Prim’s hand gripped Dante’s over her stomach as they lay in bed together, the soft light of dawn pouring through the skinny windows of her chamber. It would be the last time she woke up with his arm around her. At least for a while.
With the threat to Kallia gone and the visiting royals and their entourage well on their way back to Lanham, Dante’s job was done and his debt paid. He was free to leave whenever he wanted. Truth be told, he’d been free to leave ever since Kallia handed him that pardon.
Thankfully, he hadn’t wanted to leave right away. It’d been two weeks since the Lanhami left, and he hadn’t mentioned going back to the North the entire first week. Instead, he stayed close, acting as an escort in front of wandering eyes despite the fact that escorts were no longer assigned. The complex had reverted back to guards being posted along hallways and other strategic locations, but no longer were they required to watch the princess’s every move. Nor her handmaidens.
Kallia claimed Dante and Blukke were her personal on-call guards who didn’t fall under any kern’s command, and the two men spent much time lounging on the chaises behind the closed doors of Kallia’s chambers with their respective handmaiden on their lap. Kallia didn’t seem to mind at all, despite the fact that she was once again without a love interest. Torra had returned to Lanham with her parents, too distraught over the events that had taken place here to consider pursuing a relationship with Kallia. Prim felt that was a good call; at least one of the young royals should make it back home.
The men also spent some time each day in the Cavs. Dante always came back with good news--or at least no bad news--and made a point to return before Prim’s afternoon lesson with Jacques so he could join her in the armory for sparring. Prim noticed Blukke was always around for those hours Bristol had free, too.
Kallia had convinced her parents to keep Sarasha on staff as a mindmolder, though she was no longer considered a guard. She was provided a dwelling in the city proper and was free to live her life as she saw fit off a comfortable stipend, as long as she was available to the crown when needed.
After that first week, though, Dante had stroked Prim’s hair as they laid together one night, facing one another. “Kallia is safe,” he said.
Prim knew what he meant. “When will you leave?”
Dante continued his gentle fingering of her tresses as he studied her. “How about one more week?”
Prim had wanted to counter, How about forever? But she’d only nodded, wrapping her arms around him, not wanting to waste a single moment.
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The following day, she’d asked him to join her in visiting Helena, knowing if she didn’t get her memories back when he was still here, she never would. Only with Dante by her side could she face that fear.
The mentor, surprisingly, didn’t refuse when Prim asked her to reverse the aging of her memories or brain or whatever it was she’d done to her. Helena only asked if she was certain. Prim knew that her mentor had realized her imagination was worse than the truth after she’d convinced herself she killed her parents. So the handmaiden joked that she could always take them away again, but Helena’s face had stayed grim as it always was.
Prim had sat on the chaise in Helena’s room with Dante next to her, holding her hand. Helena stood before her, and Prim closed her eyes as her mentor pressed her palm against the handmaiden’s forehead. Her hand was so cold and small and smooth whereas Dante’s was warm and large and rough. Prim focused on the juxtaposed sensations as she braced herself.
Helena’s gift didn’t hurt. The only sign of its effect was the images that flashed through Prim’s mind like the pages of a book being flipped in the wind. They came too fast to see details; Prim couldn’t have explained what any one of them depicted. But she could feel them.
She didn’t see the image of the pretty woman pressing her nose into Prim’s cheek, but she felt the love. She didn’t see the image of the man with kind eyes snatching her up just before she stepped on an escaped hot coal from the hearth, but she felt the relief of knowing she was safe and protected. She didn’t see the image of her parent’s bed, the bloodied sheets covering two motionless forms, nor the image of the man rummaging through her house in the night who had turned around at her approach and grabbed her wrist then disappeared. But she felt the fear, the anguish, the heartbreak.
Helena removed her hand and Prim opened her eyes. Her lashes stuck together half a second too long, her tears binding them before spilling onto her cheeks.
Prim stared at her mentor, a tender look upon the woman’s face she’d never seen before. She released Dante’s hand and stood, her face only inches away from Helena’s. “Thank you.”
Prim wasn’t sure if she was thanking her mentor for giving the memories back or for taking them in the first place; they were indeed things no child should have ever had to experience. Either way, she wrapped her arms around Helena as more tears fell, who hesitated only a moment before returning the embrace.
With Kallia’s blessing, Prim had spent the remainder of that day in her chamber with Dante, sorting through her new memories, pulling them out one by one and vocalizing them to him. It felt so intimate, letting him learn about those parts of her life at the same exact moment she was. No filter. No hesitation. Some made her laugh, some made her angry, but nearly all made her cry. For the first time, Prim missed her parents.
And Dante understood. He knew exactly when to make jokes and egg on her laughter. He knew exactly when to put his arm around her and stroke his thumb over her neck. He knew exactly when to offer how he’d coped with his own loss. He knew exactly when to say nothing and hold her as she cried.
The days following that continued much like the first week had. Until today. The day he was going to leave.