Read Online Valeria by Kaitlin R. Branch - Free Book Online Page B

darling, is it really you?”
    He squinted, for the first time truly regretting the loss of his sight. All he could see was the impression of gold. “Who are you?” he asked.
    “Mache,” she whispered. “Oh, love. Come. Come with me.”
    The woman took him into her home, where two young children sat on his knees and babbled at him in words only they could understand. He smiled broadly, uncomprehending of why he was here, but contented in the shade of the golden woman’s home.
    She fed him. She clothed him. She bathed him. When the children fell asleep, she led him to her bed and kissed him deeply. Confused, he returned the kiss. The image of a leather corset came to mind, the laces slowly loosening in soft light caught in softer hair. He grasped at the memory, tried to hold it only for it to slip through his fingers. She was patient and guided his hands over hers as she did the lacing.
    Deep in the night she whispered, “I can heal you.”
    “Can you?” he asked, staring at the ceiling. “It would be nice to see again.”
    “Mache…”
    “Is that my name?”
    “Yes.” She leaned over and kissed him again. Her hands warmed his as she drew his ring off of his finger.
    “What are you doing?” he asked, alarmed. The ring was his only clue to his past. Even if he’d accepted that he would never go back to the way things were, he still wanted to keep it. It was important. He knew that.
    “Hush,” she said, and stroked his hair. “Trust me.”
    He thought for a moment. With everything that she had done for him, perhaps she deserved his trust. “All right,” he said and let her take the ring. What was he doing with it, anyway?
    Many weeks passed. The children were twins, a boy and a girl. He never tired of them, even when the woman spent many hours busy at some work. When he asked, she only said she was helping him. At night she took him to her bed and lay with him. Slowly it grew less strange.
    After a month, she took his hand and instead of leading him to bed, laid him on the kitchen table. She kissed his cheek. “I made your ring,” she whispered, “with the very elements needed to bring back your sight. It was not my intention ever to use it in this way, though, my love.”
    “I don’t even know your name,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her face.
    “You will, Mache.”
    “All right.”
    He lay back and with a potion she sent him into a sleep so deep he noted nothing for many hours. His dreams were filled with windows looking over a countryside he no longer remembered, a dirigible decorated with bronze and crystal, a box from which he looked down upon a woman he loved with golden hair pinned up with a slim rod, who bent over something. Periodically she looked up and smiled at him.
    Will you let down your hair? he asked.
    Not yet, she replied.
    Now? he asked later.
    No, she said.
    He waited again. Please let down your hair, he urged.
    When you awaken, she said. Perhaps I will.
    He took a deep breath and returned to consciousness. His eyes ached. He tried to blink but there was nothing. His breath caught in a panic and he tried to reach his hands to his face. Long, slim fingers caught his wrists. “Mache,” she cried. “Wait. Wait, calm down, it’s okay!”
    “I cannot see,” he whispered, “I still cannot see.”
    She leaned over, murmuring into his ear, stroking his hair until his breathing returned to normal. She stood up again. “I haven’t turned them on yet,” she said. “We can fix your hands later. Are you ready?”
    He nodded. “Yes. I want to see you.”
    “Then,” she shifted a few wires, and suddenly his eyes were assaulted with light. It did not hurt in the same way it would have pained his natural eyes. More than anything it was surprising, and the woman who stood before him was the greatest surprise.
    It was the woman from the dream, though she did not look as young as he remembered her. There was no mistaking the gleaming golden eye, the long slim fingers that worked