Nectar of War: The Song of Verity and Serenity (The Nectar of War Series Book 1)
Nectar of War: Part 1 – Chapter 15

LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II

L orena directed Maivena to the chamber I used to stay in while here at the palace, but this is not where we are staying while in Gordanta.

The balcony doors are shut, multiple candles around the room are lit, and logs burn bright in the large fireplace.

When I get closer, I see Maivena. She lies on the chaise in front of the fire, fast asleep. There is a book in her hand that hangs off the chaise; I smile and step closer.

Before I can approach, the book slips from her hand; the hard thud to the ground wakes her in fright. I flinch as she scrambles around panting. She tumbles from the chaise, and I avidly reach out to help her, but she clambers backward.

I do not want to frighten her any more than she already is. I can hear nothing but the loud panic in her breath as it forces itself from her.

She does not stop receding until her back collides with the wall. She coils herself into the corner of the chamber, her fingers nearly turn white from how tightly she holds herself . . . no, protects herself.

I stay where I am, and lower to the floor.

Her frantic heartbeat is like drums beating and echoing through the room.

I swallow. “Maivena?”

There is quiet weeping as her head buries into her knees. She is still asleep, still walking through a terror in the night.

I call out for her again, this time louder, but keeping my voice leveled and low.

Closing my eyes, I channel every sliver of power I received from Morano during the Blood Bond Ritual. I set out to reveal a small crack in her mind to force through to replace her.

My mind begins to slip due to her low cries diverting me, a natural reaction, the need to save her from everything.

I dig deeper, focusing harder than I ever have to get into someone’s mind.

There were many things Morano said would occur when I successfully make my way into someone’s mind for the first time; the main occurrence, pain. Excruciating pain that envelopes your head from taking on not only your thoughts but theirs as well. And if you dig deep enough, it is possible to take on their emotions, which can turn out horribly if you do not have control over what you are doing.

I refuse to succumb to the pain. Instead, I fight it.

There is nothing here but darkness.

This darkness is not from me failing to get through to her. It begins to clear, clarifying the space her mind is trapped in.

She is there.

Curled, naked, and dirty . . . confined in a large, shaking wooden box.

Pegasi’ hooves pound into the ground, carrying her away.

There is screaming. But it is not her.

Through a tiny hole in the wood, I see a little boy. He is chasing behind the broken carriage, yelling. His cries are painful, but she does not move.

He grabs onto the carriage, and I can hear his feet dragging to keep up with the speed of the Pegasi.

Ira.

It is her little brother.

Then, there is laughter from afar, vicious laughter as Ira’s bellowing moves farther and farther away.

He could not keep up to get back to her.

“Maivena,” I brokenly whisper. I am not aware if I fully spoke her name.

Her weeping continues.

“This is only a nightmare,” I impel for more strength. “You have to open your eyes.”

There is an ease to her cries. The girl in her dreams that I recognize well still does not move. She is as motionless as night.

“It is you, and me. There is only us. Open your eyes, darling. Look at me.”

Immediately, I tear open my eyes to Maivena, and I intake a sharp breath as she quakes. She is crawling, her knees trip over her gown as she hastily rushes toward me.

She does not make it halfway across the distance between us before I gather her in my arms. Her body settles into my hold, and a gasp pulls at her chest as she finally breathes.

Her arms are tight around my back as she holds on to me for dear life. Her grip does not falter. She only holds me tighter, slowly seeking a regulated breathing pattern.

I secure my arm around her waist and smooth my hand over her neck, pressing my lips to the top of her head.

She stays here, unmoving and idle, searching for that small light of life she had before this.

And I give her every bit of life from me to fuel her in any way she needs.

I look down as she peers upward. Her eyes are big—as if asking if it is okay to stay right where she is. I pull her closer, and she settles further in. The warmth of my body calms the chills shaking her fragile frame.

“Fonavyn House is not too far from here. Do you want to go there with me?”

She sits up straighter and nods.

Still carrying her, I stand from the floor and grab her cloak that is lying on the arm of the chaise before ascending from the chamber.

Her head rests on my shoulder, and I know I could hold her here until death.

She stands as we land in the main chamber of my house.

Maivena turns, looking up at me and I trace her reddened cheeks. “Bathe with me.”

Let me wash this terror from your skin.

I grab her hands and walk backward, pulling her in the direction of the bathing room.

She watches as I pull the lever that flows water through the stone tub. I light lanterns around the room to bring a dimmed brightness around us. Just above the tub the moonlight glows through the ceiling window.

Each button of my topcoat is pulled until it falls heavily to the floor. She releases my undershirt from being tucked into my trousers and I quietly laugh as she struggles to pull the shirt over my head as she is unable to reach. The moment I discard the shirt, I outstretch my arms and bring her closer.

She turns around and I move the thick curls flowing down her back. I pull the laces that hold her dress together, each tug of the white string reveals her smooth brown skin.

The satin slips down her hips, and circles at her ankles. I bend at the knee as she faces me, and remove the shoes from her feet. I am just below her chin as I kneel in front of her.

She slightly dips her head, and she grazes my forehead with her lips as I stare up at her.

I could faint just looking at her.

There is comfort forming in her eyes as her lips sweep from my forehead and down my nose.

I stand, and she draws out the laces of my trousers, grabbing the hem, she pushes them down my legs.

Her hands touch my hips, leisurely signaling for me to sit.

I replace the edge of the stone tub and sit. I tightly grip the edge as she gets to the floor and sits back on her heels. Her fingers work to undo my leather boots, setting them side by side before removing my trousers.

I catch her chin, lifting her to stand with me as I realize where she is aiming to go.

She nears closer. “I want to touch you.”

Trails of fire are left behind her touch as she rubs from my chest, slowly replaceing her way lower, and lower, and lower.

My breath hitches in my chest; she is nearly there, her fingers push through the dark hair leading downward.

I smile, and I shake as I speak. “Not yet,” I reach down, lifting her from the floor. Her legs wrap around my waist, a kiss is pressed to my shoulder and up my neck as I step into the warmth of the water.

She sits between my legs and shadows of moonlight gleam over our skin.

There is a tear that glides down her cheek as she looks through the window. She quickly wipes it away, thinking I did not see it.

“Maivena.”

She says nothing. She stays cast to the window, looking outward.

I tilt my head, watching her.

She is fighting weakness that she could show. Her eyebrows furrow, concentrating on removing all sense of emotion.

“This is not what an Intimacy Arrangement is,” she finally says. “You are not supposed to be doing this for me. I am supposed to be doing this for you.”

I do not utter a word.

Grabbing her cheek, I pull her to look at me.

“An Intimacy Arrangement is not only about what you can do for me,” I say, “but what I can do for you. Every tear you shed is safe with me.”

Her eyes fill. I know she wants to fight them, but the tears fall. They fall like a gentle rain down my fingers. Rain that makes the growing garden between our soul’s flourish.

“You have the power to heal wounds, what of a soul?” She is barely audible.

There is a hollowness, a dark pain looking at the sorrow in her bosky eyes. “Your soul is yours to heal; I am only here to help it move.”