Page 169 of Ashborne Phoenix

And that didn’t feel good. That didn’t feel good at all.

A Sister at Heart

~ GRACE ~

I was already sitting up when the door opened and Bren peered around it, breaking into a smile when she saw me awake.

“Grace! It’s so good to see you!”

“Bren!” I opened my arms and she rushed to me, hugging me tightly, swaying a little. It hurt my stomach some, but I was so delighted to see her, I didn’t say so.

“How are you? How is Donavyn? How are the brothers—tell me everything!” I gushed as she sank into Voski’s chair, turning it so she faced me, her knees right against the side of the bed.

We spent a delightful few minutes in which she made me laugh hard enough that my wound began to sting, as she painted the ways Gil had teased Harle in Voski’s absence, and how Einar and Oros frightened Jhoare one night in the barracks.

When I begged her to stop making me laugh, we both quieted and then she leaned forward and took my hand and the look on her face was so full of compassion, and hesitance, that my heart dropped.

“What is it?” I asked her quickly. Had something happened to Donavyn, or one of the brothers?

“I hope you don’t mind, but Donavyn told me about the baby,” Bren said quietly.

I swallowed the sudden pinch in my throat and nodded. “I… I don’t mind. I suppose it means I don’t have to tell everyone—”

“He told me because he knew I’d understand. That’s why I wanted to see you while you were still here, and I asked Voski to let me talk to you alone. Because… I wanted you to know that I’ve lost a baby, too.”

I sucked in a breath. “You and Donavyn—”

She shook her head quickly. “No, it wasn’t…” She swallowed hard and her forehead pinched. I tightened my grip on her hand. “It wasn’t a baby I sought. But when it happened… I wanted to be his wife. I wanted to have that life. It felt devastating. And shameful. And I couldn’t talk to anyone about it because…” she trailed off, blowing out a breath and shaking her head. “There’s a very long story that I’ll tell you one day. But for now, I just want you to know that I understand. And I’m here. If you want to talk about it. Or if you don’t. I just want you to be sure that you aren’t alone.”

I smiled, intending to tell her how sweet it was that she came, how grateful I was for her friendship. But the words stuck in my throat, and to my horror, tears rushed to the surface.

Suddenly, I was sobbing. I yanked my hand out of hers and buried my face in my palms, trying desperately to get a grip on myself.

“I’m so tired of crying about this!” I said in a shrill, choking voice. “I didn’t mean to—I’m glad you came! I’m grateful. I’ll stop soon. It just hits me sometimes…”

Bren didn’t speak for a while. She put one hand on my knee, the other on my arm, and sat with me while I babbled and tried to explain.

But when I exhaled loudly, and just cried, she crawled onto the quilts, sat at my side, and pulled me against her. One arm around me, rubbing my arm. She tipped her head on mine and didn’t make me uncover my face.

She simply sat with me while I cried, and when, eventually, I could breathe without my breath hitching, she started to talk—only slowly. Whispering. Her voice choked as well. But everything she said was like cooling water on a burn.

It’s not your fault.

You will heal. But you’ll never forget.

It’s good to cry.

I still cry sometimes.

It’s confusing, because good things have come, but it’s still a loss. Let yourself grieve.

Let your mate love you. Keep hold of your hope.

People who don’t know better will say stupid things that they think will help, but they’ll only hurt you. Forgive them. They’re trying. Ignore the barbed words, and hold the soft ones close.

I dreamed about her—she was sweet, and small, and happy. And I held her. I woke up crying, but it gave me something to cling to. A picture in my mind. It helped.

She is safe in the hands of the Creator, who made her, and knows her, and loves her.