EMRYS

A BITTER CHILL WROUGHT Emrys' spine as he pushed through the back door of the tavern. Maybe it had been the warmth of Nectar sliding down his throat or the smoke from his roll that kept the bitter air from being too much, but he wished he could stop it from piercing him with icy tendrils. Ever since Darkness silenced the sun, the temperature had plummeted from the sticky humidity of that afternoon.

He cursed under his breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. There would be no warming himself with magic, not in the weakened state he had succumbed to.

One by one, his powers slipped through his fingers, taunting him with what used to be.

Even descending the Sanctum stairs made his legs tremble. As he leaned upon the stone walls, he considered sending a thought up to Mystia to help stabilize him before he tumbled down the remaining steps, but the thought of her watering eyes kept him from doing so.

Emrys tried to put it out of his mind as he finally made his way through the common room and into the hall. A thin stream of light reflected on the wall, drawing his attention to the cracked-open door at the end of the corridor.

At least Eva was still awake.

He stifled a yawn while he approached the door to his room. Maybe Mystia was right. Sleep would do more good than he cared to admit, and his eyelids were getting awfully heavy. But, before he could turn the knob, the soft sound of sniffling stopped him. He craned his neck to glance back at Eva's door, where the noise slipped through the air so quietly he wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for midnight's stillness.

Emrys padded quietly down the hall and peeked through the crack in her door.

Concern gripped his chest. Eva was the picture of misery, huddled against the headboard with her knees drawn tightly to her chest. The novel she had been reading lay discarded at the foot of her bed, pages crumpled from being thrown hastily to its resting spot.

The moment Emrys pushed open the door, she peeled her face away from her pants and stared at him with red-rimmed eyes. Stray tears snaked down her cheeks, trailing in paths made by their counterparts.

Slowly, her gaze traveled his arm, where it landed on the graying skin.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "I... did I do that?"

Emrys flinched. "You didn't do anything."

If it was hard for him to believe his own words, he couldn't imagine how Eva felt. When her lower lip quivered, he snatched the flannel button-down he'd tied around his waist and slipped it on to cover his arm. Nothing could conceal the gray flesh on his hand, but at least the worst of his injury would be hidden.

"But, my vision—"

"Whatever that vision was, whatever is going on... it isn't your fault. Don't beat yourself up."

The way her eyes fell to the floor told him she wouldn't listen. Emrys wanted nothing more than to sit down and wrap his arms around her—anything to bring her peace. Deep inside, he knew what it was like to feel such a level of guilt. The thought of it eating away at her made him sick.

Still, as his mind flashed back to Faeran's house and the black pools her eyes had become, he couldn't bring himself to move. Fear was never an emotion he expected to feel toward her, especially in such a moment of weakness.

Eva was cracking. Just her hollow gaze revealed how much more broken she was than she let on.

"I can stay awake with you, if you'd like," he said.

Eva shook her head. "You need your rest."

"I've heard that already." Emrys laughed half-heartedly. "I know you feel bad, but you shouldn't be alone tonight. It would help to have some company."

Eva pulled her knees closer to her chest.

Defeat hung over his head, and he nodded solemnly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Leaving was the last thing he wanted, but with the weary look in her eyes, he knew sticking around would only upset her more. He tugged at his shirt sleeve and wished he had never told her the truth behind his wounds. She knew it was killing him—that her own vision could have killed him.

"If you need me," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "my room's not far."

Emrys turned to leave, but no sooner had his hand touched the door when he heard the distinct creak of bed springs from behind. He swiveled his head to find Eva standing with her book clutched against her chest.

"Maybe..." She swallowed nervously, fingers drumming against the mangled book cover. "Maybe it would be better if I'm not alone."

A small smile tugged at Emrys' lips, and he extended a hand. "My room's more comfortable, anyway."

In an attempt at lightening the mood, he nodded to the small, twin-sized bed in the corner of Eva's room. Thana had insisted on the smallest mattress she could find, since the less space there was, the less chance there would be of anyone crawling in with her. Sometimes, he wondered if her attempts at keeping others from touching her went beyond the realm of rationality—but he imagined that no one could live with the Touch and come out sane.

Despite her fears, he didn't know how she had managed in such a cramped bed. Even in his smaller form, he needed room to stretch out.

Eva turned to grab a small, unlit lantern from the bedside table. For a moment, she stared at it with uncertainty, until Emrys realized she didn't know how to work it.

And she made fun of him for not understanding a microwave.

"I can sleep just fine with the lights on," Emrys assured her. "It won't bother me if you're reading."

He wiggled his fingers in an attempt at playfulness. The longer she stared at his hand with uncertainty, however, the thinner her mask wore. It brought another stark reminder of his former companion, fearing the destruction one graze of skin would bring.

It was only then that he realized he had offered his injured hand.

He nearly pulled it back again when Eva's fingers curled around his own. The touch, while gentle, made him restrain a wince. Though he could usually shove off the dull ache to get through the day, her soft squeeze brought a wave of pain.

Trying to ignore the discomfort, he led her to his room, only one door from her own. With a snap of his fingers, the overhead lanterns flickered to life.

Eva lingered by the doorway as he broke from her hold to pull back his maroon covers. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Emrys nodded, yawning into his elbow. Too tired to change into his usual loungewear, he flopped onto the mattress fully-clothed and patted the empty space beside him. Eva shuffled over and climbed beneath the sheets, keeping her back to him while she re-cracked her book's spine.

Satisfied, Emrys rolled onto his stomach, but he had hardly closed his eyes when the sound of shuddering breaths forced him to crack them open once again. Peering through heavy lids, he noticed Eva's shoulders shaking periodically from emotion she tried so hard not to show.

It was enough. Enough for him to drop his walls and wrap his arms around her waist. While she jumped at first, she melted into his touch, sinking against him with the weight of sorrow. Feeling her warm body nestled with his was calming to his senses, and the rise and fall of her chest was rhythmic enough to lull him into a deep, peaceful slumber.

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