A Shiver of Light
Page 72
Doyle was so strong, and I felt so safe as he carried me down the hallway, but it was an illusion, because no matter how good you were with a sword or gun, or how much magic you had, death could still come, could still carry you away. I could not protect anyone, not really, and by that same thought, they couldn’t protect me. Eventually, we all lost.
I kept my face buried against Doyle. I breathed in the scent of him, and didn’t look up as he adjusted his hold on me and opened the door to our bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind us, and I heard Frost say, “What has happened now?”
What had happened now? It wasn’t just me. We were all getting … battle fatigue, hadn’t they called it once? Doyle started to explain what little he knew, and I just let their voices wash over me. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, because no matter how hard I tried, or what I did, I couldn’t defeat all our enemies, I couldn’t find us a safe haven in the midst of it all. Even here in the Western Lands, as far from my family as I could travel, they would not leave us in peace.
Doyle laid me on the bed between the two of them, my favoritest place in the world to be, and for once I felt nothing but a dim numbness, like trying to sense the world while wrapped carefully in cotton and put away somewhere so I wouldn’t break.
Frost was above me, propped up on one arm. He touched my face, traced the still-wet track of my tears, and said, “Merry, our Merry, what has happened to make you weep so?”
I stared up into that heartbreakingly handsome face, those gray eyes, and I saw again that image that sometimes showed in them, like the inside of some magical miniature snow globe. It was a winter-barren tree on a hillside with snow all around it, but for the first time there was a mist of pink buds, the promise of blossoms to come. For no reason that I could name, the sight of that promising pink blush of life made me start to cry again.
I wept as if my heart would break and spill out of my eyes in shattered pieces on the sheets, and their hands tried to comfort me and save the pieces I was crying away. The light and the dark hands touching me, caressing, their voices saying all the things you say when the people you love are in pain. I started to yell at them, tell them that they were wrong, that it wouldn’t be all right, that it would never be all right. I told them they were lying to themselves if they believed it would be all right. I screamed and cried and fought, and it wasn’t them I was fighting, it was everything else, but as so often happens it’s your nearest and dearest who take the brunt of your rage.
Arms found me that wouldn’t let go, that held me so tight that I couldn’t push them away or struggle free. I was pressed against a chest, held in arms so strong that it felt as if nothing could move them or tear them from me. Strength like that could have made me panic, but when Taranis had done what he did, he hadn’t held me tight; the injury had done that for him. He was a man who didn’t know how to hold on to anything, or anyone, but himself. The man who held me now knew how to hold and keep and protect, and I gave myself over to that strength. I collapsed into the dark solidity of his arms, my head pressed against his chest, arms limp at my sides as I let myself cry in a way I hadn’t allowed myself yet. I cried until there were no more tears, and I felt empty like a seashell that held only echoes of what it had once been.
I ended up lying on top of him, my head on his chest so I could hear the sure beat of his heart, while one arm held me close and the other stroked my hair. Doyle’s deep voice rumbled up through his chest as he whispered, “Merry, Merry, Merry.”
The bed moved and I knew it was Frost; then his hand stroked my back, and he said, “I would do anything to take this pain from you.”
I turned my head so that my other cheek lay on Doyle’s chest while I looked at Frost. He lay on his side beside us, his hand still laid gently on me. Tears shone on his face, his eyes looking darker gray than usual like clouds before it rains, heavy and dark, or maybe that was just how I felt.
“I know that,” I said, and my voice was still thick with tears.
He lay down beside Doyle, who moved his arm from holding me to let Frost slip into the circle of his arm, and put his arm across me and hold me against Doyle’s body. Frost’s head lay on Doyle’s shoulder, one long leg going over Doyle’s legs, so we lay entwined, the three of us. I loved seeing two such big, physical men hold each other, and hold me like this. It made me feel safer and more complete than anything ever had.
Yet even here with them, the fear wasn’t gone. It was pushed back, but it was like a battle; being here with them meant I was safe and happy for now, but the next wave of invaders was coming. Maybe that was always true of life? I’d had a professor in college who said we were all temporarily able-bodied; at the time I hadn’t understood, but I did now. Were we all just temporarily happy? Or were we all just temporarily sad? I guess it depended on how you looked at things.
I reached out and traced the tracks of tears on Frost’s cheek. “Why are you crying?” I asked.
“Because you are, and I love you,” he said.
I laid my hand against his cheek, and my hand was so small that I couldn’t cover the whole side of his face even with my fingertips spread.
“I do not love you less because I do not cry,” Doyle said.
I moved my head enough so I could see his face. “I know that,” I said.
“We both know that,” Frost said, and moved his head just enough so he could meet the other man’s eyes, so that we were both gazing up at Doyle.
He looked down at both of us, from inches away, and suddenly he smiled bright and glorious in the darkness of his face. “I had given up such dreams as this.”
“As what?” I asked.
He hugged both of us with the arm he had around each of us. “This, the two of you in my arms, gazing at me like that. It is more than I ever hoped to have again, one person to love and be loved by, but to have both of you is such riches as no man would ever expect in one lifetime.”
I smiled at him, and I knew that Frost was, too, but I glanced to see that smile, those gray eyes gazing up at our tall, dark, and handsome man.
“I, too, had no thought of ever being this happy again,” Frost said.
“I’ve never been this happy,” I said.
They both looked at me. “Not even when you were in love with Griffin?” Frost asked.
“I wasn’t in love with Griffin when my father made him my fiancé, but he was handsome and sidhe, and my father’s choice.”
“So it was a political coupling, not a love match?” Doyle asked.
I nodded, my chin resting on his chest.
“We all envied him,” Frost said.
I turned to look at him. “You and the other guards talked about it?”
“No,” he said, and seemed to think about it, and finally said, “I can only say, I envied him.”
“I didn’t think you even liked me,” I said.
He smiled. “I will admit that it wasn’t you, our Merry, but more any woman at that point, but when I saw you look at him with your face shining with love, then I envied him you.”
I sighed. “I did grow to love him, but looking back at all of it I don’t think he ever loved me. If he’d gotten me pregnant we would have married, and I’m not sure when I would have figured out how little he valued me.”
I kept my face buried against Doyle. I breathed in the scent of him, and didn’t look up as he adjusted his hold on me and opened the door to our bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind us, and I heard Frost say, “What has happened now?”
What had happened now? It wasn’t just me. We were all getting … battle fatigue, hadn’t they called it once? Doyle started to explain what little he knew, and I just let their voices wash over me. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, because no matter how hard I tried, or what I did, I couldn’t defeat all our enemies, I couldn’t find us a safe haven in the midst of it all. Even here in the Western Lands, as far from my family as I could travel, they would not leave us in peace.
Doyle laid me on the bed between the two of them, my favoritest place in the world to be, and for once I felt nothing but a dim numbness, like trying to sense the world while wrapped carefully in cotton and put away somewhere so I wouldn’t break.
Frost was above me, propped up on one arm. He touched my face, traced the still-wet track of my tears, and said, “Merry, our Merry, what has happened to make you weep so?”
I stared up into that heartbreakingly handsome face, those gray eyes, and I saw again that image that sometimes showed in them, like the inside of some magical miniature snow globe. It was a winter-barren tree on a hillside with snow all around it, but for the first time there was a mist of pink buds, the promise of blossoms to come. For no reason that I could name, the sight of that promising pink blush of life made me start to cry again.
I wept as if my heart would break and spill out of my eyes in shattered pieces on the sheets, and their hands tried to comfort me and save the pieces I was crying away. The light and the dark hands touching me, caressing, their voices saying all the things you say when the people you love are in pain. I started to yell at them, tell them that they were wrong, that it wouldn’t be all right, that it would never be all right. I told them they were lying to themselves if they believed it would be all right. I screamed and cried and fought, and it wasn’t them I was fighting, it was everything else, but as so often happens it’s your nearest and dearest who take the brunt of your rage.
Arms found me that wouldn’t let go, that held me so tight that I couldn’t push them away or struggle free. I was pressed against a chest, held in arms so strong that it felt as if nothing could move them or tear them from me. Strength like that could have made me panic, but when Taranis had done what he did, he hadn’t held me tight; the injury had done that for him. He was a man who didn’t know how to hold on to anything, or anyone, but himself. The man who held me now knew how to hold and keep and protect, and I gave myself over to that strength. I collapsed into the dark solidity of his arms, my head pressed against his chest, arms limp at my sides as I let myself cry in a way I hadn’t allowed myself yet. I cried until there were no more tears, and I felt empty like a seashell that held only echoes of what it had once been.
I ended up lying on top of him, my head on his chest so I could hear the sure beat of his heart, while one arm held me close and the other stroked my hair. Doyle’s deep voice rumbled up through his chest as he whispered, “Merry, Merry, Merry.”
The bed moved and I knew it was Frost; then his hand stroked my back, and he said, “I would do anything to take this pain from you.”
I turned my head so that my other cheek lay on Doyle’s chest while I looked at Frost. He lay on his side beside us, his hand still laid gently on me. Tears shone on his face, his eyes looking darker gray than usual like clouds before it rains, heavy and dark, or maybe that was just how I felt.
“I know that,” I said, and my voice was still thick with tears.
He lay down beside Doyle, who moved his arm from holding me to let Frost slip into the circle of his arm, and put his arm across me and hold me against Doyle’s body. Frost’s head lay on Doyle’s shoulder, one long leg going over Doyle’s legs, so we lay entwined, the three of us. I loved seeing two such big, physical men hold each other, and hold me like this. It made me feel safer and more complete than anything ever had.
Yet even here with them, the fear wasn’t gone. It was pushed back, but it was like a battle; being here with them meant I was safe and happy for now, but the next wave of invaders was coming. Maybe that was always true of life? I’d had a professor in college who said we were all temporarily able-bodied; at the time I hadn’t understood, but I did now. Were we all just temporarily happy? Or were we all just temporarily sad? I guess it depended on how you looked at things.
I reached out and traced the tracks of tears on Frost’s cheek. “Why are you crying?” I asked.
“Because you are, and I love you,” he said.
I laid my hand against his cheek, and my hand was so small that I couldn’t cover the whole side of his face even with my fingertips spread.
“I do not love you less because I do not cry,” Doyle said.
I moved my head enough so I could see his face. “I know that,” I said.
“We both know that,” Frost said, and moved his head just enough so he could meet the other man’s eyes, so that we were both gazing up at Doyle.
He looked down at both of us, from inches away, and suddenly he smiled bright and glorious in the darkness of his face. “I had given up such dreams as this.”
“As what?” I asked.
He hugged both of us with the arm he had around each of us. “This, the two of you in my arms, gazing at me like that. It is more than I ever hoped to have again, one person to love and be loved by, but to have both of you is such riches as no man would ever expect in one lifetime.”
I smiled at him, and I knew that Frost was, too, but I glanced to see that smile, those gray eyes gazing up at our tall, dark, and handsome man.
“I, too, had no thought of ever being this happy again,” Frost said.
“I’ve never been this happy,” I said.
They both looked at me. “Not even when you were in love with Griffin?” Frost asked.
“I wasn’t in love with Griffin when my father made him my fiancé, but he was handsome and sidhe, and my father’s choice.”
“So it was a political coupling, not a love match?” Doyle asked.
I nodded, my chin resting on his chest.
“We all envied him,” Frost said.
I turned to look at him. “You and the other guards talked about it?”
“No,” he said, and seemed to think about it, and finally said, “I can only say, I envied him.”
“I didn’t think you even liked me,” I said.
He smiled. “I will admit that it wasn’t you, our Merry, but more any woman at that point, but when I saw you look at him with your face shining with love, then I envied him you.”
I sighed. “I did grow to love him, but looking back at all of it I don’t think he ever loved me. If he’d gotten me pregnant we would have married, and I’m not sure when I would have figured out how little he valued me.”
