by Sarina Dorie
“An ‘appropriate’ amount? What does that even mean?” I pushed my bowl away, even though I wasn’t done. “If I tell you it felt good, and I had an orgasm so now I’m magically cured of being paralyzed, am I supposed to feel guilty? Because I do. Okay?”
He frowned. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel guilty. I was concerned. That’s all. I wanted to make sure you felt enjoyment, and he kept his word.” The gray of his eyes spoke of a thousand dreary moments torturing his soul.
I felt guilty for sleeping with Elric. Now I felt worse for snapping at Thatch. This obviously wasn’t easy on him, knowing he hadn’t been able to cure me and relying on a man he loathed above all others.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not trying to make this worse for you. What happened is over. I don’t want to keep thinking about it. Can we just put it behind us?” Only, I didn’t know if I could. We weren’t out of the situation yet. I might fall asleep again.
He wet his lips. From the way he stared off toward the bed, I suspected he couldn’t.
“What I did . . . it doesn’t make me feel any different about you. I still love you.” I reached across the table, placing a hand over his. “Do you . . . not want me now?”
He stood. “Of course I want you.” He lifted me to my feet and drew me into his embrace, dipping his head down to rest his cheek against mine. “I will always love you.”
Those were the words I needed to hear. Everything would be all right between us so long as we loved each other. He kissed the top of my head, squeezing me to him so fiercely I barely had enough room to breathe.
I lifted my chin and kissed him. “Are we done, then? Things can go back to normal?”
He sighed. “There is no more normal for us, Clarissa. It only gets worse from here.”
I poked him in his ribs. “No more gloom and doom from you. I mean it.”
He squirmed back and plastered a fake smile on his face. “I mean, it’s all sunshine and rainbow excrement from unicorn’s behinds from here on out.”
That was the closest I would get to optimism from my husband.
Thatch made me take his arm and walk laps around the room. The more I walked, the easier it became. The stiffness left my legs, and I was able to increase my speed. It was Thatch who looked fatigued. That tremor came back to his hands.
“I think it’s time for you to rest,” he said. “We don’t want you to overtax yourself today.”
I would have objected, but I suspected he needed the respite more than I did. Knowing him, though, he would rather have stabbed himself in the eye than admit any weakness in conduct or ability.
“What happened to us?” I asked. “How did we get drained? Elric said the Raven Queen.”
“Indeed. We battled. She won. We’re lucky we survived.”
“I don’t remember fighting with her. It was after . . . we were married?” I vaguely remembered getting ready, wearing my mom’s wedding dress, and something about Vega getting hurt, but every time I reached for the past, it slipped out of my grasp.
I wanted to know the truth. I also was afraid of what my past contained and why it brought so much pain to my body.
“You are correct. She was most displeased by our marriage.” He held up paintbrushes. “Has Elric’s muse magic sunk its teeth into you yet?”
Now that I thought of it, I realized it hadn’t. I’d felt flickers of it, but it was now gone. Always before, being in Elric’s presence had inspired me to create masterpieces.
“I don’t feel very creative,” I said.
“Art therapy is soothing for trauma. You should give it a go. Perhaps you’ll surprise yourself.”
He set up a tray with a palette of watercolors and papers over the lace tablecloth for me. His expression was guarded, wary. I didn’t know whether he was on edge about me being with Elric or the price of Elric’s magic to cure me or something else.
“What was the price of Elric curing me?” I asked, testing the waters to see if Elric had been telling the truth.
“Nothing. It’s taken care of.” He strode across the room to the bookshelf and selected a book.
I studied the way he stiffened. “What was the price?”
He didn’t look at me. “You needn’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worrying.” Okay, so I was worried. Especially because he wouldn’t tell me. “I just want to know.”
He gripped the book so tightly his knuckles turned as white as bones. “If you ask me again, I will jinx your tongue so that you will forget what you were going to ask every time you try.”
I took a chance and hoped he was bluffing. “Did you promise him your soul?” It would make sense why he looked so weak.
He crossed his arms. “No.”
“He said I might fall in love with him, and you had to give your permission or something chauvinistic like that.” I waited for him to correct me. “And then he implied you said I had to give my consent.”
“I’m not answering any more questions.” He crossed his arms, sulkily staring out the window.
That was it, then. He must have agreed to allow Elric to cure me by making love to me—if I gave my consent—and Thatch couldn’t interfere if I fell in love with Elric.
I glared at him. “I’m still in love with you.”
One of his perfectly groomed eyebrows shot upward. “Even though you think I’m a pigheaded tyrant?”
“Yep.” I stood.
He rose, one arm out in a protective gesture, as if afraid I would fall. He stepped in closer.
I tilted my chin up to him. “You, Felix Thatch, are going to kiss me right now and show me what a wonderful husband you are so that I don’t fall in love with your rival.”
“I could get used to this demanding side of you.” He encircled me in the sanctuary of his embrace and kissed me.
My lips yielded to his, inviting him in. I almost felt a flutter in my affinity, but it wasn’t much. Not like it had been with Elric. But that hadn’t been love. It was lust. Magic.
I loved my husband.
“Did we ever have a honeymoon?” I waggled my eyebrows. “Because I don’t remember one.”
He took my face in his hands. “No. Regretfully, we didn’t.”
“We could pretend this is our honeymoon,” I said.
His lips twitched. “Indeed. Shall we see how well you fare with less strenuous activities first?” He sat me in my chair and planted a kiss on my cheek.
I tried to hide my disappointment. Pleasure wasn’t as good for him as it was for me. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get drained. I loathed myself for doing that to him.
Thatch sat across from me reading from a book by Jane Austen titled, Mr. Darcy’s Fae Lover. Supposedly Jane Austen had written it under the influence of a muse from the Silver Court. I had seen that book in Elric’s room in his father’s home, as well as many other tempting titles.
I had only read one line in the book: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a married man in possession of a wife must be in want of a fairy lover.” I couldn’t imagine Mr. Darcy cheating on his wife. Then again, maybe he had a problem with his magic, and he needed a Fae lover to cure him like I had.
Or maybe Fae magic had turned Mr. Darcy into an unfaithful slut.
I no longer yearned to read the book. Maybe Elric had The Return of the Entwives.
Thatch slouched in his seat, eyes on the first page as I gazed at my sketchpad. He wasn’t reading. He’d been on the same page for over half an hour.
I had drawn only a few lines in that time.
Usually the elegance of his long nose and large haunted eyes inspired me to create. He was still beautiful, even with the streak of silver in his tousled midnight hair. Yet, I didn’t feel like creating. I felt empty inside.
I closed my eyes and sank into my core, prodding at the affinity inside me. The red light swirled around me, smaller and weaker than it had been before, but it was still there
. I shifted my awareness through my body, noticing the way my energy flowed out from my core in channels along my limbs, reminding me of a strip of LED lights. The channels from my center into my legs were broken in some places and lacking in energy. I could see I wasn’t fully healed.
When I focused my magic, I was able to strengthen the broken strands of magic to my legs. I had to imagine the feel of Thatch’s lips on mine, the sensations of pleasure, to make my magic swell. The Red affinity in me grew, but it didn’t touch the hungry void I still felt inside me.
My instinct was to cleanse that hollow inside me and brighten it with pleasure, but the more I focused on that place, the harder it became to have happy thoughts. I imagined Thatch’s hand sliding up my thigh. Nothing.
Unbidden, I remembered Elric’s lips on my naked flesh that morning. My heart lurched. I couldn’t tell whether that was yearning or guilt.
“Clarissa,” Thatch said in warning. “I know what you’re doing. Don’t.”
I opened my eyes. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“Something dangerous with your affinity that you aren’t yet ready for. Have a care not to blow the roof off Elric’s estate.” A sardonic smile twitched his lips. “Elric might forgive you, but Vega won’t.”
I laughed at that. “I’m not going to use any magic. I just wanted to meditate.”
“I know you too well. You never want to meditate. You complain when I insist you meditate.”
“I admit, it isn’t the most fun part of practicing magic. But it’s useful for body awareness. I wanted to feel my magic.”
He lifted an eyebrow as if he didn’t believe me. “Are you done?”
“Do I have magic?”
“You will.” He held up a finger. “I know you. Don’t try to use it. You aren’t ready. You’re too depleted, and you’ll hurt yourself.”
At least he was willing to tell me that much.
“Like when I was drained after what Derrick did to me? It’s like that? My magic hasn’t come back yet?”
He hesitated. “Yes. Like that.” He fixed his gaze on his book.
“But it’s also different?”
He placed his finger in the book, marking his page. “No, it’s very much the same. You need to recharge your energy through your touch affinity. If you can keep yourself from using active magic, it will be easier for you to renew your powers. You’ll be less likely to accidentally drain yourself in the process.”
“How did the Raven Queen drain me?” Or perhaps the true question was: Why hadn’t she killed me? That was more her style.
He resumed reading.
“Was it someone else who drained me?”
He turned a page in his book.
Elric had suggested Thatch felt guilty about something. Thatch had used pain magic on me in the past out of the necessity to build his magic and gain power—and to try to save my life. I suspected I was starting to gain a better picture of what he might have done.
Still, there was more to it than that.
“Is this part of your bargain with Elric? You’ve made an oath, and you can’t talk about it?”
“Indeed,” he mumbled.
“And you think the truth will ruin me?”
He lifted the book, hiding his face behind it. “Something like that.”
Not knowing would eat at me. Didn’t he see that? “It’s worse not knowing the truth.”
“Is it?”
I could see he wasn’t going to budge. Both Elric and Thatch were keeping secrets from me. Neither of them had ever successfully kept knowledge from me before. I didn’t know why they thought this time would be any different when I was going to be as determined as ever to get it out of them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Prisoner of Conscience
Elric stopped in briefly to check on me later in the evening. Thatch insisted I remain in our room because I needed to rest. I was fortunate Elric had invested in plumbing and a water closet as opposed to relying on chamber pots, but the room lacked a shower and bath.
Elric explained there were hot springs outside for bathing. “Or I can send a maid up with a tub.” Elric said. “I would offer Vega’s private bath to you, but I truly should ask her first. She isn’t one for sharing.”
Yeah, I wondered how she was going to take it that her husband had shared himself with me.
“Where is Vega?” I asked Thatch. “When do I get to see her?”
Elric nodded. He opened his mouth, about to tell me, when one of the servants burst into the room. The young man rushed up to Elric, out of breath. “It’s Captain Errol, Your Lordship. He caught a spy from the Raven Court who was trying to get in.”
Elric didn’t even excuse himself in his haste to leave. Not that I blamed him. I didn’t want the Raven Court getting in and causing havoc.
On the second day, I woke to Thatch covering my face with kisses. It was a nice way to wake up. A servant came in and served us breakfast in bed.
“Wow, I could get used to this,” I said.
“If there’s one advantage to being guests in a Fae house, they do food well.”
A lady’s maid came in to bring me water for bathing. I dressed in the plain black clothes Thatch had brought me so that I didn’t need the assistance of a lady’s maid. The one disadvantage was that I felt like I was in mourning.
When I suggested we go to the garden, Thatch showed me the books in the case, trying to tempt me with rare literature that I had never read before. The Return of the Entwives by J. R. R. Tolkien was enticing.
“Is there some reason you don’t want me to go outside?” I felt like the narrator of “Hotel California.” I could mentally check out, but I couldn’t physically leave.
Thatch crossed the room and opened the window. “Here’s some fresh air. Isn’t that better?” He pretended to smile. He had never been good at pretending to be happy.
I was just about ready to throw a book at him. “Felix Thatch, why are you keeping me inside?”
The sound of voices drifted in from outside. Children laughed somewhere below.
“It isn’t safe outside. There are too many stairs.” He took my hand and walked me over to a cushioned chair. “I don’t want you to trip and fall down like last time. You should be resting.”
Like last time. He meant one of the other times I’d woken, and it hadn’t lasted. I didn’t remember tripping, but that sounded like the kind of thing I would do.
“You could carry me.”
“No, I cannot.” He didn’t say he wouldn’t, which was what he’d told me the last time I’d asked him to carry me up a set of stairs. He said he couldn’t.
He did look fatigued, and the day had just begun. He handed me a stack of books. “Nor do I think walking in a garden would be good for your health.”
“Since when did you become the overly concerned nursemaid?”
His neutral tone slowly rose, giving way to the anger inside him. “Since your treatment for overtaxing yourself became having sexual intercourse with a bloody damned Fae prince.”
I stared at him, horrified.
“I’m . . . sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think I would need to sleep with him again.”
His shoulders deflated. “No, I’m sorry. It isn’t your fault.” He tugged the book from my hands and hugged me.
“How long will it take before you can spend time with me intimately without me draining you?” I wanted to get better before school started.
And I wanted it to be my husband who helped restore me.
“I don’t know. Until I’ve fully regained my strength.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me. “Will you sit and read with me? Or paint?”
He hadn’t mentioned meditation or anything that would improve my health and magic. That’s why I chose it. “I’ll do my visualization exercises.”
“If you must.” He sat in a chair near me, his expression glum.
I didn’t try to use magic in his p
resence. I knew better. I only meditated and moved my awareness around my body. Thatch didn’t speak. When I had finished, I found Thatch sketching my portrait with ink. His fingers were stained with black blotches, and he’d gotten a smudge on his jaw.
I stretched and walked around, settling down with a book.
By the time Elric came in with a servant carrying a tray at lunchtime, Thatch looked haggard. His hands had started to shake while he’d been drawing, and he’d placed his hands under the table, hiding them like a guilty child. I wanted to ask him what had happened, but I feared it would only be one more thing he would lie to me about, and this one would cost him his pride if I dug too deeply.
Elric looked like David Bowie in his snug pants and loose poet shirt. His red cowboy boots and Middle Eastern jacket were interesting touches to his ensemble.
Thatch shifted the ink and papers aside for the maid’s tray. He dropped the quill he’d been using to draw, splattering a line of ink on the floor and onto the toe of Elric’s red boots. Elric eyed Thatch suspiciously, his lips pressing into a line. I’d never known Thatch to be clumsy. More likely he would have intentionally splattered ink on Elric out of revenge.
“I beg your pardon,” Thatch said. From the way his face flushed, I suspected it had been an accident.
I crouched to help him. “Here, let me get that.” I helped him clear the table of art supplies.
“Sit. Rest. You don’t need to do this.” He set the art supplies on a dresser.
Elric eyed the splattered ink and stepped over it. “Mr. Thatch, you look like you need to take a turn about my grounds.”
“Pardon me.” Thatch bowed to me, eyes downcast. “I’ll return later.”
“What about lunch?” I asked.
He mumbled something incomprehensible as he left.
The maid set down the tray and removed lids from the dishes.
Elric set a napkin on my lap and seated himself across from me. “Clarissa, you are a vision of loveliness no matter what somber attire he has selected for you.”
I crossed my arms. “I don’t appreciate you pushing Felix out of the room just so you can spend time alone with me.” Probably to have his way with me again.