Henry sighs. “Fine. If you won’t tell me about the scars, will you at least tell me about why you locked yourself in your room for three days and Kyrin wouldn’t leave you alone?”
I stare at him. I can’t tell if he orchestrated this whole thing with his oversharing, or if I’ve tragically developed a conscience that makes me feel uncomfortable that he shared so openly while I held everything back.
“If I tell you this, I need you to swear you won’t immediately back out of the wedding.”
He holds perfectly still, as if afraid any sudden movements will scare me off. “Harlow, whatever it is, your secret is safe with me. Consider it mutually assured destruction. You know mine and now I’ll know yours.”
“I prefer just knowing yours,” I say.
His lips twitch. “You would.”
I look away. I don’t want to see the disappointment on his face when I tell him. “My whole life, I have been plagued by these—episodes. I can always feel them coming on. Usually they’re preceded by light sensitivity and these glowing orbs that shine around light sources. Sometimes I get dizzy or nauseous. And from the time I get those first few warning signs, I can have anywhere from a few minutes to an hour to get somewhere private. They can last a few hours to a few days. I know strength is important here, but it’s also important for my family to always present a strong, united front. It wouldn’t do for our people to know that I have this kind of weakness.”
“That’s not weakness,” Henry says. “Do you know what causes them?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve seen every healer in Lunameade and none of them has any idea. Stress can make them worse, but truthfully, they seem to come entirely at random, and when they come on, it’s crippling. I can’t do more than lie on the washroom floor and vomit and try to survive. It’s all very pathetic.”
“Harlow—” His voice is pleading. I finally allow myself to meet his gaze.
The pity I find there is worse than disgust or anger. I hate it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap. “This is the exact reason I don’t tell people. It’s just something I deal with. I don’t want to hear that I’m brave or strong. I have no choice but to bear it. I need this marriage to work to protect my family. So, if this changes things, please don’t be angry. I wasn’t trying to trick you and I have no reason to believe it will be passed down to our children.”
Henry frowns. “So the ice is for your head?”
I nod. “It helps sometimes.”
“They shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you. They should be finding you support to deal with it. Surely there must be an herbal treatment. Maybe we have a healer here who would know something. Carter’s wife is an excellent herbalist. I could speak with her discreetly to see if?—”
“Stop! I’m not a problem to be solved. I don’t need you to fix me.”
He has the sense to look chastened. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I know. You want to help. But sometimes the idea that I could and should always be doing more to figure it out feels like a massive burden on me when I’m already embarrassed to need the help in the first place.”
The same pity from before is back. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t treat me differently now. It feels worse to be treated like I’m weak. You don’t know what it takes to endure that on a regular basis. If they aren’t that bad, I force myself to go about my day.”
He rubs the back of his neck, and he truly looks like he’s on his heels for once. “I feel like shit for pressing you so much about appearing strong now that I know you do it all the time.”
I look away. This is too much. I want to crawl out of my skin. I’ve never spoken about this in depth with anyone except Aidia, and it was even hard to explain it to her.
“What about your family well?”
I shake my head. “It helps afterward with the sore muscles and fatigue, but it’s never cured an episode, and I don’t think it’s improved anything for me.” I run my hand over the surface of the water. “I was afraid to get in, because if this doesn’t work, then it means I’m really broken.”
Saying it out loud feels like I’ve gone a step too far. The instinct to run returns.
“I don’t expect you to push through daily. I want you to tell me when you need a break. If you need to rest, Harlow, you will always be given that dignity here.”
I glare at him. “If I lay down every time I don’t feel well, I’d neverleave my bed. I don’t have the luxury of pain-free weeks. I have tolive, Henry. I have todosomething.”
“What happens if you hold still?”
The answer to that question is dangerously revealing. Is this my madness? The inability to just hold still? The fear that everything tucked away in the back of my mind will finally catch up if I stop moving. My hand comes to my back reflexively—the mark there tied to every memory I’d rather not unpack right now.
“I think that’s enough soul-baring for one day. I’ve answered your questions and you haven’t rejected me—yet.”
