Born of Flames

Chapter 14 ~ Disappointing Endeavors

Just as Morana promised, she brought all of the books and papers they'd been studying upstairs. She refused to let Tarion help again until he'd rested at least two hours however, and those two hours turned into three when he ended up sleeping so deeply that she was unable to wake him.

That night, rather than suffer through endless hours of nightmares and sleeplessness in their dark bedroom, they dragged pillows and blankets out on the nearest balcony and slept there. Morana was still plagued by the vision of herself crumbling into ash, but at least when she woke, there were stars and moonlight overhead to soothe her.

And to her relief, Tarion had been asleep, seemingly free from nightmares of his own. She'd spent far too long just tracing her fingers over his relaxed features, pausing only if he stirred. When she finally drifted off again, her fingers were clasped through his.

They still were that morning when she woke again. She'd drawn Tarion's hand closer to her face and her breath touched his knuckles a heartbeat before her lips did. Tarion's eyes opened, half-lidded and hazy with drowsiness.

He smoothed hair away from his brow with his free hand, then nestled his face back in the crook of his elbow. He shifted so that he was laying on his stomach, his bare back facing the morning sunlight. Morana propped herself up on her elbows and bent closer, brushing her lips across his shoulder.

Her gaze flickered to the brutal scar spanning the length of his spine and her stomach clenched. It didn't matter how many times she saw it; it still caught her off guard. She'd done her best to try to fade the scar, but there was no magic that could erase the harshness of it.

Even the healing waters of the well at Oriana's Pavilion hadn't. The water had purged the wound of infection and aided the healing process, but nothing more. She never saw the scar as disfiguring, though she knew he did. She saw it as a mark of his survival. A mark of his freedom.

When they first met, Tarion had always been so careful to keep her from seeing his bare back. He hadn't wanted her to see the black mark, like a two-point compass needle, that bound him to Astaroth and forced him to bow to his will. It had been Astaroth who severed the brand from his skin and left the wound raw as another form of torture.

Flames licked at her fingers at the thought. Morana exhaled silently and curled her fingers into a fist, extinguishing the flames. A faint breeze ruffled her hair before drifting to Tarion's, coaxing him to lift his head again.

"You actually slept some more," Morana said. "I think we'll keep sleeping out here."

Tarion smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "What about you?"

"The dream still came, but I didn't wake in a panic and I was able to fall back asleep, so that's something." Her own smile widened as Tarion slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He kissed her forehead before hiding his face in her hair.

"Being out here helped," she added. "It reminded me of how we'd sleep outside when we first began traveling together. I think I've missed it more than I realized."

"Me too." He straightened, but didn't pull away from her. "What's the plan for today then?"

"We can either keep looking through the books and papers, or we can try exploring the palace further."

He arched a brow. "Exploring?"

"The Wisp told us to look below, remember? I think we should investigate every possible interpretation of that, including searching the lower chambers of the palace."

Morana pursed her lips as Tarion's gaze dulled and shadows etched across his face. "I don't expect you to go back down to the dungeons with me. I'll wait until Arlon and Neeri arrive. Arlon and I can search down there while you and Neeri keep studying up here."