J'ai une idée (phrase) I have an idea

I hissed out a curse.

They were coming for me.

Just like I knew they would.

Clutching the babe at my breast, I took off through the trees, my white wolf howling as she sprinted ahead to clear the path. The brown wolf kept pace beside me, and I was happy for his company.

New fallen snow made the ground slick, but I didn't dare to stop.

Faster and faster we ran, trying to outrun them, but the drumbeat of hooves grew louder. I stumbled and felt something crack. Pain lanced through my body before everything went black.

I gasped, sitting straight up in bed. My pulse racing so fast I could barely breathe.

Bastien was standing beside the hearth, holding a fresh bundle of wood for the fire.

He was dressed in attire I'd grown used to seeing him in. A bright white tunic shirt and black trousers tucked into tall leather riding boots. His hair had been pulled into a loose knot at the base of his neck, and a few shorter strands of cool blonde hair framed his face.

A sense of relief flooded through me at the familiar sight of him.

I wasn't in the woods. I wasn't being chased. It was all just a dream. Nothing more. Just a silly dream.

But if it was a dream, why were my wolves at the foot of the bed, panting like they'd been running for their lives, too?

Wolves didn't dream. Did they?

"Claire?"  Bastien rushed to set down the wood to stand beside me. "Are you quite well?"

I nodded, running my fingers through my knotted hair and finding it damp with sweat.

"Yes, I'm fine," I answered quickly.

Nothing was wrong...but an unsettling feeling sat in my gut.

"Just a bad dream is all."

I glanced toward the window, and found the sky was the bruised grayish blue of twilight, and my body ached from laying in one place for too long.

I didn't know how long I was asleep, but I had the feeling it was quite some time.

Bastien placed a cool hand on my cheek, and I leaned into his touch, relishing the feel of his palm.

"Whatever it was, you're safe," he said definitively.

I nodded again, trying to catch my breath and order my thoughts, but I was so disoriented. The dream felt so real.

And the baby...

"This cut looks better," he whispered, more to himself than to me.

He reached for a pot of salve that smelled of frankincense sitting on a bedside table and gingerly applied more to the wound.

I winced, and Bastien muttered an apology under his breath.

I watched him as he worked, a line of concentration forming between his brows. Choosing to focus on his face instead of what he was doing. Then, he moved to the gash on my hand. Carefully removing the bolt of linen, cleaning it with a damp towel and soap, and applying more salve. 

Tears rushed to my eyes, and I bit my lip to keep from showing weakness. Not because it hurt like hell, even though it did, but because being cared for like this was a new and wholly overwhelming experience for me.

I was no longer the Ghost of Proctor Hill, so unseen and unheard that a cut or a bruise would go unnoticed.

To Bastien, I was a moonflower. A beautiful blossom that was deserving of his care and attention. 

Once he was done, Bastien wiped his hands on a towel, but I noticed the furrow between his brows had deepened.

Something was haunting him, and–because he didn't sleep–I didn't think it was the memory of a bad dream.

After expelling a long breath, Bastien held my gaze and said, "We need to discuss our trip to the Lawless Lands."

My spine straightened.

Of course. That's what was bothering him. He still needed to handle the peace agreement. The one that would take us away from the castle yet again. The one that was so pressing, Prince Marius had reminded Bastien of its importance the night we met.

I readjusted the sheet, studying that line between his brows. "Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like what you have to say?"

He offered me a rare half grin, then touched the side of my face before settling next to me on the bed.

"Perhaps it's because you can sense my emotions as keenly as I can sense yours?"

It was true. I could sense his emotions when our connection was open, but little by little, I was starting to know Bastien well enough that I didn't need to solely rely on it.

I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. Could he see the terror lingering from the dream? The anticipation of this conversation?

"I've been researching the spell that awakened your magick, and I have an idea." He paused, rolling his lips together before continuing.

I leaned forward, waiting for what he would say next. Trying and failing not to conjure thoughts of that cold graveyard. 

"I think I can help you access your powers. But... to do that..."

He hesitated again.

I waited, nerves twisted away inside my chest.

What could he possibly do to help me access my dark powers, and the bigger question–did I want to have those powers? Did I want to be the dark thing I'd grown up fearing?

My wolves grew restless at the foot of the bed, and the white one's paw landed possessively on my ankle. Her big brown eyes shined back at me, as wide as moons.

A strange sense of familiarity rolled through me as I stared back at her, and it was so unsettling that I forced myself to focus on Bastien again.

Only...his gaze had drifted to the thick black lace choker around my neck.

Why in Diana's name was he focusing on that?

I waited for him to finish his sentence, barely daring to breathe. There was apprehension in the lines around his mouth. And by the way he was grinding his teeth together, I knew he didn't want to say what was on his mind.

But...I was starting to know Bastien, and without reading his emotions, I could sense what he was thinking.

The choker.

I shook my head as understanding dawned. My disbelief quickly turned into terror.

"Bastien, no."

"If I could remove your necklace–"

"That is not an option," I replied sharply. My hands starting to shake as bands of tension tightened around my throat.

"It is the only option."

"No, it's not," I argued, pushing out of the covers and sliding off the bed. Cold fingers of dread fitted around my neck, squeezing tighter.

It was laughable to think he could break the curse on Mama's choker. As powerful as he was, I knew it wasn't possible. None but a true-blooded Proctor could release me from my vow. 

I wasn't keen on summoning Mama to Bastien's chateau to ask for a favor. Nor could I ask Sera to absolve me from a vow that was made to protect her.

I'd sworn to find out all I could about the relics and the vampires or forfeit my life trying. There would be no negotiations on the matter. To Mama, this mission was do or die.

I needed to put distance between us with all the thoughts racing in my head, but Bastien only followed me. I turned my back to him, unable to meet his steady gaze.

"Fine, it's not the only option," he admitted, "but it's the only one that keeps you safe. I won't be able to focus if you're unprotected in the Lawless Lands."

I froze in place.

There it was again.

The same voice in my head that told me I was just a useless, magickless witch who was good for nothing but tending the crows and the gardens.

It shouted at me–telling me I wasn't worthy of the Proctor name and that no man of worth would ever want me.

It had been quieted for a while after I'd made flames leap from the earth, but it was back to remind me of how useless I truly was.

I couldn't even be a proper abomination–dark magick having fled from my body as soon as it settled under my skin.

That feeling smoldered in my belly like a hot ember and climbed a ladder of shame straight up my throat.

I spun on my heel, tears burning in my throat along with the shame, and pointed a finger at Bastien's chest. The words tore from some dark, deeply sad place inside me that I couldn't escape from.

"You don't have to worry about me. I won't burden you."

I thought to push him away–to make him see I wasn't worth his time or worry. To stop him from pressing the idea that I could somehow be saved from this curse. But Bastien was clearly prepared for my reaction.

He grabbed my wrist, holding my palm flat against his bloodstone. The beat of my own heart pounding against my skin.

"You're not a burden," he said roughly. Holding my hand in place when I tried to rip it away.

"I know what I am."

A burden. Useless.

He didn't have to admit it for me to know the truth.

But Bastien held steadfast. Holding my gaze with matching intensity. 

"No matter what you've been told, you're not a burden to me. You're my wife. And more importantly, you have magick."

He was forceful and gentle at the same time, and the weight of his compassion settled on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

He bit his lip, staring at me hard in the eye before continuing.

"I believe there is some horrible spell on this choker getting in the way of that magick. I can feel it's malice. It infects your blood."

Perhaps it was true. Perhaps the collar fixed around my neck was preventing the change. But even if it was, I was helpless to do anything about it.

I'd been sent to him for a very specific purpose. And that purpose wasn't to embrace dark magick.

"I don't need magick!" I shouted back at him. "I have my wolves. And besides, I can be a ghost when I want to be."

I tried to rip my arm away from him again, and this time, he let me go.

Every lie I ever told him about my history burned right alongside the shame of being useless. I'd do anything to stop feeling this way, even if it meant pushing him away to keep him from asking me any more questions about Mama's necklace and to stop the terrible doubts that arose around my family.

A charged silence formed between us, and I wondered if he'd storm off and leave me alone to stew in my frustrations. Part of me hoped for it. I could fall apart alone. Cry and rage and burn through all the shame eating me up from the inside out.

But the damned vampire prince didn't budge. The only move he made was to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear and blow out an exasperated breath.

"You're being stubborn," he said, more calmly this time.

I narrowed my eyes. "And so are you."

For the first time in many weeks, I saw a flicker of the dangerous monster hiding behind his princely features. The stony warrior that bore the scars of war. He took a step forward, crowding into my space until I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.

"I have a reason to be stubborn."

I swallowed hard, knowing he was reliving some unspeakable violence behind those ice blue eyes.

"You've spent your whole life under the protection of ancient magick that has kept these lands in relative peace." Bastien pointed out his window, his intensity rebuilding with every word. "You don't know what lies past the mountains. You haven't seen the covens who practice without mercy. The rogue demons. The creatures who prowl the dark woods. You don't know what it was like before the Blood Treaty. You need more protection."

The truth of his admission gave me pause. I'd overheard enough about the Lawless Lands to know they were dangerous. A place where demons walked free.

Perhaps he wasn't wrong, and having magick would be beneficial. But if Mama's curse was preventing my dark magick from taking root, then there was nothing I could do about it.

I touched the black lace, letting my fingers slide along the material that circled my neck, trying to make sense of all this.

"Tell me why you're so scared of this necklace," Bastien asked with an edge of command to his voice, which made my defenses shoot up like the drawbridge of a chateau under attack.

"I'm not scared."

He leaned in another inch, and his cool breath fanned across my face. He was so close that I could count every one of his thick eyelashes if I wanted to.

"You're lying."

The accusal hung in the following silence.

I wanted to shout back another denial, but I couldn't get the words out.

Because...

Because...

My bloodstone warmed under my thin nightgown, and the rest of my body flushed red with emotion.

Despite everything I'd been told about vampires and their disgusting nature, I didn't want to keep lying to him.

Things had changed between us.

No, everything had changed between us.

Only, I didn't know how to tell him the truth without losing the only man who'd ever truly loved me.

Bastien lowered his voice. "Tell me why you refuse to have this cursed collar removed."

🙊🙊🙈🙈

Who says she decides to tell him the truth?

Who says she keeps it to herself?