Chapter 27 - Above Cursed Winds

Softly stroking her fingers through Jeremiah’s thick hair, Zia mourned. The strands tickled the sensitive inner surfaces of her fingers as tears trailed down her cheeks.

On the heels of Jeremiah’s admission, she’d understood the grief that’d ravaged him. He’d failed in protecting Gideon, and he’d been betrayed by the element that’d been his for four centuries. A horrific lack of control, one the burned in a place so deep, comforting words could not reach.

She still tried, though.

Zia took them both to her bedroom and let him explore the pain that finally broken through the wall of ice built to protect not only himself, but also his closest friends.

Jeremiah hadn’t told Gideon, and likely never would.

Right now, the Elemental monarch believed the lie. He believed that Jeremiah had willfully held back his element from saving him because of moral high ground. The truth was much more devastating: Jeremiah had valued Gideon’s life above all the lives of those downstream, but he’d failed to save him regardless of the cost. He simply hadn’t been strong enough.

Following that disastrous attempt, Gideon’s heart had nearly ceased beating, and Jeremiah had had to deal with his colossal failure alone. He couldn’t even tell Rukia, the only other person in the world that might’ve understood. He believed the water Elemental would have either blamed him for his shortcomings or cursed him for even trying.

Jeremiah had been completely and utterly alone.

No longer, Zia thought as she gazed down at the sleeping man beside her. His head rested in her lap, his eyes closed, breath steady and slow. The guilt had sloughed off his shoulders as he’d confessed. She’d sensed as much in his psychic signature. It still hadn’t changed, but it’d become lighter, less heavy.

Zia gently brushed a hand over the dried blood on his eyebrow. As soon as he’d fallen asleep, his element had begun working. The cuts had sealed, and the abrasions marring his skin had scabbed over and disappeared within minutes. She had sent her own healing gift into his core, the damage from internal bleeding fading under the pulse of her power. She watched almost absently, knowing that the true source of his pain was soul-deep and would likely never disappear entirely.

The depth of her affection for him astounded her: it ran deeper, stronger than anything she’d felt romantically before. In the few short days he’d been around, he’d slotted into her life as if he’d been made for it. He’d been kind to her son, made her breakfast, fixed her home, and saved her life, without her having to ask or expose vulnerability. Jeremiah saw her needs, even the ones she hid away, and met them.

It was confusing, for a woman who’d never become close to anyone for fear of—

Zia’s spine when ramrod stiff, panic pouring through her veins. She sent an alarmed telepathic knock to Key’s mind.

The Foreseer’s reply was sleepy. Yes, my friend?

Is Jeremiah my mate? The words held an acrid bitterness that threatened to revolt in her stomach.

Why do you ask?

Key! Zia growled. You’ve cursed me once already. You will answer me this: Is. Jeremiah. My. Mate?

All trace of coyness disappeared from the other woman’s voice. Vehemence that matched Zia’s own infused the reply: What do you desire, Zia? Do you want him to be your mate and cling to what little hope you have for your future? Or should I tell you the truth?

Breath caught in her throat. What is the truth?

He belongs to someone already, Zia.

There was sincere pity in Key’s tone. Raw honesty. Zia could sense as much with her own inherent gifts.

She thought of Jeremiah’s true mate, who’d claim him mind, body, and soul, know his secrets and love him without reservation. Zia could only hope the woman would cherish him as much as he deserved.

Because she couldn’t be that for him, and it was both a relief and a poison. She was cursed. Her future had shown one thing: she was fated to watch while her mate died, unable to save him. Jeremiah had suffered enough, and she’d never want to hurt him more. She’d deal with her jealousy and wish him happiness.

Zia carefully extracted herself from the bed, gently setting his head on a pillow instead of the cradle of her lap. Though he shifted slightly and reached out absently toward her, he didn’t wake.

The lights in the bathroom cast a yellow glare over the cabinets Jeremiah had finished. So many places in her house would always remind her of the Elemental, and how good he had been to them.

Tired features met her gaze in the vanity’s mirror, a weariness that hadn’t been there before. Jeremiah had carried his devastating secret for so long, and when he shared it with her, he’d shared some of the burden that accompanied it.

It was her privilege to help him carry it. The Elemental wasn’t going to be her mate. Key was never wrong in these matters. She would deal with the mixed feelings that came from that eventually. But in the meantime, there was no harm in a temporary reprieve.

Perhaps it’d do them both good.

Nero answered her telepathic hail moments after she sent it. He teleported into her kitchen, sporting a concerned smile as she moved to embrace him. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Sometimes, a hug can cure a thousand ills. I’m here, whatever you need.”

Zia brought out the peanut M&M’s. It had been their guilty pleasure for decades when life wore then down, and now she cherished the tradition. They both stood around her kitchen island, eating the candies, as Zia fought for the right words.

Nero offered her another outlet instead. “How’s the Elemental?”

“Sleeping,” she said, too fast. “He’s sleeping. Upstairs. He’s … not doing well. Blames himself for today.”

“I figured as much. He’s worn grief and self-hatred on his sleeve since the day Gideon almost died.” Nero popped a few M&M’s in his mouth.

“There’s a reason for that.”

Her sovereign perked. “He confided in you?”

After a moment, she nodded, but didn’t explain further. “It was a difficult day.”

“It was.”

Zia chewed on her candy before asking the question that’d burned inside her since she heard the news this morning. “Did Key know?”

“If she did, she didn’t tell me.”

There was something darker in Nero’s tone, a heaviness that seemed both weary and enraged, and the emotions were mirrored on his face. Zia had seldom seen anything similar from her sovereign. Caught off guard, she waited for him to continue.

“I love Key,” he began, “but trusting her through her riddles and obscure prophecies occasionally proves too much for me.”

Zia snorted. “You don’t have to tell me that, sovereign, much less apologize for it. We both live our lives based on what she’s foreseen, and neither of us have anything to show for it.”

She grabbed another handful of M&M’s and angrily shoved them into her mouth. Frustration stewed between them as Nero grew forlorn across from her.

“There was a point in my life where I trusted Key completely,” he admitted. “No reluctance. No hesitation. I’d jump when she said I had to jump.” He slumped back in his chair. “I’m ashamed to say I no longer feel that way.”

“She manipulates us all, sovereign.” She grimaced. “It’s a harsh word, but it’s true. Sometimes, it feels like we’re all flies caught in Key’s web.”

Nero nodded sadly. “It’s difficult to make leadership—or personal—decisions based on what little information she gives us. It’s infuriating at times.”

Zia studied him. Her sovereign had heard of his foretold mate when he’d been a youngling himself. He’d remained true to the woman Key had foreseen for him, trusting in the fate promised to him, yearning for her for over a thousand years.

“It feels like I’m waiting for my mate on a hope and a prayer,” Nero whispered. “I’m tired of waiting.”

The despair in his voice instantly set her feet in motion. Zia closed the distance between them and returned his earlier hug. After a moment, he reached and squeezed her forearm. It said more than words ever could.