They say if you have a little faerie blood, you've been Touched. Some might have a Touch of water, a Touch of healing, or a Touch of animal speaking. Aoife, whose grandmother was a full-blooded fae and whose sisters were blessed with perfectly usefu...
When they finally made it to Tarran's room, there was already a fire in the hearth. It was warmer than the library, and the pleasant heat made her want to relax. She slipped off the heavy cloak she'd been wearing in the library, toed off her shoes, and walked towards her side of the massive canopy bed.
There was a line of pillows down the middle of Tarran's bed, dividing it exactly in two. It wasn't much, but it was enough that they wouldn't roll into each other in the middle of the night. Aoife still found it difficult to sleep without being in the same room as him, waking up nearly every hour to make sure he was still breathing. Even staying in the same room, she woke up frequently. The thought of waking only to find he'd succumbed to the curse was too much for her to bear.
"Do we have to put the pillows there?" Aoife grumbled, punching one of them lightly as she yanked the blankets over her legs. She could touch people now. Not only that, it was easier every day to remain calm, to let her magic know they weren't in danger, to work in tandem with the power to live a life that was good for her.
Tarran insisted on the pillows, though. He said it was safer for her to have a barrier.
"If you touch me in your sleep, I don't know how your magic might react without your consciousness to pull back. I won't risk it."
Considering he was letting her sleep in his room, she thought it best to let him win this debate. Aoife didn't mind the barrier so long as she could wake up and hear that he was still breathing, so long as she knew that if anything terrible happened, she was right beside him.
"Will you let me heal you a little before you sleep?" she asked softly, reaching her hand over the pillow barrier.
"... Will it help you sleep if you do?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation. Tarran reached out and grabbed her hand, and Aoife let her magic work.
It didn't work without touch, they'd discovered. While she could drain the life force from nearby living things without touching them, that had only happened when she was in emotional distress. She hadn't figured out how to intentionally use her magic on anything without making contact.
As soon as their hands touched, Aoife's magic sparked to life. It was like it recognized Tarran by now, knew that it was given momentary permission to hunt and feed on the darkness inside him. Life and death. Balance. Cycles. Forces eternally chasing each other round and round until the end of all things.
"That's enough," Tarran said, pulling his hand away. Aoife pouted, but she didn't try to reach for him again. The boundaries between them were delicate, especially with Tarran's future on the line. She wanted to respect his wishes, but refused to let him die.
At least this way she knew he would survive at least until morning, and that gave her the sense of comfort she needed to relax a little. It was only a stall mechanism, but it was better than nothing.
What she didn't tell him was that her power left her a little lightheaded each time, a little more tired each time. She wasn't sure if the curse was beating her back or if her magic insisted upon unfurling with more and more intensity every time she let it run loose, but she was starting to feel the impact.
Tarran said she'd been siphoning life force off of everything and everyone she touched for years, though. Surely she had more than enough stored up to spare. Surely it was just that the magic was overwhelming, that she was coming into her power, that it took time getting used to...
Surely.
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