I'm rescued from my nightmare when a flick on the nose wakes me. I open one eye and see Dathid's smug face resting on the pillow next to me. I rollover.
"Go away," I groan.
"I've been gone this entire time, and you can't even say hello?"
"Hello. Go away."
My brain replays images of the last time he came back to Cromsmead. I was thrilled he returned. It hurts remembering being happy. I shut those thoughts down and close my eyes. If I lie still for long enough, my body will go into a twilight haze. I won't dream, but I won't think either.
Dathid gets up from the bed and heads toward the door. I want to feel either happy or sad that he's leaving, but I feel nothing. The numb fog is already enveloping me. The covers are whisked from me with such force it creates a violent chilling wind. I would kick him, but that's the reaction he's looking for. Instead, I curl up in a ball to conserve heat.
He grabs my foot and sends me flying to the floor.
"Are you crazy?" I yell. "I'm injured, you moron! I've only just recovered. Are you trying to break me again?" I wave my freshly unbandaged hand up at him.
He squats down, so we're face-to-face. "Re-cov-ered," he says irritatingly slow.
I smack him across the face with my recovered hand. Fire burns in his eyes as he lunges for me. I scream and jump to my feet, but he tackles me. I roll over and punch him in the shoulder. I would've hit his jaw, but he deflected it. I kick him in the back and roll to my feet again. He grabs my ankle, and I face-plant into the rug.
Rage seethes up from the depths of my being. I slap him again, but it's not a well-coordinated, highly trained fighting move. It's a stupid childish whack to the shoulder. I cuff him with my other hand, and he grabs my wrist. I slap him and scream in his face. "This is your fault! I hate you! How could you let this happen? You're so stupid!"
I hit and scream until my voice cracks and my words fail. My hands are numb, and my arms hurt. He's not fighting back. He's letting me hit him; blame him.
I look into his sad eyes and burst into tears.
He pulls me into a strong embrace, and I sob so hard I don't produce tears. We sit on the floor, and he rocks me like a child and strokes my hair. I don't deserve this comfort. I didn't know how badly I needed it until Dathid gave it to me.
He consoles me well after my tears cease. "What am I going to do? How can I walk among these people that have been so kind to me? Trelix! What I did to Carfron. Lenox is missing." The tears start again.
He strokes my hair but doesn't answer.
I press against him, afraid to let him go. Afraid the darkness will come back. "I don't know how to go on. I don't know how to get over this. I can't even mourn them because I'm the one that killed them. Please, tell me how to make this right. How do I make it go away?"
When he doesn't answer, it's because he can't. He doesn't have an answer. I have a magic wand, but it won't turn back time.
I break our embrace and stand without looking at him. He wraps an arm around me and guides me to the sofa. I rest my head on his shoulder as he strokes my arm.
"Agatha, from what I was able to gather. Stratagor Ziras told you his side. He sounds like a charming enough man, so why wouldn't you give him the benefit of the doubt? That's all you did. You were not free to make any choices. Had you strayed from the route he set for you, he would've shot down your...he would have killed you."
"I didn't have to believe him."
"Agg, he told you the truth as he saw it. It's believable. Granted, he left out a lot of details. Frankly, I blame the council. They should've been more open and forthcoming with their knowledge. Had you been armed with many more facts, you would've not been so susceptible. But even so, you were taken prisoner by the Salt Demons and delivered to Stratagor Ziras by those stupid Chimnockies."
Dathid's jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath. "I'm the one who spoke on behalf of the Chimnockies. I led us to their camp. If anything, I'm the one to blame."
"Don't be stupid," I snort. "You had to take us to the Salt Mines. The plaque was there."
He's silent for a long time. He absently pulls me closer, seeking his own comfort. "I know," he sighs. "But the facts don't make me feel any better. I led my entire squadron to their death. I was their leader, and I'm the only one that survived. Worse, I survived because I ran away."
"You saved my life. I wouldn't have made it without you."
He shakes his head and studies the floor. "The truth is, there was no one left to lead. That second day was a blood bath. We had to get you out of there." He looks at me with sad, soulful eyes. "I thought Jonah was dead. I didn't know how to tell you."
Understanding rocks me to my core. He's suffering as much as I am. Jonah is, too. Is Trelix? Does Dathid relive those battles and wonder what he could've done differently? Does Jonah blame himself? Does Solara feel responsible for Trelix's injuries?
"How do you live with that?" It's a rhetorical question that I really want answered.
"I just do. I grieve them. I miss them. But I'm still alive, so it's my obligation to live."
I'm alive. Trelix said those words to me. "I guess I have to live then." I look pleadingly into his eyes. "How do I do that?"
"I don't know. But the first step is to stop hiding in this room."
I put my head back on his shoulder. I knew he was going to say that. I'm not ready yet, so I change the subject. I sit up and announce, "The plaque from the Salt Mines is a dud. It doesn't work and the Orb's broken, too."
"I heard."
"How are you so calm? I was devastated. Sarpedon's hoping that once I recover, I can try again. He has it locked away in the Temple. I have to go see it soon, but I don't want to. It's not going to work because I broke it. "
He nods. "I know."
"You're such a jerk sometimes," I say with a flash of anger. Why am I mad? Because he should be upset and yelling, and being grumpy, not being compassionate and understanding.
A smug smile lights up his face. "I know that, too."
That admission lightens my mood and makes me grin for real, but I hit him with a pillow anyway.
"You are a violent person. You should see somebody about that."
"Such a jerk," I say as I stand. "I'm getting out of this room."
He follows me into the hall.
Now that I've voluntarily left, I don't mind leaving as much. Or maybe I'm over my fear since I was out already with Jonah.
Dathid's leading me somewhere, but he's trying to make it seem like it's my idea. I turn down a random hallway just to see what he'll do. He grabs my arm and yanks me back to him.
"You're a violent person," I say.
"Yeah, but I've always been. I'm not the one who's changed."
"Oh yes, you have," I say, and he gives me a sideways glance. Then he holds the door open for me, but I hesitate. "I'm in my pajamas."
"So what. The elves think you dress weird anyway. No one will notice."
"Yes, they will. My pajamas may be dark, but an elf made them."
He waits by the open door.
"Oh, who cares." I stomp out, relieved they're the shorts and t-shirt kind and not a nightgown.
We walk down the street in silence because we've run out of conversation. I flip through some safe topics in my head and finally find one. "I hear you're a dad now. Congratulations."
"'Bout time you stopped thinking about yourself." The grin across his face is joyous.
I smile back because I like seeing him happy. Jealousy tears through me, wiping the stupid grin from my face. I want something that can make me happy like that. Of course, he can live; he has a lot to live for.
I drop my gaze to the floor and take a deep breath. I'm not a jealous person. How do I keep my thoughts from destroying me?
Dathid's happy. I am happy for him. I force the smile back on my face and look up.
"That's all I know. You're a dad. Can I get some details, please?" Albína has been talking about the little princess endlessly, so I already know quite a bit, but he wants to talk about his daughter.
"She has white hair and grey eyes, like her mother. My sisters love her elfish coloring, so funny. She's beautiful with a round head and normal ears. Still waiting to see what's going on with the nose. Her name's Galia. She's perfect. We needed to move her back here because the faerie children her age are starting to fly. She could get injured."
No wings, that hurts him. "Can you fly?" I shouldn't have asked that. He was just in good spirits, and then I had to go and bring up sad things. What's wrong with me?
"Some. It takes a long time for a wing to heal. And training it to lift a grown man takes even longer. But I might get lucky on this one."
We end up at the Uniquestrian Center. Stryder yells from across the complex when he hears me approach and jumps over all, but the last fence to reach me. When I climb through to his paddock, he snorts in my face and pushes me in the gut.
"I'm happy to see you, too," I say through the hand that's wiping unicorn spit off my chin.
Unicorns love excitement, so when Stryder jumped the fences, others joined in the fun. Now we're hemmed in by antsy unicorns on all sides. Dathid's annoyed and is aggressively pushing at the jumble of furry bodies. Seeing Stryder made my soul sing, but having Dathid grumpy makes me ecstatic.
We finally clear a path, and Stryder and a few of his friends follow us to the paddock where Dathid's unicorn is.
"Of course you have a white one," I groan.
He grins. "Yeah, someone once told me that the white ones are the best."
"That person was wrong. White is so run of the mill. You need a unique one."
"Let's take Liatress and Stryder for a ride around the grounds. There's some fun stuff you should see."
Fear pounces on me. I forgot to be miserable, and now I'm paying the price. I shake my head. "I don't want to."
He ignores me and hops on his unicorn.
Stryder dances around with excitement. My emotions are jumbled in a confusing mix that I can't sort through. I missed Stryder. I'm as delighted to see him as he is to see me, but he reminds me of Lenox, and that makes my guts hurt. "I'm going back to bed."
Stryder stops wiggling, his ears sink low, and his head drops. I've hurt his feelings—Dathid's right; I can be a self-absorbed jerk sometimes.
I attempt to jump on Stryder's back. It's disappointing and embarrassing that I struggle to do it. It's uncomfortable for both of us, but I manage to right myself. It's amazing how fast I lost the ability to do that. What else have I lost?
"First one to the Clouss Cistern wins," Dathid shouts as he takes off.