Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(135)

“I will ask one thing more of you before I let you sleep,” he whispered.

She slid her arms around him as she replied, “Anything, Lo.”

“I wish you to listen to me.”

She nodded, her head moving on the pillow, her eyes never leaving his. “Of course, honey.”

He cupped her cheek and dipped his face close before he began, “At first, we missed it.”

He watched her blink in confusion but he went on.

“The time she carried Élan, like with Christophe, was uneventful.”

When understanding dawned, Apollo felt Maddie’s body tighten under his but he continued.

“The birth, however, was complicated. Christophe slid easily into this world. Élan gave Ilsa more difficulty.”

“Apollo—” she whispered and he pressed the pads of his finger in.

“Listen,” he whispered back.

She closed her mouth and nodded again.

“Looking back, due to the birth, we both missed it. Even she, a physician. We thought her body was taking its time recovering from bringing Élan into this world. The extreme fatigue. The constant lethargy. Though, even if we caught it, there was nothing to be done.”

“All right,” Maddie whispered when he didn’t go on.

“And then it happened fast,” he told her softly. “She just started wasting away.”

She closed her eyes.

Apollo slid his hand to her neck and she opened them again.

“We disagreed about Christophe, Ilsa and I,” he shared. “She thought like a physician, sometimes clinically. Thus, she felt that life was life and, even for children, it was not wise to shelter them from it too much. He was only four. So very young. I did not want him to see his mother that way. To remember her that way. She was energetic. Lively, in her way. Not like Élan, the way she had was all Ilsa’s. I didn’t want him to see her thin, gaunt, in pain. I didn’t want him to remember her that way. She wished to see her son, but I denied her. I did this for Christophe. I struggle still if I made the right decision.”

“You did,” she said gently, her arms around him tightening.

His Maddie, so loyal, telling him what he wanted to hear.

“I will never know if you speak true, my Maddie,” he murmured. “They had a bond, much like what he has with me. And if it were me abed, my power stripped, sickness eating away at me, pain crippling me, I would wish him not to see me like that. I would wish him to remember his father as vital. Jovial. Whole.”

“So you did the right thing,” she replied.

“He did not see her at all the three months before she passed. I robbed them both of each other to protect my son.”

Maddie swallowed but said nothing.

“It was torture,” he whispered.

She pulled her arms from around him so she could slide them up his chest, his neck, to frame his face as she murmured an aching, “Honey.”

“All of it was, Madeleine, watching her waste away, watching the pain consume her, keeping our son from her. Torture. Every moment.”

Her hands on him lightly squeezed.

“Tonight, the black mist took you, and I felt all that torture, months of it, condensed in an instant,” he declared and her eyes grew wide. “It was the most excruciating moment of my life.”

At that, he watched her eyes fill with tears.

“Baby,” she breathed.

Suddenly, he found his fingers shoving up into her hair, the pads digging into her scalp and he brought his face to a breath from hers. “Tonight we learned we must hold tight to happiness, my dove. Every day…every moment…is a gift. We must hold tight to that, Madeleine, and never let go.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He slid his nose along hers until their eyes were so close, if either of them blinked, their lashes would sweep the others’.

“I will not lose you,” he growled.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” she soothed.

Apollo drew in a deep breath, released it then slanted his head so he could brush his mouth lightly against hers.

Only when he pulled back an inch did he reply, “You are, indeed.”

She gave him a shaky smile.

“Thank you, my dove, for fighting so hard this night to save a life I cherish.”

Her shaky smile wobbled as her face began to crumble but he saw no more when she lifted her head and shoved it in his neck.

“You-you-you’re welcome,” she stammered into his skin.

He gave her his weight for a brief moment in order to wrap his arms around her before he rolled them to their sides.

Putting his lips to her hair, he whispered, “Now you can sleep.”

She took a shuddering breath that was half sniveling, half chortling and nodded, her face now pressed to his throat.

He held her close and stroked her back as she gained control of her emotions. When she did, she slid a hand from where it was pressed to his chest, rounding him with her arm, and she pressed closer.

Many minutes later, when her body had loosened, her breath had evened and he thought her close to sleep, she called a drowsy, “Lo?”

And, gods, but he treasured it when she called him “Lo.”

“Yes, poppy,” he replied, giving her a squeeze.

He felt her frame tense slightly when she began, “You know that I, uh…well, I um…pretty much cherish you too, right?”