| |
Vera sat up and sobbed quietly into her hands. For months she'd been having horrible dreams. They were happy, but she always awoke feeling alone and broken-hearted. This time, she'd dreamt of the games she and her brother used to play. They were chasing and wrestling, and his face glowed with such light and happiness that she dreaded waking to a world without his laughter. These dreams were worse than the nightmares she couldn't remember. She felt as though her childhood and all of her purest joy had been stolen from her by the dark lord.
Vera didn't remember the massacre of her family, though she knew she'd witnessed it. Deep in her heart, a part of her must have remembered the horror of watching her loved ones die, and it never slept.
"What's wrong, child?" Wizkand pushed himself up on his mattress.
"Nothing, Wizzy. Go back to sleep."
He made his way to her bed in the darkness, climbing up next to her so he could wrap a comforting arm around her middle. "Is it the wings again? Should I make more salve?" He looked back at her wings resting on the blankets behind them.
"No. It's not that."
"Is it . . . the Kingdom again?" he asked carefully. Vera shook her head and looked down at her lap, feeling a little silly to be so emotional. "I miss them so much, still. Everyone. I was only nine, but I miss them as if it was just yesterday that mother tucked me in for the last time." Tears welled in her eyes, and her voice cracked. Wizkand nodded, squeezing her briefly.
"I miss them too, sweet girl. Though the world barely remembers them, it was only a handful of years ago for us. The wounds are still fresh, but even when they heal, the scars will remain. Just try to remember the happy times."
"That's what hurts the most," she confessed, bowing her head to truly weep. "I was always happy, even when I was punished for being noisy or disobedient. I was always happy, Wizzy. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. Will I ever get that back? Will they haunt me forever?"
Wizkand pushed himself up to kiss her cheek. "You will. I promise. You just have to be sure that your heart is open for it, and it will come."
Vera nodded glumly. "I have a terrible feeling, Wizzy. I've have had it for some time."
"Hmm? What is it?" Wizkand kept his eyes downcast, but his tone belayed a hidden reticence. He clearly thought she could not tell that he kept secrets from her, but she knew him like she had never known anyone.
When Vera spoke of the past, and when she spoke of the kingdom, Wizkand withdrew. She avoided those subjects most days, but he was her only friend. She needed to confide in someone, to share her fears and the instinctual knowledge she was developing with someone. "I don't know. It's like a sickness in my stomach. Even when I dance now, I can't forget it's there." Maybe it was time to discuss those things he avoided. "I feel like something big is coming, something really bad."
Wizkand swallowed, but resisted her subtle implication that he might have answers. "Just never mind it, child. We are safe here."
Vera's heart fell a little at the pain she heard in his voice. As anxious as she was to know what he kept from her, she could see how deeply hurt he was.
"Calm your mind and go back to sleep," he quietly urged. "I will be here when you wake, watching over you. Forever watching over you."
Vera hugged him, tears blurring her vision. "I know I've been awful to you, Wizzy. I just want you to know that everything you've done for me, for my parents, I will always love you for that. You've been there for me and given so much, even when you've had nothing to give. Thank you. Thank you so much."
Wizkand sniffled stubbornly. "That's not true. I've never had nothing. I've always had you, child." He patted her back, smiling, and pulled away. "Now, go back to sleep. I'll tell you a story about the fickle nature of wyrrcrii."
Vera chuckled softly and nodded, deciding to let the nightmares of the past fade for one more day. She laid down on her side and let him rub her back. "I'm probably too old for fables, but I like these ones."
"I know." Wizkand ran his fingers along the cold, velvety, blue fur on the outside of her wings. He smiled, and Vera thought of how lovely her mother's wings had been. Wizkand looked toward the window, and drew a breath to center himself. "The wyrrcrus princess was only seven when she came to the clear and concise knowledge that she would rather have legs than fins."
Vera closed her eyes and let his tale lull her back to sleep. Perhaps this time, she wouldn't see the smiling faces of her most beloved kin, only to wake and find them gone.