21. Kristina

21

KRISTINA

Blind panic.

I was alone in thick, suffocating darkness, my fingernails cracking and splintering as I clawed at the rough wood of the door. If I focused hard enough, strained my eyes, maybe they’d adjust. Maybe I’d at least be able to see something. But there was no light at all in this place. Nothing except rough wood and cold stone. I was gasping, hyperventilating—

And then there was something warm. Big hands, cupping my shoulders. A voice that didn’t belong to them, low and rough and yet sweet like honey. A voice I recognized. “Your Highness!”

But the fear had me. I was a scared girl locked in a tiny room—

“ Kristina!”

My eyes opened. The lights were off, but after the darkness of the nightmare, the moonlight streaming in through the window made it seem like noon. It silhouetted Garrett as he hunkered down over my bed, his chest only a foot from mine, his lips inches away.

“Nightmare,” he told me. But he didn’t say it was only a nightmare, like my mother would have. He said it with the sympathy of someone who knew their power. He said it with his voice choked with anger and worry at what I was going through.

And suddenly I was clinging to him, my arms wrapped around him, my body pressed to his. My back was up off the bed and I hung from him, but he took my weight easily, not budging even an inch. He just pressed his stubbled cheek to my neck and held me tight.

But even he couldn’t change the past and the memories were still owning me, wrapping around me like tendrils and tugging me down into the darkness. It wasn’t okay because it really happened, it could happen again oh God, if we go to war, it could happen again— I could still feel the horrific closeness of the stone walls around me and it made me want to scream. I was panting, sweating, breathing so hard I was barely aware of the tears running down my cheeks.

My body was tight against him, but it wasn’t sexual: this was far beyond that. I needed him . I just knew, on a gut level, that he was the one person who could protect me. And he was the one person who’d understand what fear like this was like. He’d understand that I was so scared I couldn’t move or speak. He’d understand that he had to get me out of it because I couldn’t on my own.

And he did.

Those big hands scooped me up and cradled me like a child and then we were walking through the bedroom door and out into the hallway. I heard someone step aside—Emerik? —but Garrett ignored him, just kept walking, carrying me as if I weighed nothing. Down the stairs. Out of the back door and into….

I drew in my breath as the cool night air hit us. I was soaked in sweat, the thin nightgown plastered to my body, and it should have felt freezing. But just being in the open air, able to breathe again, felt so good. And he didn’t allow me to become cold: his thick biceps pressed into me and his strong chest was like a warm wall against me. It was better, but I still couldn’t stop panting, couldn’t shake the fear’s grip.

I could hear the scrunch of him plodding through the grass. I knew the wound on his leg must be hurting him, but his stride never faltered. We passed a big building to one side: a barn? And then we came to a long, low building. No lights were on inside. Where was he taking me?

He shifted me to one arm while he opened the door, then carried me inside. “I know what you need,” he muttered, and took me further into the gloom.

He gently let me down and I felt straw under my bare feet, scratchy and soft. In the moonlight I could just make out a big, rounded shape in front of us. What’s... Where’s he brought me?

He took my hand in his and guided it. My palm touched soft hair and then a solid, warm body. A body that shifted under my touch. And then I heard it snort and toss its head.

Horses.