Disclaimer: All but Lyra belong to Sarah J Maas
"You look like a team of horses trampled you."
Lyra glanced up from her pastry as Feyre limped inside of the townhouse, looking worn out from both Cassian's brutal lesson this morning and Azriel's flying session. Lyra had trained with Cassian after her, since she had trained with Amren again and even in the few moments she had watched their lesson, she could tell that the High Lady had pushed herself harder then necessary, spurred on by the foul mood left over from the night before.
"Good." Feyre said, before she snatched Mor's pastry right out of her hand and ate it herself. Lyra chuckled as Mor sputtered, before snapping her fingers and a plate of fruit landed in front of her. Feyre caught sight of the letters that Mor been looking through, titling her head to catch a glimpse of what they said. "What's that?"
"The first of the High Lords' responses." Mor said, grabbing a piece of melon between her polished fingers and taking a bit.
"That pleasant, hmmm?" Feyre asked, raising a brow.
"Helion's came first, this morning. Between all the innuendo, I think he said he'd be willing to… join us." Mor explained, taking another bite.
"Helion is Day, right?" Lyra asked, finishing off her own pastry and wiping the left-over stickiness on a napkin. Mor nodded.
"Helion, we weren't worried about. The other two… Thesan, Dawn-" She answered for Lyra before she could ask. "He says he'll come, but won't do it unless it's in a truly neutral and safe location. Kallias… he doesn't trust any of us after… Under the Mountain. He wants to bring armed guards."
Lyra had heard bits and pieces of what had happened Under the Mountain and with this mysterious Amarantha that had held and kept Rhysand from his family for 50 whole years. She had wanted to ask for more details, but the look they all got when it was discussed… she didn't want to broach it after seeing the pain in all of their faces.
"No word from anyone else?" Feyre asked, a glimmer of pain in her eyes. Lyra wasn't sure if she worried more about Tamlin or Baren.
"No. Spring, Autumn and Summer haven't sent a reply." Mor muttered, watching her friend knowingly.
"Isn't the meeting in a couple weeks?" Lyra asked, stealing a piece of fruit from Mor's plate as well and dodging her hand as she smacked at her. "What happens if they don't reply?"
"Then we'll have to decide if Rhys and I will go drag them by their necks to this meeting, or if we'll have it without them." Mor said, a dark glint in her eye at the prospect.
"I'd suggest the second option." Feyre offered, her lips twitching upward. "The first doesn't sound conductive to actually forming an alliance."
"I'm no master negotiator, but I'd have to agree." Lyra said, finishing the piece of fruit she had stollen from Mor.
"We'll see." Mor said simply, shrugging.
There was a pause, Feyre looking between them as she seemed to mull over this information. Something flickered in her face, seeming to struggle with whatever was on her mind before she blew out a breath. "About last night-"
"It's fine. It's nothing." Mor said quickly, waving her hand. Feyre frowned, clearly seeing past Mor's dismissal.
"It's not nothing. You're allowed to feel that way." Feyre insisted, finally taking a seat next to Lyra.
"Well, it won't help us win this war." Mor muttered, fluffing her hair.
"No. But… I'm not sure what to say." Feyre stumbled, watching her friend worriedly.
"I understand why Rhys did it. The position we were in. Eris is… you know what he is like. And if he was indeed threatening to sell information about your gifts to his father… Mother above, I would have made the same bargain with Eris to keep Beron from hunting you." Mor paused, her eyes softening and Feyre looked a bit relieved. "It's just… my father knew – the second he heard of this place, he probably knew what it meant to me. There would have been no other asking price for my father's help in this war. None. Rhys knew that as well. Tried to bring Eris in to sweeten the deal for my father – to possibly avoid this outcome with Velaris altogether."
Lyra and Feyre looked to Mor curiously, and Mor gave a little shrug, explaining, "We talked – Rhys and I. This morning. While Cassian was kicking your ass."
Feyre snorted, though she nodded and Lyra saw that last bit of tension seemed to ease from Feyre's shoulder. She looked at Lyra for a moment, an odd look on her face before she then looked to Mor and said carefully, "What about Azriel?"
"We spoke last night. He was sorry." Lyra offered to Mor, who nodded knowingly. Feyre was looking at her, that same odd, cautious look on her face and before she could question her, she had turned away.
"I know." Mor muttered, letting out a long sigh as she picked at a piece of melon. "Az… he had a tough call to make, when Eris found him. He… I don't know why I expected him to side with me, why it caught me so off guard. It just… It all took me by surprise. And I will never be happy about any of these terms, but my father wins, Eris wins, all the males like them win if I let it get to me. If I let it impact my joy, my life. My relationships with all of you." She paused, letting out a tired sigh to glance at the ceiling. "I hate war."
"Likewise." Feyre said softly.
"Not just for the death and awfulness." Mor specified, looking tired. "But because of what it does to us. These decisions."
"I understand Game of Thrones more now." Lyra muttered, earning a raised brow and amused smile from Mor.
"Another thing from your world I won't understand?" Mor teased and Lyra grinned, shrugging.
"My topical jokes and references are wasted on all of you." Lyra sighed and Feyre gave a light laugh before a knock sounded from the foyer. Feyre looked confused for a moment, glancing toward the clock before realization dawned.
"Are you going to answer the door, or should I?" Mor asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm and Feyre threw her a middle finger that had Lyra snorting.
"Is that the healer for Elain?" Lyra asked. Feyre's nervous look was answer enough.
"Yes. And if you need anything," Mor said, reaching out to grip Feyre's hand tightly. "We'll be right here."
Feyre smiled gratefully, squeezing her hand back. "As will I."
Lyra recognized the healer that had visited her in her first week or so here, one of the only Fae that she had seen with wrinkles and grey hair. She smiled at Lyra and Mor kindly as she entered and then bowed her head respectfully to Feyre. "High Lady." She murmured, her wrinkled hands clasping Feyre's as she extended a to her.
"Thank you for coming, Madja." Feyre said, offering the healer a smile. "She's upstairs."
Madja nodded, following after Feyre up the stairs to where Elain was sitting in her room, as she had all that time in the House of Wind and now here. She had at least sat out in the garden when they had first come down, watching the flowers with Azriel, but since then Lyra had only seen her come down the night before. Elain was beautiful, but that lost, broken look in her eyes and the hollowness to her face had been sad and haunting. It reminded Lyra eerily of when she had first come here, lost in her head and unable to accept this new, strange place.
"Do you think she can help?" Lyra whispered to Mor, who had watched them retreat upstairs worriedly.
"I don't know." Mor admitted, flashing Lyra a sad smile. "You don't feel anything from her?"
"She has some kind of magic." Lyra explained, just as she had to Feyre when she had asked her. "But its nothing like Amren's or Nesta's. I can't really tell what it is."
Lucien came down moments later, having clearly been kicked out of his room either by Nesta or Feyre to give them privacy as Madja looked over his mate. He glanced at them, that golden eye clicking and seated himself in one of the chairs of the living room, where he stared nervously at the clock and Lyra could tell he was listening to every single movement up above. Lyra hadn't had much time around Lucien, having mostly chosen to avoid him after their first meeting and he seemed fine to avoid her as well. Whether it was because of Azriel's warning or he was still unnerved by her, she wasn't sure.
They sat in mostly silence, Lucien's clicking eye and his shaking leg the only sound as they all waited. It was about a half hour before they heard the door open upstairs, movement alerting them to the healer, Feyre and Nesta leaving the room. Lucien shot up, his hand twitching nervously at his side as he stared up at the stairs.
"… you mean, nothing is wrong with her?" Nesta was hissing above and Mor flinched, giving Lyra a worried look. Mor stood, hovering in the doorway as Madja made her way to the bottom of the steps.
"What I mean is that I can find nothing wrong with her. Her body is fine – too thin and in need of more food and fresh air, but nothing amiss. And as for her mind… I cannot enter it." Madja explained, surprisingly calm while standing in front of a clearly fuming Nesta.
"She has a shield?" Feyre asked, looking surprised.
"She is Cauldron Made. It is the same as when I tried to look at Lyra." Madja explained, nodding toward where she stood behind Mor and then looked to Nesta. "You are not like the rest of us. I cannot pierce the places it left it's mark most deeply. And I would not try if I were you, Lady."
"But do you think there's something wrong, even if there are no signs?" Nesta asked, those grey blue eyes focused sharply on the healer.
"I have seen victims of trauma before. Her symptoms match well with many of those invisible wounds. But… she was also Made by something I do not understand. Is there something wrong with her?" Madja repeated, thinking over the words herself. "I do not like that word… wrong. Different perhaps. Changed."
"Does she need further help?" Nesta snapped, all but baring her teeth at Madja, who simply watched her with those ancient, kind eyes.
"See what he can do." Madja said, nodding toward where Lucien still hovered cautiously behind them, soaking up all the information on his mate greedily. "If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it's a mate."
"How." Nesta growled and Lyra swore she was almost vibrating in anger. Feyre gave her sister a disapproving look.
"The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls." Majda said simply, before turning and shuffling toward the door. She paused, her withered hand on the door knob before looking again at Lucien. "Try sitting down with her. Just talking – sensing. See what you can pick up. But don't push."
She was gone, the door clicking softly behind her and Feyre whirled on Nesta, a flash of rage in her eyes. "A little respect, Nesta-"
"Call another healer." Was Nesta's only answer, glaring back at her sister and squaring her shoulders.
"Not if you're going to bark them out of the house." Feyre argued, glaring at her.
"Call another healer."
Mor moved toward them, looking ready to pull them apart if the need came and Nesta's nostril's flared, anger flashing in her eyes as she turned on Mor. As if daring her to weigh in on the matter. Lyra grimaced, still remaining back but even that didn't stop Nesta from giving her a glare as well.
"Would you try it?" Feyre asked Lucien. Nesta barred her teeth, looking as though she would rather kill Lucien then allow him near her sister. Lyra wouldn't put it past her.
"Don't you even attempt-"
"Be quiet." Feyre snapped, standing up a bit straighter as her sister blinked at her in shock. Feyre's teeth flashed, anger rising in her. "He will try. And if he doesn't find anything amiss, we'll consider bringing another healer."
"You're just going to drag her down here?"
"I'm going to invite her." Feyre said simply, raising her chin.
Nesta turned on Mor and Lyra, glaring between them and Lyra could see that she knew she was going to lose this fight. "And what will you two be doing?"
"We'll be sitting with Feyre." Mor said, flashing Nesta a smile which only served to anger her further. "Keeping an eye on things."
Lyra almost snorted, feeling like some kind of chaperon and Lucien clearly thought the same thing, because he mumbled something about not needing to be monitored. When they looked to him, he merely sighed, raising his hands in defeat before trudging up the stairs to freshen up.
"This is going to be fun." Lyra muttered, flinching when Nesta gave her a dark glare before storming up the stairs herself. Lyra worried for a moment she was going to threaten Lucien, but she heard her door slam shut behind her and Feyre sighed tiredly, rubbing her face. Mor squeezed her friends' shoulder, before heading toward the kitchen to grab some tea for all of them. Feyre practically fell into the chair at the table and Lyra slid in across from her.
"If Madja thinks this will work, I'm sure it will." She assured her, giving her a reassuring smile.
"I hope so." Feyre whispered, worry making her face tight. "Because I don't think another healer will help."
"She may just need more time." Lyra said softly, looking down at her palm where that cut had been from her first night. "It wasn't pretty when I first came either. Just keep reaching out to her, like Mor did me."
Feyre flashed her a small smile, some of that tension seeming to ease. "Mor is good at that."
"She is." Lyra grinned, leaning back in her chair. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Lucien's footsteps creaking above as he moved around his room. "What exactly is a mate?"
Feyre blinked, surprised by the question. "I thought it was maybe the Fae term for wife or husband," Lyra explained, shrugging. "But I'm guessing that's wrong if your sister and Lucien barely know each other. And then what Madja said…"
"It's something… deeper than that." Feyre said, her eyes dropping to her tattooed hand, fingers running over the swirls there. "It is like what Madja said. A literal bond between two Fae that connects their souls."
"Like… soul mates?" Lyra asked, not able to stop the snort that escaped. "I'm guessing it's not the 'love at first sight, teen romance' crap, right? Although, Lucien seems to care for Elain-"
"It's not love at first sight." Feyre said, a huff of a laugh escaping as she looked at that sparkling ring on her finger, twirling it. "I was still engaged and in love with Tamlin when the mating bond was in place for Rhys and me. He felt it, the males usually do before the females, but I didn't until much later. We made a bargain Under the Mountain and I thought that was why I felt connected to him, but it was always the bond."
"What does it… feel like?" Lyra asked curiously and Feyre became thoughtful, her brow furrowing as she thought over the words.
"The way everyone describes it, 'like a bridge between souls', it really is pretty accurate." Feyre said, shrugging as she gave her a half smile. "It's like there is a tether, a cord between us. I can feel him through it and he can feel me. I don't know if it's like that for others, but…"
Something about the words pulled at Lyra, a memory that she had almost forgotten floating through her head. That cord, silver, glittering in the water of the Cauldron, yanking on her and leading her to the surface of those black waters. It had seemed to connect to her ribs, pulling from inside her chest.
She wasn't sure why she thought of that, but she ran her fingers over the spot where it had tugged on her, like she could find it again if she tried hard enough.
"Lyra?"
She blinked, blushing at Feyre's concerned look. "Sorry, just uh-"
"Have you felt…" Feyre asked, hesitating a moment though her eyes were glittering with curiosity and question. "Have you-"
"Mint tea alright?" Mor asked, cups and a mug tinkling as she carefully brought it into the room. Feyre bit her lip, looking slightly disappointed by her friend's interruption but she flashed her a smile and nodded.
"Thanks, Mor." Feyre said, her face smoothing out, that curiosity leaving her. Lyra watched her, confused by that look that had been on her face. Like she seemed to understand what Lyra had been thinking about. "I'll go get Elain and Lucien."
Azriel watched Elain as she looked over the flowers she had planted a few days before, barely sprouting out of the ground, her eyes alight with more life then he had seen in all her time here. She was such a fragile, small thing and the way she looked sometimes, so lost and dazed, reminded him painfully of how Lyra had looked in those beginning days.
He poured over his reports as she continued to tend to the garden, his shadows tucked away to not alarm her. She didn't seem fazed by them the first time he had brought her here, but he had pushed them down just to make sure.
It had been a couple days since he and Lyra had had tea in that dining room and he had little time to see her again since then between her trainings and his spying. But when he did, he felt that deep pain in the pit of his stomach, those words still echoing in her ears. He tried to remain normal around her, to push that pain down but it still ate at him. So much the others had begun to notice and Rhys had even dared to ask what was wrong with him, not seeming to understand where his moody anger was coming from now that he and Mor were fine. He had merely said nothing, giving him a look that meant he didn't wish to speak about it.
Elain started, her back going ram rod straight as she whipped her head toward the city, eyes wide and the sudden movement broke him out of his own thoughts. "Elain?" He asked, worry churning in his stomach as he looked to the middle sister. She turned toward him, those eyes so wide he saw the whites around them. "What's wrong?"
"The Ravens have come." She whispered breathlessly, her hands shaking in her lap. "And the Scorpion. To bring back what he thinks is his."
Azriel tilted his head, watching her cautiously as she stood, her heart thudding against her chest. "Elain, it's alright. We are safe-"
She whipped toward him, reaching out and gripping his hand with surprising strength considering how thin and weak she had become. Mor, who had been going over the letters from the High Lord's inside, had come out, looking concerned as she glanced between them. "You must go. If the Scorpion stings the Light, you'll lose half your heart. He will do terrible things with her, with what glows inside her."
Mor stared, confused as she met Azriel's gaze. But he stared into those frantic eyes, her cold fingers on his, something stirring in his mind. "Elain," Mor said, her voice calming and kind. "Perhaps it's time to come inside-"
Before she could finish the sentence, he felt the world shift, seeming to almost shake. It wasn't visible, but he could feel as the wards around the city seemed to shatter and fracture, falling away like shards of glass. Mor froze, looking toward the city with alarm but Elain stared at him, jerking his hand. "Go. You have to go to her before he stings her."
Azriel wasn't sure how he knew who she meant, but the words seem to click into place and before Mor could even look back at him, he pulled the shadows to him and winnowed into the city.
He wasn't sure where Lyra was and he cursed himself for it. She had taken books into the city, helping to research the Wall for Feyre and at the same time practice blocking out all the people around her as Amren had instructed. She didn't know many places in Velaris, having only ventured out a couple of times with Mor and Amren for her practice.
He stood, scarred hand on Truth Teller, his heart beating frantically in his chest as he tried to think back to where Mor had said she had taken her. People were filing past him, fear in their faces as they took in his fighting stance, could feel that power that had broken the wards around the city. He pushed through the crowd as they began to run and find shelter, trying to catch her scent or her strawberry blonde curls in the crowd.
Then he heard the screams and he felt her, that pulsing, shuddering power of hers. He shot up, flying over the crowd toward it, panic and fear leaving a horrible taste in his mouth.
He saw the male first, dressed in dark, sleek leathers, a large, deadly sword slung across his back. He had deep red hair, almost the color of blood, slicked back from his face. Lyra was several feet from him, her eyes wide and frantic as she took a panicked step back from him. Azriel became shadow, their cold swirling around him as he put himself between her and the male, baring his teeth at him as he reemerged.
He grinned, his eyes, which were so brown they almost looked black, glittering with dark amusement as Azriel pushed Lyra behind him, the other hand pulling Truth Teller from it's place on his hip. The male's grin widened, his head tilting as he studied Azriel.
"The King has come to claim what is his, Shadowsinger." The male said, his voice rough, dark. He looked past Azriel, as though he was of no consequence to him, those dark eyes running over Lyra's body in a way that made Azriel snarl. "Hand her over and you may keep your life. For now."
Lyra shook behind him and he could almost feel her frantic fear as the male took a slow step toward them. He brushed his fingers over her sleeve, his grip tightening on Truth Teller as he whispered, "Run when I say so."
"Last chance, Bastard." The male called, pulling the sword from his back, the steel flashing as he twisted it in his hand. "Is the bitch really worth dying for?"
He snarled, shadows hissing and gathering around him. "Now." He ordered, before shoving the shadows outward, surrounding both him and the male in darkness. Lyra stumbled away from him, her footsteps harsh against the pavement and he launched himself toward the redhead.
Despite the darkness pushing in around him, the male dodged Azriel's lunge with surprising grace, his steel slashing out toward Azriel. He jerked back, the metal missing him before he slipped into the shadows again, winnowing toward the male's back, Truth Teller poised to land right at the back of his neck, just above where the leathers ended. But he whirled, throwing a burning dust into his face and sent Azriel stumbling backward. The males dark laugh echoed as Azriel felt his power, both Illyrian and the shadows begin to slip away, leaving a hollow, horrible void inside him. He panted, the Faebane making him hazy and he barely missed the slash of the male's sword.
"Is she really worth it, a bloody, horrible death?" The male taunted, watching Azriel as the last of his shadows retreated, blowing away on the wind. "What cunt, no matter how pretty, is worth that?"
Azriel glared, baring his teeth at him as he circled, watching the male cautiously. He moved slowly around him, that sword twirling in his hand. Taunting him. "Perhaps I'll see for myself. He only specified alive, didn't say I could not take a taste before I returned her."
Azriel snarled, rage spurring him toward the male as he lunged toward him. The male twirled, graceful and agile, laughing as he did. He slashed at Azriel, who blocked with Truth Teller, the metal clanging heavily against the blade, before he shoved back and dodged him. He was good, good enough to make Azriel nervous.
They danced around each other, the male swinging and slashing so fast it took everything for Azriel to keep out of the blades path. He only grinned at Azriel's evasion, those black eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Perhaps I'll fuck her with your blood still on my hands, Shadowsinger." The male laughed, pushing a red hair from his forehead, grinning as Azriel glared back at him.
He came at Azriel again, but as Azriel darted back, he fainted and switched directions, that sword slashing and digging into Azriel's side, slicing through his leathers with a hiss, magic sparking and Azriel cried out, the wound burning his skin. He stumbled back, his scarred fingers grabbing at it, blood dripping through his fingers. It burned, more than a normal cut and his heart thudded painfully against his chest, realizing the sword had to be poisoned. He could feel it spreading across his skin, that scorching crawling upward. The male gave a feral grin. Scorpion indeed.
"A special blend, made by the King himself." The redhead smiled, lifting his blade to watch with dark satisfaction as Azriel's blood dripped down the blade.
"Let him go."
Azriel froze, his heart thudding painfully as the male turned, those black eyes on Lyra as she stumbled out from a space between two buildings. "Lyra…" He hissed, gritting his teeth as he tried to force himself up. But that fire was spreading, down toward his leg and he fell to his knee. "Go. Now."
"What will you do if I spare him, sweet Lyra?" The male asked, a savage look on his face as he took a step toward her. Lyra flinched, her hand shaking at her side, fingers clenched but she held his gaze, her chin held high. "Will you get on your knees for me?"
She paled, swallowing thickly, but didn't waver.
"Don't Lyra." Azriel growled, the words filling him with a horrible dread. He forced himself up, pushing that fire down deep, to that dark place within him. That place that had been born in that cellar, from pain and torture. He launched himself desperately at him, distracting him as he yelled for Lyra to run.
He deflected Azriel easily, shoving him back and slashing that sword across his arm and the blood splattered against the pavement. Azriel stumbled back, legs giving out beneath him. In a flash of smoke and darkness, the male winnowed right behind Lyra and his fingers grabbed at her hair, digging into her scalp and yanked her toward him. She cried out, stumbling as he forced her to look at him and delighted in her fear.
"No!" Azriel cried, that fire spreading, his eyes stinging from it. He all but crawled toward her, a dread like nothing he had felt before threading through him.
"I will have fun with you." He whispered, his fingers grabbing at her face, digging into her skin as he forced her face toward him.
Lyra went still at that, at those fingers scrapping against her chin, seeming to freeze in utter terror. Azriel watched, the whole world seeming to freeze with her before she erupted.
Her eyes lit first, becoming an unearthly white and then her hands as she shoved them against the male's chest. Those black eyes widened, looking confused for half a moment before he cried out and jerked away from Lyra. He released her as he stumbled back, those handprints glowing on his leathers, hissing and pulsing. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around his neck and he screamed, a horrible, almost animalistic sound, that glowing spreading over him and seeming to leak into his veins. His back arched, that screaming echoing as Lyra gasped, moving away from him and that glowing almost sputtering completely out as she watching in horror.
The male fell back, his body twitching and that screaming died out as the glow overtook him completely. There was a heartbeat of silence, both Lyra and Azriel watching that flaring, glowing body before the power burst out, blinding light flaring. Azriel twisted away, his eyes closing instinctually and he heard Lyra gasp as the power flowed over them. It ended just as quickly as it had begun, the light snuffed out and when Azriel looked back nothing remained of the male but scorch marks marring the stones.
Lyra stared, horror and fear on her face as she looked down at her shaking hands, fingers glowing faintly with that power.
"Lyra…" He whispered, his voice hoarse. "It's alright, Lyra."
His words seemed to bring her back and she whipped toward him, eyes widening as she took him in. She rushed to his side, that power still seeming to pulse from her as she dropped to her knees in front of him. "Az, I'm so sorry." She choked out, taking in his wounds, the blood and tears filled her eyes.
"It's not your fault." He whispered, gritting his teeth against that burning. "Are you injured?"
"Azriel…" She whimpered, tears leaking from her eyes. "I… I-"
That power of hers pulsed between them again, flaring and she stared at that slash at his side, the blood and her face went blank, trance like. "Lyra?" He said, brow furrowing, trying to ignore that pain overtaking him. "Lyra-"
She reached out, those glowing fingers running over the slash on his arm slowly. He froze, watching the skin knit itself back together and that fire that had spread through him slowly dissipated. She did the same to the one at his side, that skin slowly melding back together and extinguishing any pain along with it.
She shuddered when she was done, swaying slighting and coming back to herself. She blinked, her brow furrowing as she stared at his now healed side. "I didn't know… I-"
"Lyra, are you harmed?" He asked, gently lifting her chin and forcing her to look at him. He saw Hybern's warrior's fingerprints bruising her pale skin, but he smelled no blood, saw no other harm.
"I'm fine." She whispered, though she was shaking, whether from fear of what she had done or from exhaustion, he wasn't sure. He stood, legs slightly shaky and he helped her took her feet as well. "What did I do?" She gasped, those tears leaking down her cheeks as she looked back, took in those scorch marks with horror. He pulled her face back to him, made her meet his gaze as he brushed those tears away.
"You saved us. You saved me." He said, before pulling her to him. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, still shaking and he buried his face in her hair, thanking the Mother, the Cauldron and anyone else who was listening that she was safe, unharmed. "You are safe."
She only held him tighter.