I opened my mouth to say something when a knock on the bathroom door sent me jumping. Ilyan calmed me before opening the door just enough to look out while still keeping me out of sight.
“Yes?” Ilyan asked, his voice level.
“He said it took about a week to adjust, but he’s not sure what was done, so it may take longer.” Thom’s voice was quiet on the other side of the door.
“Was it this bad?”
“No,” Thom said, “but you know how Ryland was raised… she’s not used to that.”
I screamed, my eyes darting around at the mention of his name. My pulse picked up again and Ilyan’s magic flared in an attempt to calm me.
“No,” I moaned, “no, no, no.”
“Jos,” Ilyan soothed, “It’s okay. He’s not here.”
“He…h…he’s g...going t…to f-f-find me. Hurt, hurt, hurt me.” I instinctively began clawing at my shoulder, the warmth of Ilyan’s magic triggering my learned response.
“No, mi lasko, no. I’m not going to let that happen, remember? Remember it wasn’t really Ryland in the T?uha.”
“I—i-it wa…was him. P-p-pain. No, no m…more.”
Ilyan’s magic flared aggressively, causing my consciousness to dip enough for me to get a grip on my panic. Ilyan grabbed my hand, holding tight as he rubbed his thumb over my skin.
I saw Ilyan’s jaw clench. I tightened my shoulders, expecting Ryland to burst through the door.
“What else is it, Thom?”
“He’s asking to see her again.” Thom’s voice was laced with more worry than I had ever heard.
“No.” Ilyan said, his tone making it clear he did not want to elaborate.
“When?” Thom asked, although I was sure he didn’t care.
“A week, a month, maybe never. I don’t know. You heard what happened when you said his name. I’m not sure what I am looking at here yet.” Ilyan looked at me and I looked away.
“Well make it snappy, we spotted two more camps this morning….”
“I know, Thom,” Ilyan interrupted, making it obvious he was hiding something. I simply didn’t care.
“Are those for her?” Ilyan asked, gesturing to something that I couldn’t see.
“Oh yeah, I brought quite a few with me now, in case she breaks some.” Thom brought a tray with about five mugs of Black Water into the room, Ilyan scowling at him as he looked toward me. His eyes widened at seeing me there, against the toilet.
“Hi, T…T…Thom.” I tried to sound as normal as I could, but still couldn’t keep the stutter out of my voice.
“Hey, Siln?,” he said, a deep vein of pity lining his voice.
In his eagerness to spy, he dropped the tray a little fast and one of the corners snapped against the tile floor before Ilyan could catch it.
I jerked so fast my head slammed into the side of the sink, my hands coming up to cover my ears, as I began to rock back and forth, Ilyan’s song humming on my lips.
“Good Gravy!” I heard Thom exclaim, “What did he do to her?”
“Out, Thom!” Ilyan roared as Thom left, the door clicking a little too loudly behind him.
I groaned out my panic and pulled my head down into my knees. Ilyan’s magic surging through me as he put me back to sleep.
Thirty-Six
I woke in Ilyan’s arms, rejoicing at the return of something that could now be described as normal. I moved into him before the panic could start, pressing my face into his chest. His smell made me light headed in a pleasant, comforting way. I hadn’t remembered Ilyan having a smell, especially one as strong as this. Was the smell new, or had I chosen not to acknowledge it until now?
I pressed closer to him, my cheek pressing against the scars that crisscrossed his skin; wildflowers and smoke. I breathed deeply, flinching when Ilyan’s arms tightened around me. I tried to focus on staying still, on staying sane, but it didn’t seem to be working.
His touch triggered my spasms, my fear. I knew it wasn’t him, it was any touch. Anyone would give me the same reaction.
Ilyan seemed to sense my increased heart rate, his magic calming me instantly.
“Joclyn?” I leaned into him more, focusing on his magic, focusing on the calm I so desperately wanted.
“Are you okay?” His chin brushed against the hair on the top of my head, his arms holding me tighter.
I nodded my head in response, knowing that I would stutter if I talked and not wanting to. If only I could talk into his mind like I could send pictures. He must have accepted my answer. His hand loosened its hold and moved to smooth my hair, sweeping rhythmically over my head. His song hummed against the top of my head, where his lips pressed against my skin.
His song.
I sighed at the tune, sung by the person I wanted to hear it from more than anyone else in the world. I could feel his lips turn up in response to my reaction, but he did not move, his song strong and consistent.
We stayed like that for longer than could have been deemed normal, but I could have stayed there much longer. With his arms around me and the song replaying consistently, I could feel the feelings of panic and despair leaving me.
I could feel normal.