Weight of the World

Chapter Seventy-Nine

—Tregaar—

There was nothing she could have done, Idelle knew. She had answered Osric's call for help almost as soon as she heard it. Running straight to Hubert, she had explained the distress in Osric's voice, and her lover hadn't needed anything more to convince him to take them both away to Andavaran. But despite their quick response, they hadn't appeared at Osric's side as they were intended to. Instead, something had thrown them off, sending them further into the Crooked Forest. And then, once they had located the direction they needed to head, a wall of blue fire, summoned by Kellaran, barred their way, ensuring they arrived too late.

Several days had come and gone since, but still, Idelle was unable to pull herself out of her sorrow. Fjola had been a dear friend, one who had always been there to offer her advice and support whenever Idelle needed it. Losing her hurt enough, but the way in which they lost her—

A knock on her door made Idelle jump. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she glanced nervously at the door. She hadn't spoken much to anyone since they had burned Fjola's body. How could she when she knew the murderer? But the first knock was followed swiftly by another, and Idelle knew she couldn't simply ignore her visitor. It was late at night, and there was only one who would come to visit her at such an hour, one who was concerned about her. She had barely eaten since the encounter in the Crooked Forest, and she could already imagine what awaited her behind that closed door.

True to form, as she opened it, she found Hubert standing there, a tray of food balanced on one hand. He made no flashy show of it, offered no witty remark, or even a small smile. His brow was knitted, pain and worry swimming in his gaze as he looked at her.

"You need to eat," was all he said.

It was such a very Hubert thing to say, practical and straightforward, just as he had always been. There was nothing grand about this gesture, nothing overly sincere, just a simply worry. But seeing him worried about her, seeing him come to her door night after night to ensure she took care of herself, it finally pierced the ice that had encased her heart since Fjola's death. Finally, after days of holding it all in, Idelle felt her tears finally slip down her cheeks, a tired and quiet sob escaping her that had him swiftly entering her room, locking the door behind him, and placing the tray on a nearby table in the blink of an eye.

Idelle wasn't certain who reached for who first. All she knew was that suddenly they were gripping each other tightly, and he was stealing the very breath from her lungs as they fell backwards onto her bed. They were a tangled mess of limbs, each of them fighting for dominance as they sought solace in each other's arms. Yet despite that desperation, Idelle felt the reverence in Hubert's roving touch, felt his love and desire for her so clearly that it brought new tears to her eyes.

She didn't deserve this happiness. She had allowed a friend to die, her magic not strong enough to break through Kellaran's fire in time. Fjola was dead and gone, Osric left behind to bear that pain for the rest of his life while she was allowing Hubert to love her. She didn't deserve this, but she wouldn't let it go. She wanted to be closer, to allow Hubert to claim all of her until she could, for a little while at least, forget the pain that pierced her chest.

It was just wishful thinking, of course. The pain never really left her. Even hours later, as she lay curled on her side, facing Hubert, the pair tracing invisible patterns along each other's skin, she still felt the loss of her friend. She could see that pain reflected in Hubert's eyes. But even though the pain wasn't gone, the ache in her chest eased, knowing that he didn't hate her for her ineptitude.