𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊

The Priestesses greeted us with a warm welcome, easing Saphira into her new environment. It was clear that she was much more comfortable in a place with no males.

She eagerly began her lessons, while I found solace in tasks assigned by Clotho—organizing books and managing paper work. It was a welcome distraction.

Saphira would find me deep in my work everyday after her lessons and gush about everything she learned that day. It warmed my heart.

I had also begun counseling sessions with Roslin, albeit reluctantly. It took time to open up, but in the past few months, my nightmares had been less frequent.

My brothers would drop in occasionally, when Clotho permitted them to, and when Saphira was in her lessons. They asked how I was doing, and I always told them I was fine. Even if it was a hard adjustment for me. I would do it for her.

Eve and Mor came by practically everyday, whining about how much they missed me. Even Johanna had come to visit.

They said they were proud of me. I wasn't used to those words, but they resonated deeply. The first time I had heard that was at sixteen from Rhysand's mother, Iridessa, after Luna's birth.

Her memory weighed on me. Stepping in to nurture Saphira reminded me of the female who had stepped in for me when no one else had.

It was difficult and painful, even five centuries later. But I knew she was looking down on me. And she'd be proud of me now, too.

The one thing we hadn't started yet was Saphira's counseling. And she desperately needed it. We had separate rooms, but she ended up in mine every night, after her persistent nightmares woke her up.

I had scheduled a session for her that afternoon. The struggle was convincing her to go.

Chaos erupted as I coaxed Saphira to leave her room, her screams echoing while she stubbornly anchored herself against the doorframe, sitting on the ground with her feet against it so I couldn't drag her out.

"Please, Saph, it's important," I pleaded, letting go of her hands. 

"I don't want to!" she yelled, her face scrunched up. 

"I know, but it will help you heal," I insisted. She shook her head stubbornly. "Please, Saph."

"No," she declined, crossing her arms.

"I know it's hard, trust me," I swore. "But it--"

     She shut her eyes, covered her ears, and began screaming a loud, shrill scream. Several of the Priestesses had gathered around to see what the commotion was.

I saw a blur of red hair out of the corner of my eye as Gwyn pushed her way through the others to get to the door.

Gwyn had arrived at the library just after I had gotten back from Under the Mountain. I had counseled her until I was taken by Demetri. Since then, I hadn't been able to counsel anybody.

Her story was heartbreaking, and always left me feeling awful for her after our sessions. But she was a sweet, compassionate girl. And despite what she'd been through, she could still laugh and smile.

She was very young for a High Fae, just a bit older than the Archeron girls. But what she'd been through was something nobody would be able to recover from easily, even if they had been alive a millennia.

     Gwyn entered the room, closing the door behind her so the rest of them weren't witnessing Saphie's breakdown.

     Gwyn knelt in front of the girl, and carefully took her wrists, moving her hands away from her ears. Saphira stopped screaming, and opened her tear-filled eyes.

"Hello, sweetheart," Gwyn said soothingly to her.

They had met before. Gwyn was fond of the girl, having worked with children for most of her life.

     I sat down on the floor next to Gwyn, both of us facing the ten year old girl who had tears streaming down her face.

"Tell her not to make me do this," Saphie sniffled.

"Why don't you want counseling, Saphira?" Gwyn asked the girl. She sniffled again, looking up at us with shame in her eyes.

"I don't want to talk about him," she whispered.

"You don't have to start off talking about him," Gwyn promised. "When I first started going, I would spend the whole session crying. Or screaming like you just were."

That was true. And I hadn't pushed her. I'd allowed her to get the sorrow, anger, and fear out. I knew how necessary it could be.

"Every female in this library has been through what you have," I told the girl. "And we all understand how you feel."

"But you're all grown ups," she explained. "You're so good at dealing with it."

"No, we aren't," I promised her, shaking my head. "We have all seen each other breaking down."

"That's true," Gwyn told her. "All of us. Some females have been here for centuries, and they still have bad days."

"I was your age when I went through . . . that for the first time," I told her. "And I didn't even get counseling until a few months ago." 

"If you went that long without counseling, why can't I?" she demanded. I sighed.

"I was scared, just like you are," I said. "I was ashamed of what happened to me, and I didn't want to talk about him. But getting counseling was the best decision I ever made. Truly, it has helped me."

"But you're still too scared to leave the library," she snapped.

    Her eyes widened after the words left her lips, and her hand flew to her mouth. Tears of guilt welled in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rae-Rae, I didn't mean it like that," she wailed, sobbing into her hands. I sighed, pulling her close to me and letting her cry on my shoulder.

"It's okay," I comforted. "I know you didn't mean that."

"Saph, you're allowed to have these feelings and fears," Gwyn told her, stroking her hair back. "No one is going to judge you. And no one will force you to do counseling, but we won't stop trying to convince you."

"You don't have to go today, baby," I decided, and instantly felt her relax in my arms. "But please, think about it."

Her eyes glistened as she retreated slightly, her gaze lifting to meet mine. I exhaled a gentle sigh, tenderly sweeping a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"You told me he's dead," she said.

"He is."

"So why does he still scare me so much?"

I pondered her question, my lips instinctively tightening. Cradling her face gently, I held her gaze with intention.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I feel the same way."

"All of us do," Gwyn added, a distant look in her teal eyes.

Once Saphira made her mind up, there was no swaying her. I decided that cheering her up and getting her mind off of Maison was the best thing to do.

"Why don't I have Azriel bring us some ice cream," I offered. She perked up a bit, though tears were still falling. "Strawberry?"

"Yes, please," she sniffled, nodding. I smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.