When I returned to the present, the room was completely silent. Henry still held my hand, though he also held a bucket in case I needed to be sick. Leon watched me closely, as if trying to decipher my mental state. Gabriel, Philippe, and Roger looked on from the doorway in horrified silence. I hadn't been thrilled about having them here during such a vulnerable time, but we'd ultimately agreed we needed as many brains on the case as possible. Besides, I was discovering that I didn't really mind having so many friends around—this really was a strange new world for me.
"Do you want me to bring you out of the ether, Ella?" Leon finally asked, and I realized he hadn't been forced to give me the antidote this time. I was still floating under the influence of the drug, still in the safe embrace of the high despite the horrible things I'd just remembered. I wasn't feeling them yet, not processing, and I didn't think I wanted to. I shook my head in refusal, moving my hand to my belly. The baby reached out to me through our bond, uncertain and afraid. Had he understood my fear, my helplessness? Or did he only know that I was suffering? "Can I have something nice?" I requested, not truly knowing what I wanted or needed.
"Something for the baby?"
"I have just the thing," Henry replied, pulling out his phone. He pressed a button, and the sound of Sinclair's purrs filled the air. I'd forgotten I'd sent him the recording my mate had provided earlier, but now I was beyond glad I had. Rafe and I instantly calmed, and though longing for Sinclair tugged viciously at my heart, I sank deeper into the plush sofa and tried to lose myself in the cozy sound.
"Anything else?" Henry inquired, stroking my hair.
"Do we have any popsicles?" I sniffled, and for the first time I realized my cheeks were soaked with tears. For a moment, I reveled in the sensation of the salty moisture on my skin, of the burning in my eyes. Everything seemed so different in this state, and I could have spent hours exploring the feelings—if only I didn't have to dig into my past as well.
"I'll check the kitchen, and if they're out I'll get some," Roger promised, slipping out of the room.
"Let's talk about what just happened," Leon suggested once I'd relaxed. Of course, this was the last thing I wanted to do. Now that the memory was over, I wanted to leave it in the past where it belonged.
"Do we have to?" I inquired in a small voice, trying to disappear into the couch. "Stupid sofa," my wolf thought, "I want my nest! Why do we keep doing this here? It's all lumpy and there aren't nearly enough pillows. Where am I supposed to be now?"
"I think we should," Leon answered gently, interrupting my inner animal. "We didn't talk about our last session because it was so distressing, but you seem steadier now." He paused, and when I didn't respond, he continued. "I know you're only doing this to find answers for the war, but my job isn't the answers, Ella—it's not even the war. My job is your mental health; it's helping you understand and deal with the things we discover in a productive way."
"Dominic wouldn't make me," I countered petulantly, reaching for Henry's phone so I could balance the device on my tummy. The speaker thumped against my baby bump, the volume growing louder for my pup, allowing us both to feel the vibrations as if he were really here with us.
"I'm not sure that's true, little mother," Henry warned me, in that paternal voice that both warmed my soul and annoyed my wolf for being so bossy.
"I've been doing fine without this warlock's help," I argued, and I heard Gabriel smother a snort of laughter.
You tell him, my wolf encouraged. Nosey wolf. Remind him that our mate could kill him with no more than his little finger if he wanted.
"Have you really?" Leon questioned, not seeming the least bit bothered by my insult. "Just because you didn't remember these things, it doesn't mean they weren't hurting you—affecting the way you interact with the world."
"We don't have time for this," I insisted. "I understand you want to help, but I'm more concerned with finding out who these priests are and why they keep turning up in my past."
"So you aren't bothered by the fact that you killed those men?" Leon prodded curiously. "Did you know you were capable of such violence before, even in self-defense? Did you imagine you would have such a skill for it?"
His words sliced through me, and suddenly it felt as though I had ice in my veins. I had killed those men. I'd taken their lives without a second thought and with no remorse. They'd deserved it… hadn't they? They were going to hurt me, rape me, sell me like chattel… but that didn't change the fact that I'd murdered them. It's because of me that they no longer existed on this earth. Did they have families? People who mourned them? Children I'd rendered fatherless—no! Stop this; it won't do any good.
"Talking about it won't change the past," I insisted. "It's done."
"You don't think it's worth exploring all the things you suffered because you didn't have your wolf to protect yourself, or because you were trying to protect the people you love?" Leon pressed, and my frustration grew. "If it were me, I think I'd feel very angry with those priests for taking my magic from me, for standing by and just watching as those men assaulted me."
"But it wasn't you!" I snapped, more fiercely than I intended. I was outraged to realize how furious I was, just as he said. Still, I lashed my anger at him rather than acknowledging the truth of his words. "They assaulted me; the priests took my wolf. Stop presuming to know how I feel."
"So tell me," Leon provoked. "Tell me how you feel, Ella, and I won't presume."
Roger returned then, and I heard the glorious crinkling of a popsicle wrapper. I accepted the cold sweetness eagerly, rejoicing as the flavors exploded on my tongue. "Oh my goddess, this is the best thing I've ever tasted!" I knew it was the ether talking, but even that awareness slipped away a minute later when neon-colored visions of frozen desserts appeared on the ceiling above my head. While I got lost in the hallucination, I heard the others continue to talk.
The King sighed, and to my surprise, he spoke up in my defense. "Leon, I hate to say it because I know you were against having such a large audience in the first place, but if this is going to turn into a true therapy session, then the rest of us probably shouldn't be here. As you said, that's not really why we came to you. If Ella doesn't want to do the work, you can't force her."
"I'm just trying to take care of my patient," Leon defended, sounding resigned. "It's not safe or responsible to uncover these sorts of traumas with someone—only to cut out and leave them to deal with it on their own. It would be like a doctor performing surgery and then never doing any post-op checks or physical therapy. If Ella wants these answers, she needs to face them afterward, not just ignore them."
"I understand," the King agreed. "And you're right, but these aren't regular circumstances."
"She's been through a lot," Henry added. "And she's dealing with a lot now. I have to admit I worry what might happen if you start digging into all this when she's under so much stress as it is."
"The digging is already done," Leon corrected him. "These things aren't just going to go away. Do any of you know how she's actually been coping since the first session? How she's been feeling?"
"You know I can hear you," I piped up, suddenly very conscious of Philippe opening his mouth and worried he'd rat me out about my nightmares. "I'm not a child, and I might be high, but you don't have to talk about me as if I'm not here. It's very patronizing." I continued savoring my popsicle as I forged on. "I'm pretty sure I've already made my feelings on this clear—and I'm the patient, so it's my choice."
"Fine," Leon conceded, sounding annoyed and exasperated. "But mark my words, you're courting disaster." He strode over to me, and I blinked up at the grumpy therapist. "Ella, I hope you'll call me to talk when you come down from the ether. You can call me anytime, when you're ready. I'll be waiting." He departed without another word, and I looked around at the gloomy faces of the remaining men.
"So what do we think?" Roger asked after a moment. "What was that memory all about? Why would servants of the Goddess do such a thing?"
"They were testing her," Henry concluded grimly.
"Testing her for what?" Gabriel replied, sounding confused.
"To see if she was worthy? If she could survive?" Henry suggested, not sounding particularly confident in his explanation. "Perhaps to see if she was ready."
"For what?" The King pressed.
"I have no idea, but I can tell you if they ever turn up again, I'm going to have some words for them," Henry snarled.
"Do you think there's more? More memories like this?" Gabriel questioned.
Henry sounded about as enthusiastic as an executioner signing a death warrant. "I hate to say it, but I'm afraid there are."