26. Saoirse

Saoirse

A noise at the top of the stairs startled me, my heart leaping into my throat as I heard the steady thud of what could only be Vane's footsteps. I tried to hide the razor behind me, but it wouldn't do me any good. Heavy footfalls descended the staircase, and Vane appeared in the archway, his expression shifting from concern to shock as he took in the scene before him.

I'd gone much too deep, and rivulets of blood had trailed from the cuts, creating a small crimson pool beneath me. I'd forgotten he was here in my panic.

"Saoirse?" His voice was laced with alarm as he rushed to my side. "What the hell happened?"

I couldn't meet his eyes, my shame too overwhelming. No one had ever seen me in this state, not even Xan. Vane was the last person I wanted to see me so vulnerable. I didn't know where our relationship stood, but I'm sure being the emotionally unstable girl who cuts herself was not doing me any favors. " I... I couldn't."

Vane's gaze fell on the blood, the razor still partially visible from where I'd tried to hide it. His jaw tightened, something dark flashing across his face. "You did this to yourself?" His voice was louder now, edged with a panic I hadn't expected.

Tears blurred my vision again as I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "I can't handle it. This is too much."

Vane knelt beside me, his hands trembling as he inspected my ankle. The urge to pull it out of his grasp was strong, but I stayed frozen, not sure how to react to someone seeing the darkest part of myself.

"This isn't the way to deal with this, Saoirse," he said, his voice breaking. If I didn't know any better, I would say he looked hurt. "You can't hurt yourself like this. You can't."

"I didn't know what else to do," I sobbed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Father knows about Jephyr, they found the body and he knows I had something to do with it. When he finds out, he's going to kill me. Or kill you. I can't let that happen."

He let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a sob and a growl as he reached for the back of my head, pushing my face into his shoulder. His strong arms wrapped around me, the heat of his body a comfort against the chill that seemed to permeate every cell in my body. One hand threaded in my hair, while the other began rubbing slow circles into my back. "We'll figure it out. Together. But not like this."

I clung to him, my body trembling as the sobs wracked me. "I'm so scared, Vane. I thought I was free of all this, of him."

Vane's grip tightened, his breath shaky as he tried to steady himself. "You don't have to go through this alone. I'm here, Xan is here. Maeve, too. We'll figure it out, and once we're done, you can go anywhere in the world that you want. You don't have to stay in Lanthus forever. There is a whole world out there that you haven't explored."

"There are not a lot of places in the world where someone like me can survive," I said sourly, hiccupping for air as my tears began to slow .

"There are humans all over Amaris that don't have magic, and they get by. If they can, so can you. Don't let the only thing holding you back be yourself." I remained silent, the stubbornness in me wanting to argue, to tell him he had no idea what he was talking about. But the more I considered it, the more I realized that I was actually the one that didn't understand.

He'd likely seen many parts of the world, and I'd only seen this one place. I'd let them clip my wings and stuff me into this chest that I had the key to open, if I could just find the courage.

"I need you to promise me something." Vane's voice rumbled beneath my cheek, his chest rustling me slightly with every breath.

"Promise me you'll never do this again. No matter how bad things get, promise me you'll come to me first," he said, his voice thick with emotion. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was fear. "I can't lose you like this, Saoirse."

The intensity in his gaze was almost unbearable as he pulled back, lifting my chin slightly to look at him. The pain in his voice echoed, hanging over my head like an anvil.

"I promise," I lied, feeling the weight of my words settle heavy between us. My deception weighed on my heart as I stared at him. He wouldn't be around long enough to see me fall apart again.

Vane's eyes searched mine, unreadable as I was swallowed by their depths. He seemed to sense the fragility of the promise I'd made him, but he didn't call me on it. "Good," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. He held me for a while longer, a steady anchor in the turbulent sea that had calmed inside of me, until the numbness began to creep back in. Not the comforting kind that dulled the pain, but one that left me feeling hollow, exhausted.

Eventually, Vane helped me to my feet, his arm steadying me as I wobbled. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said softly. I winced as my skin tugged around the already clotting wounds .

Without another word, Vane scooped me into his arms, cradling me against his chest as if I was the most fragile thing in the world. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder, the steady beat of his heart a soothing rhythm against my ear. His heady scent warmed me as I inhaled deeply.

He carried me up the narrow stairs to the small, meager bathroom. The light was dim, casting soft shadows across the worn tiles and chipped sink. Gently, Vane set me down on the edge of the small counter, his hands lingering on my thighs as if to make sure I wouldn't fall.

He rummaged through the small cabinet, pulling out a small first-aid kit I kept stocked, mostly to help when I accidentally almost chopped my finger off. His movements were methodical, with practiced precision and focus that made me wonder just how many times he'd had to play the caretaker for someone.

He knelt in front of me, his eyes soft as they looked up at me. "This is going to sting a bit," he warned, wetting a cloth with a disinfectant solution that was probably expired. I didn't comment on the irony of telling me my self-inflicted wounds would hurt.

The antiseptic bit into my skin, but Vane's touch was gentle, his fingers steady as he wiped away the blood and cleaned the wounds. They had mostly stopped bleeding, but it would be a few days before I could stop worrying about them splitting open as I moved. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He glanced up at me, serious. "You're not alone. I'm here for you, if you'll let me be."

His words made me uncomfortable, even as a warmth spread through me that the antiseptic couldn't touch. "No one has ever seen me like this," I admitted, my voice shaking. "I'm used to having to figure everything out on my own. This is... new."

Vane's gaze held mine, something more than just eye contact passing between us. "I'm not going anywhere. "

"Aren't you though? You know you can't stay here forever."

We both knew that the second we found the shard, he'd go back to his people and I'd probably never see him again. My father would still be king, and Vane would still be a Darkwing.

Silence settled between us as he continued to clean and bandage my wounds. The soft rustle of the bandages, and the rhythmic sound of our breathing created a cocoon of calm around us. A calm I never wanted to be disturbed. In these moments, our souls were quiet.

"Why do you care so much?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. I wasn't sure he cared about me, really, but it seemed like he did. There were not many men I knew who would clean my wounds and be capable enough to offer emotional support. "You barely know me."

Vane paused, looking up at me with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. "I know enough," he said softly. "Enough to tell me that you are a good person, and a person who deserves to live. There is fire in you, and strength, even if you don't see it yourself. Shadows surround you, but they can't control you."

His words slithered around my heart, squeezing tightly. "But you'll leave," I whispered, my voice trembling. His hands had stilled, no longer concerned with my ankle, which had already been expertly wrapped, the tight bandage nearly cutting off my circulation. "Once we get that shard, you'll go home, and I'll be stuck here. Alone."

Vane's jaw tightened, and he placed a gentle hand on my thigh as he stared at me, but he said nothing. We both knew it was true.

"You don't have to be chained here," he finally said, his voice earnest. "You could make a life for yourself anywhere."

My breath hitched. "And go where? Do what? I'm a witch without powers. A princess without a kingdom. What could I possibly have to contribute? I am lucky they let me stay in Lanthus." I spat it like a curse, taking liberties with the definition of the word lucky .

"Anything," Vane insisted, conviction burning in his eyes. "You are so much more than this box you try to fit yourself in. Don't let this place define you."

His words were like a balm against my wounded spirit, bolstering a confidence I didn't really possess. "And what about us?" I asked, letting the words tumble out of me before I had the chance to stop them, to really consider if I wanted to hear his answer. "What happened in the wellspring… It was a mistake, wasn't it?"

A flash of hurt, a hint of anger shuttered his face before he reined it in, the split second of emotion falling behind his iron expression. "You will never be a mistake to me," his voice firm, almost angry. "But we can't—"

"Why not?" I interrupted, the desperation in my voice surprising even me.

He sighed, looking away for a moment before meeting my eyes again, filled with unspoken truths. "Because I'm a Darkwing, and you are a Lightlace. Because if your father knew I was alive, that I was here, I'd be dead in the next breath. It's better for everyone if we part ways once this is over. I won't be the reason you get hurt."

Reality crashed around me, and I cursed my soft self for even getting hopeful in the first place. I barely knew Vane, and yet here I had been, getting overly attached to a man that only saw me as a means to an end. "So we're supposed to just pretend nothing happened?"

"It's too dangerous—for both of us," he said softly, a pained look on his face.

I wanted to argue, wanted to rush forward and capture his lips with mine as I took him to my bed, but I couldn't let myself be the reason he got killed. The less reasons I gave my father to look in Vane's direction, the better. His eyes locked on mine as he rose to his feet, only a few inches from my face but he made no move to get closer.

Maybe, once we'd figured everything out, we could see where the dust settled. The thought of leaving Lanthus scared me more than any nightmare I had dreamt up so far, and yet beneath all that fear, buried in the darkest corner of myself, a tiny wish flared to life.