Page 141 of Barons of Torment

He waits.

"My mind..." My fingers twist together in my lap. "It's held onto this for so long. What if I can't find it?"

"You don't have to force anything."

He opens the brass box. Inside lies a stack of delicate pale pink petals, so thin they're almost translucent. He lifts one carefully. "Open your mouth."

The petal lands on my tongue. It's unexpectedly sweet, and it melts almost instantly, leaving behind the faint taste of honey and spring blossoms.

"What is it?"

"A flower that grows deep in the mountains–imported from India."

He closes the lid, without taking one for himself. "The Barons have used it for generations."

"For what?"

A small smile touches his mouth. "For times of quiet reflection. When we need to still our minds and reach for the truth beyond our consciousness." His hand cups my cheek and his thumb brushes slowly beneath my eye. "It simply quiets everything else long enough for your mind to stop protecting you."

My pulse quickens.

“Why haven’t we done this before?” When the clock wasn’t ticking? When Kelsey and Laura were still alive?

“I was afraid you were too fragile after everything you’d gone through, and I thought maybe more traditional methods could help. I’d pushed aside their value with Remy and was proven wrong. I wanted to give you the chance.”

“But you think I’m ready now?”

“Arianette,” he says, tilting my chin upwards. “Daughter of Darkness, you have proven yourself more than ready. You’re not just strong, but resilient, and with that resilience comes a power that I’ve never seen before.”

His words bolster me, but I still confess, "I'm scared."

"I know. It won't make you see anything that isn't already there." He holds my eye for a moment longer, then rises and moves behind me. "Come here."

I shift backward until my spine rests against his chest and his legs fold around mine, creating a solid wall behind me. One arm wraps gently around my waist while the other takes my wrist. It’s not a restraint, but a sense of something solid and warm.

"I want you to breathe with me."

His fingers glide slowly from my wrist to my elbow, then back again. The rhythm is steady–patient.