Chapter 146: Let Me Do This For Ruthina

"Eiravelle, no. Qazaethel would never allow you. Dream walking is dangerous if you have no power." Arielle’s voice was firm, the voice she used when she was speaking as the prime minister rather than as a sister. She had shifted Qazaevelle to one arm, the baby still fussing softly, and her free hand was clenched at her side as though she was physically restraining herself from reaching out and stopping Eiravelle.

"You don’t have the abilities to protect yourself in there. If something goes wrong, if Ruthina’s mind turns against you, you could be trapped. Or worse."

Eiravelle was about to speak, the words already forming on her lips, when the door to the infirmary swung open and Qazaethel entered, followed closely by Dawn and Liv. The sovereign’s presence filled the room immediately, her sharp gaze sweeping across the scene—Ruthina’s pale, still form on the bed, Arielle with Qazaevelle in her arms, and Eiravelle sitting beside the golden rabbit with an acupuncture needle still in her hand. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something in the set of her jaw, something tight and controlled, that spoke of barely contained worry.

"Qazaethel." Arielle’s eyes widened, and she instinctively adjusted her hold on Qazaevelle, as though she was suddenly aware of how the scene must look. The baby, sensing her aunt’s tension, let out a small cry.

"What’s going on?" Qazaethel asked, her gaze darting to Arielle, to Qazaevelle in Arielle’s arms, and then to Eiravelle. She crossed the room in quick, purposeful strides, her boots clicking against the stone floor, and she took Eiravelle’s hands in hers, her grip warm and steady. "Eivy, what’s going on?" She asked again, her voice softer now, meant only for her wife.

Eiravelle looked up at her, and for a moment, she allowed herself to simply feel the comfort of Qazaethel’s presence, the steadiness of her hands, the familiar scent of her. But there was no time to linger. Ruthina was waiting. "Qaz, I have to go and save Ruthina inside her mind," Eiravelle said, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her stomach.

"You what? Why?" Qazaethel asked, her voice carefully calm, but there was a crack at the edge of it, a fissure in the controlled facade she wore like armor. Her hands tightened around Eiravelle’s, and her eyes searched her wife’s face as though she could find the answer there, as though she could find a way to make this make sense.

"Ruthina will only trust me at this time. She was petrified," Eiravelle began to explain, her voice low. She glanced at the bed, at Ruthina’s still form, at the way her brow was furrowed even in unconsciousness.

"She’s trapped in her mind, Qaz. The church did something terrible to her, and now she’s lost inside her own memories. If I don’t go in and guide her back, she might never wake up. She might stay trapped there forever."

Qazaethel shook her head, the motion sharp and immediate. "Eivy, you know what you’re saying, right? Dream walking will be dangerous for you. You have no superpowers to protect you. You’re not a mage, you’re not a healer with training in this. You’re—" She stopped herself, her jaw tightening. You’re an omega. You’re vulnerable. You’re my beloved. The words hung unspoken between them, but Eiravelle heard them all the same.

Eiravelle gently cupped Qazaethel’s face, her thumbs brushing against her cheeks. "I know," she said softly. "I know it’s dangerous. But I have to do this for Ruthina. In her mind, I was her beloved saint. As a golden rabbit, she only trusts her saint." She paused, her eyes meeting Qazaethel’s.

"She’s been through so much, Qaz. She was a slave in the demon realm. She was hurt by the church. She has never known safety, not really. And now she’s trapped in her own mind, reliving every horror she’s ever experienced. I can’t leave her there. I can’t."

Qazaethel’s eyes closed, and for a moment, she simply breathed, her forehead pressing against Eiravelle’s. The room was silent around them, Arielle and Dawn and Liv standing still, watching, waiting. Even Qazaevelle had quieted, as though she understood that her mothers needed this moment.

"I’m coming with you," Qazaethel said, and her voice was firm, brooking no argument.

Eiravelle shook her head. "Qazaethel, we don’t want to invade Ruthina’s secrets, do we? The unconsciousness is the most vulnerable realm of our mind. If someone gets inside someone’s mind forcefully, that is a violation we do not dare to commit." She pulled back slightly, her hands still on Qazaethel’s face. "Ruthina trusts me. She knows me as her saint. But if you come with me, if two people enter her mind uninvited, it could break her. It could destroy whatever trust she has left. I have to go alone."

Qazaethel sighed, and the sound was heavy with fear and frustration and love. She lifted Eiravelle’s hands to her lips and kissed them, one after the other, as though she could press her protection into Eiravelle’s skin. "I don’t know..." She murmured, and her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Please... Let me do this for Ruthina. She has to come back." Eiravelle said, and there was a long silence that filled the room, a silence that seemed to stretch and swell until it was almost a physical presence.

Qazaethel didn’t know what to say. She glanced at the others, hoping they would say something, hoping someone would offer a solution that didn’t involve her wife risking her life in a realm she couldn’t follow. But Dawn simply watched with quiet, solemn eyes, her hands folded in front of her, and Liv stood at attention near the door, her face unreadable, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

Arielle, still holding Qazaevelle, looked at Qazaethel with something that might have been understanding, might have been sympathy, but she said nothing. The silence only stretched, heavy and unyielding.

Qazaethel landed her gaze on Eiravelle once again, and she reluctantly nodded. "Okay," she said, and her voice was low, barely a whisper. "Then do it." But as she said it, she couldn’t even let go of Eiravelle’s hand. Her fingers remained curled around Eiravelle’s, holding on as though Eiravelle was already slipping away from her, already fading into a place where Qazaethel could not follow.

Eiravelle smiled, and there was something soft and grateful in her eyes, something that made Qazaethel’s heart ache. She gently pulled Qazaethel’s nape and kissed her, a slow, tender kiss that tasted of fear and promise and love. "I’ll be right back, I promise... I will be back safe and in one piece," Eiravelle reassured her, and Qazaethel nodded with a sigh. She was trying to keep herself calm for Eiravelle, trying to be the steady, unshakeable sovereign that everyone expected her to be. But inside, she was crumbling.

She thought of how easy it had been to be that person, to be the sovereign, to be the one who made the hard decisions. And she thought of how impossible it was to be that person now, with Eiravelle’s hand in hers and the weight of everything she stood to lose pressing down on her.

She wanted to forbid it. She wanted to lock the infirmary doors and refuse to let Eiravelle go, to keep her safe and protected and far away from danger. But she knew she couldn’t. She knew that Eiravelle would never forgive her, and she knew that Ruthina would be lost. And she knew, deep down, that Eiravelle was right. This was the only way.

She let go of Eiravelle’s hand, and the loss of contact felt like a physical wound. She watched as Eiravelle turned back to Ruthina, watched as she settled more comfortably in the chair and took the omega’s hand in hers once more. She watched as Eiravelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath, watched as her expression shifted from fear to focus to something that was almost peaceful.

And then Eiravelle was gone, her mind slipping away into Ruthina’s, and Qazaethel was left standing in the infirmary with her daughter in Arielle’s arms and her wife’s body sitting still and silent beside the bed.

She sank into the chair beside Eiravelle, her eyes fixed on her wife’s face, and she waited. She waited as the candles burned low and the shadows lengthened. She waited as Qazaevelle fell asleep in Arielle’s arms and Arielle finally sat down, her own exhaustion catching up with her.

She waited as Liv quietly left to check on the investigation and Dawn slipped out to attend to matters of the court. She waited as the infirmary grew quiet and still, the only sounds the soft breathing of the three sleeping women and the occasional creak of the old stone walls.

She waited, and she watched, and she prayed to gods she had never been sure she believed in. She prayed that Eiravelle would come back. She prayed that Ruthina would be saved. She prayed that the church, the priests, everyone who had ever hurt the people she loved, would pay for what they had done.

She waited, and she did not move. She did not sleep. She did not eat or drink or speak. She simply sat, her hand resting on Eiravelle’s knee, her eyes never leaving her wife’s face.

She would wait for as long as it took. She would wait for an hour, a day, a week. She would wait until the world ended if that was what was required. She had told Eiravelle she would be right back, and Qazaethel was going to hold her to that.

She had already lost too much. She had lost her mother to cruelty and ambition. She had lost her peace of mind to the endless demands of the crown. She had lost the naive belief that the world was fair and kind and just. She would not lose Eiravelle. She would not lose the woman who had shown her what it meant to love and be loved, the woman who had given her a daughter, the woman who had stood by her through everything.

She would not lose her.