The Ghost wolf's Bride

Chapter 4: The Echo of Pain

Theme: Truth in Touch

The call bells, and the sun had hardly risen, say, 7 A.M., and a sour guard dragged Threnody on to the doofus-study of Sorin--with its stuffy leather and cold stone air. He was trembling along the enormous fire-place, toward her. The bandage already turned his arm all red and all-groggy.

As he turned about, the entire situation altered. The cold mask was gone. Administration of his silver eyes has been this super intense and it has freaked her more than he was uncaring before.

"You." He sounded rough. "Explain yourself."

Threnody sunk her heels, heart a-thumping her breast. "Explain what, Alpha?" She heard him say, and then:

Why did you rush into danger last night? He stepped closer. The heat of him was real. "They wore Mosswood colors. Your own crew. It was your best opportunity to beat me. So I'll ask again. Why?"

He was looking as though he was forcing the truth out of her. She didn't flinch.

She said, steadily, because it was the right thing to do.

"Right?" He let out a quick, harsh laugh. No right or wrong of it here, healer. Only powerful and powerless, living and not. Last night your moves are insane."

Perhaps, she told herself, you are not so logical.

During some period of time he only gazed at her, his bewilderment and perhaps his hope struggling. That was the first time she saw that side.

At noon all were already pissed at the fortress. Sorin had a great angry red wound, and his nails were not healing in time. The ancient medicine-man went off shaking his head by the Alpha.

"It’ll never close, Alpha. Resistance, maybe, there is a resistance, a resistance, maybe, a poison.

Kael came there, propping the door with his body like it was his. "I told you. A Mosswood blade. Their sneakiness is deep. The poison’s in your blood now."

With a groaning of wood Sorin passed his hand upon the table. He was about to explode. His eyes were filled with hurt and disappointment, sweeping the room, and then resting upon Threnody.

You, rat, he pointed to her, they say you can heal flesh. Can you repair this as a gift of Mosswood feeble and lame as ye all say?

Tension was thick. Every eye was on her. Slowly she moved forward, another step, another, till she stood in front of his chair.

My gift is not poor, Alpha, she said, with a low but clear voice. She looked directly at his silver eyes. "But it's not simple. It’s heavy. It is expensive, and you may not like the way you feel when I do it.

Sorin’s mouth tightened. I have nothing to fear of a little pain, girl.

She smiled sadly. "Not that kind of pain."

Every other person was out after receiving the go-ahead of Sorin. Kael walked away, sneaking a parting. They were left alone.

Sorin sat up, stiff in his chair, setter of his jaw. He was prepared to fire, torment, all. The hands of Threnody began to glow like gold, and she was floating over the cut which was, of course, infected.

But nothing crazier than that happened, instead of screaming.

A shocking wave of pure peace struck him. It was very alien, as an old forgottenness, and it made him breathless. Anger, doubt, pressure, the mad tempest within, had softened down. Silence, at least after many years. His eyes were wide open and he stared at her like that.

But Threnody gasped. Her own eyes shut tight. She was being drowned not in his agony, but in his memories.

She was as though a little child sitting in the dark part of the room, and saw a father beat a mother because she was talking too loud. The slap sounded in her head.

She had the burden of a cold metallic crown on the head of a teen--a burden and solitude which made it hard to breathe.

She was the loneliness of a boy on a throne, lonely and surrounded but with no one to trust. The dagger that was biting his pillow was the only consolation.

Then the cold, gnawing terror, she thought, as the wickedness of his blood was a nightmare in him, and that one day he would wake up and be the nightmare.

That was the tempest that she was pacifying. And that was her actual cut that she was healing.

The golden glow on her hands had died. Threnody withdrew, fumbling back as though she had touched a transformer. The furious incision had disappeared on the arm of Sorin, and in its place was smooth new skin. Total healing.

But it was in their eyes that had to change.

And all stunned, painful, she looked at him. The Ghost Wolf was just a myth. The truth was way worse.

You are not mean, she thought. "You’re just afraid. You’re scared of becoming him."

Sorin stared. Every fortification of his, defenses, anger, as a fortification all came down in one c***k. The mask had disappeared and in its place was nakedness. Nothing was more frightening than a fight, than an assassin.

No one had ever seen that. No one had ever looked past the Alpha and seen the terrified boy he had been, the haunted man he was. He had spent a lifetime building a fortress of ice around his heart, and she had simply walked through the walls as if they were mist.

His deepest, most shameful secret was no longer his alone. It was now a truth they shared.

He opened his mouth, his voice a hushed, broken thing. "What... what are you?"

Before she could form an answer, the heavy door to the study burst open.

Vance stood there, his face a perfect mask of concern. But his sharp, calculating eyes took in everything in an instant: Sorin’s healed arm, their close proximity, the shattered, unguarded look on his nephew’s face, the tears in Threnody’s eyes.

"My boy! The guards said the healing was a success. A truly remarkable gift," Vance said, his voice slick and smooth. He turned his gaze to Threnody, and his polite smile tightened into something much more dangerous. "It seems we have all severely underestimated our new... treasure."

He took a step into the room, his eyes locked on Threnody.

"And that," he said, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper, "was a very, very foolish mistake to make."