A Touch of Death

Chapter 35

Aoife and Tarran returned to the manor the very next day.

She was thankful he'd opted to skip the last day of the proceedings, partly because they were able to slip off quietly. No one bothered them as they loaded their trunks and the carriage rattled away towards home.

At the time, Aoife wondered when she'd begun to think of the manor as home, but the truth was that it wasn't the estate. It was Tarran. Tarran was her home, and every passing second increased the risk that she could lose him.

To break the spell, someone you have harmed, someone who owes you a debt, and someone who loves you must exchange their life for yours of their own free will. Death for life. Balance restored.

Aoife had memorized the conditions for breaking the curse. In the three days since their return, she'd slowly poured over it countless times, wondering if there was any kind of loophole. the wording was simple enough that she thought there should be one, but the problem was that it wouldn't be an easy one to execute.

A list of painstakingly scrawled and then angrily scratched out ideas sat beside her, the parchment smudged from tears and writing and sheer frustration. There was only one that hadn't been crossed out, and she wasn't certain it would be possible to find anyone who filled the conditions.

Tarran wouldn't want to kill anyone. He'd been working this long to avoid having to kill anyone in an effort to break the curse, not to mention that the sacrifice had to be of their own free will. That was the trick, in the end, but Aoife thought she might have found a way around it.

With her magic, it was technically possible to trade life forces between two people. Technically. She'd never tried it, and Aoife was admittedly uncertain that it was possible without using herself as a conduit, but it was worth a shot if they could find three people to fulfill the conditions. All she had to do was coax a little of Tarran's life force into someone else and a little of theirs into Tarran, assuming they freely agreed to the process and fit the conditions...

Aoife screamed in frustration, the sound echoing around the library. Stubborn she might be, but it felt like every ounce of her willpower had gone into finding ways out of this, and it was almost enough to snap her resolve.

Tears pricking at her eyes, she rested her head on the desk in front of her and just tried to breathe. She couldn't break down. There wasn't time. Maybe... maybe if she talked to Tarran, if she brought Camilla into the equation. Then they would only need one more person. Maybe they could somehow split the three conditions between themselves.

Slow, deliberate footsteps sounded in the corridor outside the open library doors. A sharp burst of shame settled in her chest as she realized he'd undoubtedly heard her frustrated outburst, but she was too exhausted to move as the footsteps drew closer.

By the time a warm hand came to rest on her back, Aoife's mind was blank. The frustration and exhaustion and fear crept into her bones, and she couldn't find a way to shake it.

"It's time for bed, Aoife," Tarran said gently.

"I can't sleep. Too much to do."

"You know, I never thought that was the habit you'd pick up from me," he sighed. "Come on. Let's go."

With a soft huff, Aoife stood from her chair, put out the lamp, and walked after Tarran towards his room. She was tired, and he knew it. As much as she wanted to keep going, she'd wind up falling asleep at the desk at this rate... just like Tarran had so many times.

Maybe he really was rubbing off on her more than she knew. That was fine, though. It had been a long, long time since she was close enough to anyone to pick up their habits.

When they finally made it to Tarran's room, there was already a fire in the hearth. It was warmer than the library, and the pleasant heat made her want to relax. She slipped off the heavy cloak she'd been wearing in the library, toed off her shoes, and walked towards her side of the massive canopy bed.

There was a line of pillows down the middle of Tarran's bed, dividing it exactly in two. It wasn't much, but it was enough that they wouldn't roll into each other in the middle of the night. Aoife still found it difficult to sleep without being in the same room as him, waking up nearly every hour to make sure he was still breathing. Even staying in the same room, she woke up frequently. The thought of waking only to find he'd succumbed to the curse was too much for her to bear.

"Do we have to put the pillows there?" Aoife grumbled, punching one of them lightly as she yanked the blankets over her legs. She could touch people now. Not only that, it was easier every day to remain calm, to let her magic know they weren't in danger, to work in tandem with the power to live a life that was good for her.

Tarran insisted on the pillows, though. He said it was safer for her to have a barrier.

"If you touch me in your sleep, I don't know how your magic might react without your consciousness to pull back. I won't risk it."

Considering he was letting her sleep in his room, she thought it best to let him win this debate. Aoife didn't mind the barrier so long as she could wake up and hear that he was still breathing, so long as she knew that if anything terrible happened, she was right beside him.

"Will you let me heal you a little before you sleep?" she asked softly, reaching her hand over the pillow barrier.

"... Will it help you sleep if you do?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. Tarran reached out and grabbed her hand, and Aoife let her magic work.

It didn't work without touch, they'd discovered. While she could drain the life force from nearby living things without touching them, that had only happened when she was in emotional distress. She hadn't figured out how to intentionally use her magic on anything without making contact.

As soon as their hands touched, Aoife's magic sparked to life. It was like it recognized Tarran by now, knew that it was given momentary permission to hunt and feed on the darkness inside him. Life and death. Balance. Cycles. Forces eternally chasing each other round and round until the end of all things.

"That's enough," Tarran said, pulling his hand away. Aoife pouted, but she didn't try to reach for him again. The boundaries between them were delicate, especially with Tarran's future on the line. She wanted to respect his wishes, but refused to let him die.

At least this way she knew he would survive at least until morning, and that gave her the sense of comfort she needed to relax a little. It was only a stall mechanism, but it was better than nothing.

What she didn't tell him was that her power left her a little lightheaded each time, a little more tired each time. She wasn't sure if the curse was beating her back or if her magic insisted upon unfurling with more and more intensity every time she let it run loose, but she was starting to feel the impact.

Tarran said she'd been siphoning life force off of everything and everyone she touched for years, though. Surely she had more than enough stored up to spare. Surely it was just that the magic was overwhelming, that she was coming into her power, that it took time getting used to...

Surely.