Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Fifty Seven: Compromised

Nova broke into consciousness as if resurfacing from deep water, gasping and damp. The cold touch on her forehead that had woken her moved, and left her skin even colder than before. She stared blindly into darkness for a moment, willing her heartbeat to slow down and her vision to clear. Already the nightmare was fading, leaving a sick, trembling weakness behind.

"These nightmares are getting worse, aren't they?" The cold touch returned, and Nova dimly realised it was a wet cloth. She angled her head to see Grace's worried face looming over her, half-concealed in shadow.

She still didn't trust herself to speak. Grace pressed the cloth to her neck and then each temple, smoothing knotty hair back from her damp cheeks. She hoped she hadn't been crying and that it was just sweat, but enough of her dream lingered to make that hope seem a vain one.

Nova reached up and touched Grace's face, suddenly desperate for contact, any kind of contact that didn't hurt. She wanted physical touch that wasn't meant to humiliate or injure, from someone who didn't see her as a belonging. As always, Grace got the message instantly. She was getting faster at knowing what Nova wanted without her having to say anything, until it was almost second nature. The nights she spent 'guarding' Grace had only hastened that familiarity. They could have whole conversations with touch alone. Sometimes Nova was gripped with a terror like she stood on a precipice, about to fall and lose everything. Her head constantly ached from protecting Grace's thoughts as well as she knew how to, and studying how to do it better at times when she was at less risk. It was a full time job, but she didn't resent it. It alarmed her how easily she had become accustomed to Grace being around all the time.

Not that it had all been smooth sailing. In the weeks since the Caelumese delegation's arrival, Grace had grown more and more restless, only alleviated by the limited duties Jan allowed her and by visits from Nika. More than once she had taken her frustration out on Nova, and apologised later in the hours when the castle slept.

Now, she discarded her cloth and sank down beside Nova, her mouth trailing the curve of her neck and her body pressed perfectly into the contours of Nova's. One hand moved to her back, unerringly finding the place at the base of her wing-stumps that caused her the most pain when she was stressed. Gently massaging it, her other hand trailed to Nova's thigh. As her trembling calmed, Nova turned to meet her kiss.

"I wish we could have this all the time," Grace murmured, her breath hot on Nova's lips. She pressed another kiss to them to stifle the words. She didn't want to ruin this with the truth. When they broke apart, the girl sighed inaudibly. Only Nova, pressed so close, would have known she sighed at all. "I love you."

She had said this once before, on another night soon after Harkenn had assigned Nova this task. That time, she had ruined it by panicking. They hadn't spoken the next night, and pretended it hadn't happened at all the night after that. This time, she forced herself to remain still and calm.

"It's okay," Grace said. Nova's heart sank; she couldn't conceal her fear completely. "You don't need to say it back. I just want you to know."

It's so soon, Nova thought frantically. Too soon for that.

Though, she added snidely to herself, how would she know if it was too soon? Months could sometimes bring about the change of years, and the dark season always felt as though it stretched time immeasurably, while at the same time compressing it. Her only experience of love was Jeorge, which had been untrue and disappointing in the end. Her father had died long before she was considering such things herself, and her mother hadn't ever spoken of it. Her uncle used women without thought, and discarded them like items of clothing when they inevitably failed to give him an heir. Who was she to decide whether Grace was moving too fast?