had done. That was good enough for me. I didn't say anything to him either, he looked like he had lost a lot, and if he was the person I had heard was with Aelin, I figured he wouldn't want to talk too much either.