With a slight quirk of his lips, Fyn brushed a lock of Mindy’s hair. “He does, indeed. Mine is the ability to see spirits when they linger on this plane.” Fyn met my gaze. “There are no spirits around you, Bartholomew.”
I fought a clawing emotion in my gut, but words escaped my control. “Then why do I see them?”
“Perhaps you are having a health crisis?”
Chuckling, I closed my eyes. “I’m not sick or having a mental breakdown.”
“Then why do you see spirits that are not there?”
“Because I’m the reason they’re dead,” I whispered. I didn’t know why I was telling this virtual stranger everything. The words were slipping out without my permission.
“Guilt is powerful.”
“You’re not going to tell me it wasn’t my fault?” I asked.
“I don’t know what you did. Is it your fault?”
“Yes.”
“Then I cannot absolve you of your guilt or spirits. Only you can do that, Bartholomew. You are the one holding them here. Not their anger, not their pain, not their malice. It is only you and your guilt. You have to let them go.”
I confessed, “I don’t know how.”
“My mate-brother,” Fyn said, “you have to forgive yourself.”
That was something I didn’t know if I could do. I was alive, and they were not. It wasn’t right. Why was it me who’d survived?
Fyn returned to his seat. “I will help you if I can.”
“Why would you help me? You don’t even know me.”
He gave me a slight smile. “Because someone I didn’t know well helped me. Seth helped me and still stands beside me when I need him. I would like to do the same for you.”
I held his gaze for several seconds before looking away. While I had a hard time believing I’d just spilled my guts to a stranger, I also felt a tad better, a bit lighter. Changing the subject, I asked, “What did the Cohort decide?”
“They had not come to an agreement when I left,” Fyn answered. “We didn’t wish to leave you or Serlotminden alone, so I came here. Seth has need of Kalvoxrencol, and Dontilvynsan is still in trouble, so many wished to chastise him. I was unneeded at the meeting, for Caleb shines well without me, and I was needed here.”
I grunted again, and we fell silent. It was awkward between us, at least on my side, but I refused to let that stop me from caring for Mindy. My lips found his forehead again. He wouldn’t leave me. The doctor would figure it out, and everything would be fine.
Klars appeared by my side. A congenial smile was on his lips. In the short time I’d known the Amorian doctor, he’d always been in a good mood. “Prince Zoltilvoxfyn, nice to see you.”
Fyn tilted his head slightly to the side. Drakcol did that. I wasn’t entirely sure why—acknowledgement, or concession maybe.
“How are you feeling?” Klars asked me.
I grunted.
“That is not a cognizant response, Bartholomew,” he scolded like I was five. “Use your words.”
I had several choice words for him, but I didn’t say them. “I’m fine.”
“I doubt that, but you are recovering,” he commented. Klars added more fluids to the tubes connected to me, took a blood sample, then tutted about this or that. I didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t try to make me leave. “You are going to need a high calorie diet to assist in gaining weight. I have made a slurry of nutrients for you.”
The proffered tube of gray sludge didn’t appear appetizing.
“I made three, and Seth informed me this one was the least vile,” Klars said with a wide grin.
A snort came from Fyn’s direction, but by the time I looked, he’d covered his mouth, hiding a smile most likely.
