I walk into the washroom, and he follows.
“Henry, seriously, leave—” The exertion of snapping at him makes my stomach heave.
Henry is behind me in a second, holding my hair back as I vomit into the toilet. The pain in my head peaks with each heave, until finally my stomach is empty, and it dulls to just a searing ache.
Sometimes, it feels like there’s a storm swirling in my head. Other times, it feels like my mind is nauseous. But this is the worst variety of attack because it’s just stark pain.
“They think I have some sort of fire magic,” I rasp.
Henry frowns. “What do you mean?”
“The staff. They think that’s why I ask for ice.”
He sits down next to me and offers me a cool washcloth. “Why do you hide it?”
“Did you not see the way everyone in that room studies us? You know how it is in the Haven. Strength above all. It’s the same here. They’re constantly looking for a pressure point to push. Information is power the same way magic is. We don’t share what power anyone in the family has except for my father and Able because it keeps people guessing. They’re less likely to try something if they don’t know what to prepare for.”
There’s a knock at my bedroom door, and Henry leaves me leaning against the bathroom wall.
He returns a moment later with a pillow, a blanket, and a tray. He setsthe ice, water, and lemonade on the tufted seat in the corner and places the pillow and blanket on the floor behind me.
“The door is locked. I have some water for you if you think your stomach can handle it.”
He starts to hand the glass to me, but must think better of it, and continues to hold it steady so it doesn’t slip from my trembling hands. Then, he gives me a toothbrush and lets me brush my teeth.
Gently, he lays me back on the pillow and blanket he’s placed on the bathroom floor. He leaves the washroom and returns a moment later with a pillowcase.
I watch through half-closed eyes as he shrugs out of his vest, removes his tie, and undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. Then he scoops handfuls of ice into the pillowcase and places it on my forehead.
The relief is mild but instant. Something about the cold always helps—or at least distracts me from the pain.
“I don’t need to be coddled,” I grumble.
But I do. I’m weak and I’m tired and the pain is so blinding that all I want is to be held and soothed, and that makes me more angry.
He clicks his tongue. “Such a prickly little wife.”
My eyes are still closed, but I can hear the teasing in his tone. He’s not treating me differently. I could not take it if he were soft now.
The room is quiet except for the sound of my ragged breathing. As the agony crests again, I’m struck with surprising grief. I was foolish to wish for it, but I wanted so badly to be delivered from this pain, and I’m bereft at that loss of hope. I wanted the Mountain Well to work.
This is why I have forced myself to be practical for so long. I’ve spent years sculpting myself into someone who can survive in the harshest conditions, but being robbed of the dream of living pain-free cuts to the core of me.
“I really thought your well was going to work.” I’m mortified by the tears streaming from my eyes.
Henry wipes my cheek. “So did I. I’m sorry it didn’t.”
For years, I’ve resented that everyone treated my condition like it was some personal failure of mine—as if there was always more I should be doing to try to banish it. I changed my diet and sleep habits. I lost track of how many healers I visited in Lunameade. Every one of them had a different diagnosis, a more unique and certain-to-work solution.
“Nothing works.” I have lived my entire life braced for the ebbs and flows of this ache. And now I know I can’t solve it.
“I just wanted it to fix me,” I whisper. The lump in my throat is so large, it hurts, and I’m so close to losing it in front of him.
“You don’t need to be fixed, Harlow.” His voice is so soft. Even though I know he’s just trying to build trust with me so he can use me for whatever his family wants to use me for, I want to believe him. I want it to be real, if only for now.
“Come here,” Henry says, gently taking the pillowcase of ice from my chilled hand.
I blink my eyes open and frown at him. “No.”
