The Knights of Aragon

Chapter 41

I don't know how long I stay silent and unresponsive but by the time I do, the sun is at its worst. Its heat sears into my skin, but the pain isn't as bad as the pain carved into my heart. I hear Gawain raises his voice at someone somewhere and said someone exclaims back. My face feels dry, my eyes sting, and my mind seems to have separated from the rest of me. No, I'm not ready. I'm not ready to face this day. When Gideon died, I wasn't given the chance to grieve. To mourn his death. Why can't I sit and just be sad? Why can't I get the time? A soothing touch grazes my hand, begging me to wake up. My eyes move to the comforting intrusion. Rhydian's thumb invisibly draws a circle around a cluster of freckles that has gotten darker since leaving Stormhold. Even my own body has secrets that it has kept hidden from me. "What are you doing?" Rhydian's thumb stills for just a moment before continuing. "Waiting," he answers me.

I raise my eyes his. The blue hue making my heart skip a beat. I downturn the corner of my mouth in disappointment. Not at him, but in myself. "For what, Rhydian?" I snatch my hand away from his grasp. He doesn't react, though. He tilts his head to side, giving me a small smile. I look away. Gawain's yelling has died down and now everyone is quiet. They probably heard me wake up. "I'm waiting to see what you'll do next." I stare off into the distance. "And I'll follow. I'll follow you, Val. Always." I scoff and turn back to him. "What is wrong with you, Rhydian?" He blinks at me, confused. "I mean, what you doing? Here? With me?" Rhydian opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off. "No," I get up, creating distance between us, "how can you sit here and comfort me like this? How can you look at me?"

Rhydian doesn't react to outburst, rather he sits quietly waiting for me to finish. "Why aren't you afraid of me, Rhydian?" My voice falls flat. "Why aren't you running away from me? Don't you see what I am?" Rhydian stands, sighing in the process. "I do see you," he grabs my shoulders, "Trust me when I say, I have always and will forever see you." I shake my head in disbelief. "Then why aren't you afraid?" He leans in close, our foreheads touching. "Because I knew, Val," he caresses my cheek, "I knew from the moment I saw you who you are." I blink at his confession. All our moments together flash in my mind. One after the other. His knowing smiles, his attentiveness. "How? How could you possibly know?" My voice trembles.

"I saw you at the safe haven once. Way back when," he grins at the memory he's remembering, "You were older than me then, probably about a year or so. Val, you passed me by while I was doing my chores as a trainee. Your beautiful ginger hair was separated into three braids and your eyes were lined with black kohl. Even from afar, I could tell the world had ripped you apart. I saw your anger, your grief, your despair. But even in that moment, with all the broken bits and the image you were projecting, I found you incredibly beautiful and strong and powerful." Tears silently fall from my eyes at his words. I try to remember that day. I so desperately want to remember, but I can't. I wish I could understand what I went through for me to change so drastically. Maybe I lost everything, and I couldn't gain it back. "How could you be so sure that that was me? It could've been anyone." He laughs, flashing his beautiful smile. Gods help me. "I didn't. When I saw you through the mirror, I couldn't believe it. You looked exactly the same, a bit younger but still. But your eyes were different. They were alive." I cringe as I remember the state I was in when I stood in front of that mirror. Beaten and bruised. My clothes all torn and grimy. Not to mention, the torn flesh at my abdomen and that secreting puss. "I knew for a fact it was you when I saw your Inferno blade. I saw it strapped on your waist when I first saw you. You were ready for war, like a goddess readying for a hunt." I can't imagine myself the way he describes me.

At least now I can say that once upon a time, in one of my many lives, I was like a goddess. Strong and courageous. Admired and liked. Deep down, though, I know that's not the whole truth. I try and try to remember that day. I pry my mind to give me that memory, but to no avail. I can't remember. "I don't remember you. I'm sorry." He tucks my flyways behind my ears. "That doesn't matter," he wipes my tears away, "because I do. I saw you."