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Nadia doesn’t need her excellent intuition or a glowing mark on her forehead to notice how awfully anxious these meetings make you. Your knee bounces rapidly and your thumb drums on the table, earning sideways glances from the courtiers that only serve to worsen your frenzied mood. Her hand comes to rest on your knee and she gives you a quick look, a shift of her eyes that asks if you’re alright.
It’s the middle of a meeting, you tell yourself. It’d feel rude to stall the meeting all because you’re feeling a tad antsy. So when she passes her gaze to you again, you nod a little lie and will your knee and thumb to still. Her grip tightens slightly around your knee, a little stimulation to inform you she knows you’re bluffing.
“What do you think, Magician?” the praetor asks. The question yanks you back into the conversation you’d long abandoned, and you have to ask the courtier to repeat himself. “You are a master of the magical arts. How would you handle this matter?”
Your stomach sinks when he doesn’t give any extra context to the question. You begin scouring your brain for some sort of vague answer that could make it seem like you were paying attention, but every potential thought escapes your mind’s grasp just as it seems to surface. Seconds pass in silence and the courtiers all have their eyes on you, waiting. Your hands begin to shake and you have to clench them into fists just to muffle the tremors of your nerves. But even as you partially tame your jittering hands, your breath hitches and your throat starts to close. You look frantically around for some sort of savior, and your eyes land on Nadia, who gets the message and clears her throat.
“Oh dear, it seems we’ve gone over,” Nadia says, half-glancing over at a clock on the wall. “I’ll be tardy for my later affairs if we don’t finish this up now.” She stands from her seat, and the courtiers all follow, chattering on about the topic as they leave, though the praetor keeps his eyes on you even as he exits the room.
When the door shuts and you and Nadia are left alone, you release a gasp you hadn’t realized you were holding and your forehead meets the table in exasperated relief at your new solitude. In a moment, Nadia is on her knees at your side.
“My darling, it’s alright.” She holds out both her hands to you. “Hold on to me instead.” You hadn’t noticed the way your fingernails began to dig into your arms at your sides, but then again, you never do. You unlatch yourself from the flesh of your arms, staring hard at the deep crescent shapes left by your nails in your soft skin. You settle your hands into Nadia’s and she starts to massage slow, grounding circles into the center of your palms.
“I do wish you’d tell the truth when I try to check in on you.” Nadia’s eyes don’t leave your hands even as she speaks. She’s being careful to avoid intense eye contact, not wanting to make you feel crowded. You and her have been through this many times and she often knows just how to handle it. Your heart strains knowing just how much she loves you.
“I’ll do better,” you croak out, your withered breath making your words sound small. “I’m sorry. It’s just…hard to be honest sometimes.” Your voice tapers off toward the end.
She presses a kiss to each hand. “I understand. These feelings can be hard to talk about, especially in the company of others.” She glances at the now empty chairs of the meeting room, then back to your hands. “If only I could magic away these negative feelings or somehow make things less frightening, I would.”
“I know,” you say, and you manage a smile because you know it’s true. There’s nothing in this world Nadia wouldn’t do for you. And when she sees your smile, she smiles back.
“Are you feeling better?” she asks, the circling motions of her thumbs slowing to a stop. You shrug and make a “so-so” gesture with your hand. “Are you well enough that I may touch your face?”
“I think so.”
Her hands come up to either side of your face and hold you there, and she brings your foreheads together in a slow motion, the gentle contact almost undetectable. “I love you, dearest. You’re alright.” Her eyes are on your lips, and though you're eager for the comfort of a kiss, you worry the intimacy of the gesture might overwhelm you, so you opt to instead kiss the tip of her nose and her cheek.
“Thank you, Nadia.” Your own hands come to hold hers, squeezing tightly around the fingers which cup your face. “I love you, too.”