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She twitches, often, in her sleep, before whatever dreams chase her out of her slumber and she jerks awake. Kieran can feel Poppy’s restlessness in his bones every night, the anguish that wraps around her like a vice as familiar to him as his own is. Sometimes, Kieran’s stuck on what to do; nudge her awake to pull her away from the dreams that plague her and deal with the fact that she probably won’t go back to sleep, or let her be and subject her to a fitful night? Neither option sounds appealing to Kieran, and this helplessness gnaws at his nerves. He can’t help Poppy. He can’t help Cas. What fucking good is he?
His own sleep is disturbed, more often than not. A voice taunts him in his head—his own, just distorted by self-hatred and inconceivable anger and pain—wondering how he could let this happen again. In his heart, Kieran knows nothing and no one could have stopped Casteel from offering himself up to the Blood Queen—especially if it meant that Poppy would be safe. The fact of the matter is, Kieran doesn’t, not for a second, blame Cas for making that exchange. But, Gods, he is angry . He is fucking livid.
He knows, too well, what Cas suffered through the first time Ileana had captured him. The mere thought of his best friend, his brother , going through the torture and pain all over again presses Kieran with the urge to tear Ileana’s heart out with his bare hands or die trying. But he has to wait. He has to be patient, even if it grates on his very being. Even if it feels wrong , knowing the truth of Cas’s condition. But right now, these days, he’s only got one job: stay by Poppy’s side, protect her and fight with her as they make their way to Carsadonia to bring their King back.
It’s difficult, though, when her subconscious sometimes becomes her enemy at night, and he can’t do anything about it. Poppy’s body jerks a little and Kieran lifts his head, her back to his wolven form, and he peers over to see the furrow between her eyebrows as she sleeps. He knows, when she wakes, there will be circles under her silver-encased green eyes from the lack of sleep. He knows everyone worries about her, even though she doesn’t let them. The most she’ll allow him or anyone else to get out is asking her if she’s slept, if she needs something to eat, and then everything else she’ll shut down. In Poppy’s head, she’s not to be fussed over. Not when Cas is where he is.
It frustrates Kieran that she doesn’t seem to understand that she is their Queen, but also their friend, and they can be worried over Cas and still worry over her, too.
He leans back when Poppy suddenly jerks awake with a small gasp, her chest rising and falling at a quickened pace as she tries to catch her breath. Kieran watches as she slowly sits up, fiery red hair falling over her shoulders, down her back. She doesn’t look at him, and instead stares ahead, catching her breath, and Kieran’s jaw tightens at the hollow look in her eyes. He doesn’t have to stare at her head on to recognize the look. It’s one she’s been wearing too often.
He watches her and, despite knowing his question is redundant and knowing how she’s going to answer, he asks anyways, Are you alright?
Poppy glances at him as his question no doubt echoes in her head, the Primal notam doing its job. She exhales slowly and nods. “I’m fine,” she says, a lie uttered so often that Kieran fears she’ll start to believe it’s true. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
You didn’t , he tells her. And it’s the truth—she hadn’t woken him up. Kieran had already been awake because it’s too loud in his own head, and while he got a few hours of sleep before he was woken by his own restless subconscious, it would have to be enough. He knows it’s pointless to ask, but he does so anyway. Will you go back to sleep?
He’s not surprised when she lets out another breath and pushes her hair out of her face, resting her hands where her neck meets either of her shoulders. Poppy shakes her head and murmurs, “Probably not.” Normally, she’ll communicate through the notam , but since it’s just the two of them, her quiet voice settles in the room, heavy with a kind of grief Kieran understands. Her gaze drops to her hands, and Kieran knows she’s staring at her ring—and the imprint on her palm. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.” A humorless chuckle escapes her. “Sleep is not my friend.”
Him . Ever since he’d been captured, Poppy has yet to utter Cas’s name, as though her sounding his name would trigger an onslaught of emotions she’s been doing her damndest to keep at bay. Kieran doesn’t blame her. As far as they know, Cas is still alive, thanks to the marriage imprint on Poppy’s hand. But they also know the longer he’s alive, the worse he’d be faring, if his imprisonment this time around is anything like it had been the first time. Kieran worries how hungry his friend might be, how close to the edge he’s creeping towards until he goes over and there’s no bringing him back.
He clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to bare his sharp teeth. Kieran has always been someone who looks at a situation from all angles, trying to determine every outcome so they aren’t surprised by unexpected events. But he’s already failed at that, hasn’t he? With Cas’s capture—both times. Cas is his brother, and he’s failed him surrounding his capture, but he won’t fail him when it comes to protecting and being there for Poppy. Not when she’s his friend too, someone he loves outside of his relationship with Casteel. She won’t fall apart—Kieran knows this to be true, knows how resilient and strong she is. But he will be there for her, every second, in any way he can.
It isn’t your enemy, either , Kieran tells her, and judging by the flat look she shoots him, she doesn’t entirely appreciate his so-called sage advice. He tilts his head, icy blue eyes still on her. We already have plenty of those. No point in making another one.
“It’s too early for your wise comments,” Poppy rebuts, gaze flickering towards the window that reveals the dark night sky beyond the fluttering drapes. “Or late. Whatever.”
Her words die off as she continues staring out into the night, her silver-green eyes gaining a distant look as she gets lost in her head. Kieran watches her for a moment, takes note of the anguish that crosses her face, and he feels his chest tighten. He leans forward, nudging her shoulder with his nose, gentle yet forceful enough to get her to look at him once more. The pain that he sees in her eyes—Kieran hates it. Hates that she’s hurting beyond anyone’s imagination.
We’ll get him back, Poppy. We’ll bring Cas home , he tells her, his voice firm and resolute in his own head.
Her eyes glass, showing emotion that she doesn’t let anyone else see save for him. As their Queen, their meyaah Liessa , she’s determined to remain strong and unwavering in the face of the unknown, in the face of the darkness that looms ahead. But right here, when it’s just the two of them, she lets the weariness of her heart slip through the cracks, lets the tears gather to be let out the way they need to be.
“I know,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. She meets his gaze, chewing her lower lip. “But how he’ll be when we bring him back. . . That’s what scares me.”
Potentially out of it. Hungry. Out of control. It’s a reality they need to accept before they see him again. Kieran exhales slowly. Whatever happens—whatever his state is, we’ll handle it. Together, we’ll be there for him.
Poppy nods, gaze finding her palm again, the gold swirl that lets them know that her husband—his best friend, their King—lives. She doesn’t look at him, but he’s not surprised when her voice, through the notam , drifts into his head. Thank you, for being here with me every night.
The sincerity and gratitude in her voice rolls through Kieran, tightening his muscles as he gazes at her. As much of a comfort his presence is for her during the nights, it’s just the same the other way around. Poppy is his Queen and the wife of his best friend—his brother—but she’s also one of Kieran’s closest friends. One of his best friends, too. No one quite understands what either of them are going through with Cas’s absence as the other, and while Kieran would lay his life for Poppy—despite her protests of him doing so—being near her makes it easier to breathe, too. It gives him a sense of purpose. But, at the end of the day, he will be by Poppy’s side, come hell or high water.
You don’t have to thank me. It’s my honor . He sees the small smile that tugs at the corner of her lips, and because he doesn’t want her to think he’s here just because of duty, he adds on, You’re one of my closest friends, Poppy. There is nowhere else I’d rather be during this time.
Her expression softens and she reaches a hand out, resting it on one of his front paws. Her hand is significantly smaller than his larger wolven one, but her touch is warm, as though her power surges through him down a familiar route. There is comfort in her touch, and he leans his head down to appreciatively nudge his nose against her hand. He knows, once upon a time, even the simplest of touches were once forbidden to her, and so being able to do this—she treasures it. And not for the first time, Kieran is grateful to have Poppy Da’Neer in his life.
She lifts her gaze, offering him a smile as she says, “I think I’ll try to sleep.”
He nods, relieved. Good .
Poppy shifts, laying back down on the bed, this time facing his wolven form. The blanket covers her, her eyes drifting shut, and Kieran watches her, waiting for the moment her breathing evens out. Fortunately, she’s asleep soon after, and Kieran lets out a quiet breath. Fiery hair fan against the pillows, her freckles and scars faint in the darkness of the room. Eventually, Kieran lowers his own head, trying to distance himself from his spinning thoughts.
They’ll bring him home. They won’t stop until they do. For his sake, and Poppy’s, and all of the kingdoms’, they will. Because if they don’t, Kieran fears what will become of Poppy. And of himself.
He finally allows for sleep to take over, eyes drifting shut, cutting himself off from the view of a sleeping Poppy. And his last thought, as he drifts away into slumber, is that he hopes if Poppy ends up dreaming again, it’s of Casteel, and it’s one that only brings her joy.