Chapter 18 #4
As they stood, their dark stare cut to Elethenn, who was hunched over on the floor, his chin long since tipped down as he stared emptily into the pool of blood he was sitting in.
"Would you like us to deal with him?" they asked.
"What a wretched, ill-formed thing. He would not have survived to leave the nest had he hatched with a clutch.
But he may yet offer utility, even if he is not fit for a creche.
He seems to misunderstand his place." As they spoke, their black stare was unflinching, steady, almost hungry.
A sharp wheeze rattled in my chest, like I was trying to gasp but my throat – vise-tight – made it feel like I was breathing through a straw.
"He is useful to us," Araxis said, firm. "His place is with us. He will remain with our creche."
Nizanin trilled, looking at both of us indulgently.
"You are like Thalidi. Soft. It is a good quality to offer to those we must protect.
It is dangerous when that softness is exposed to the world beyond.
Anyone might seize upon it and tear tender flesh to tatters.
Save your softness for your virra, sinnenthi – but it is a lesson you will learn in your own time, as did your Thalidi.
Our condolences for your loss, Araxis of Creche Thiel, though it was many years ago.
" Then Nizanin gracefully stepped over Tam's body as though avoiding a puddle, and reached out to accept Ankalas's proffered hand.
Sentelli moved around the desk the other way, shoulder bumping into Araxis as he slid by with a sharp look.
"We will be in touch," Ankalas said, opening the door as Nizanin glided out, their guards following a second after, and then the door shut and we were alone.
"Holy fuck," I gasped, and then I launched myself out of the chair, stumbling over Tam's body and crouching down by Elethenn.
I untied the twist of fabric from around the back of his head, hauling hard on the strips at his wrists too.
His skin was bruised gray-green around his wrists, his chin still tipped down even as he reached one shaking hand up and rubbed at his mouth distantly. "Fuck, are you okay?"
Elethenn said nothing, his tongue wetting his bruised lower lip.
Water, I thought distantly, and I shoved the bottle at him. "Do you want –"
"Sashen." Araxis spoke behind me and I twisted to look up at him. His face was blank, and he held out a hand. "Elethenn will be fine. He just needs a moment."
"But –"
"It's cultural," Araxis said, and there was something like pity in his voice.
I knew that tone; I hated that tone, and in a rush, I realized that, for a sinnenthi like Elethenn, this – this, being assaulted and trapped and used as bait and then having a virra fret over you while you were still sitting in a pool of blood – might be the worst humiliation you could suffer.
So I shoved myself up, out of the pool of Tam's gleaming blood, and stepped back to Araxis, who drew me in the moment I was close enough for his hands to reach.
He pulled me hard to him, pressing his face against my neck as he inhaled deeply, almost desperately.
Heat prickled at the corner of my eyes, and I felt like I was suddenly someone very, very small standing in the shadow of a tidal wave.
Something inexorable and dangerous that was crashing toward us that we couldn't escape.
"What in the actual fuck," I hissed, wide-eyed. "They just – They killed Tam!" I couldn't hold the thought; I couldn't contain it. It kept threatening to spill out past the white-knuckled hold I had on myself that was slipping, moment by moment.
Behind me, I could hear Elethenn moving.
A soft sound like he was clearing his throat.
"We should leave," he said, voice scraped raw, hot and scratchy.
"We're vulnerable here. The Unbound may know exactly who ordered the attack on Sashen; they may have shared our location.
They have no honour, Araxis. The sooner we leave, the better. "
"Wise advice," Araxis said quietly as he released me.
I turned to look at Elethenn who, while upright, was holding one hand hard to his side, his body curved forward, like he couldn't stand straight.
His face was like a mask, matte white and blank.
He took a few unsteady steps forward, pain tightening his jaw, and then went to a dirty shelf in one corner where he retrieved my wristband.
Ankalas must have set it down at some point; I hadn't even fucking noticed.
"Dreyko has my swords," I said distantly as Araxis slid the golden disc into an inner pocket of his jacket, still resting across my shoulders. I could feel the weight of it against my chest, warm.
"Then we shall retrieve them." Araxis threaded his fingers through the waves of my hair, gentle.
His black eyes were fathomless as he studied me, and all the things I wanted to say – that he shouldn't listen to the shit Nizanin was saying; that I was sorry I'd been lured down here and brought him into it; that I was so profoundly thankful to have had him by my side; that, no matter what, I always felt safe when he was near; that I really would have liked for him to meet Tam, who'd died because of me – fell away as I shivered under his touch.
"You did well, beloved," he murmured, thumb stroking my cheek as I fought valiantly against the heat searing my eyes.
I couldn't look at him. I jerked my chin down, and found myself staring at the pool of blood on the floor, and that was worse. God, that was worse.
Next to me, Araxis tapped at his wristband, pulling up a map of Radiant Ward. "I brought a station shuttle to the ward docks. Elethenn, this is your neighbourhood, yes? Perhaps you could identify the best route from here, one where we are unlikely to run into trouble."
"I… yes." He ducked his head and edged over Tam's body to the door, casting one last, darting look at the corpse on the floor, before he opened the door carefully to scan the hallway beyond.
I turned to take in the grisly scene one more time, my heart throbbing hard in my throat, before following Elethenn.
Araxis took up the rear, a shadow at my shoulder as we slid through the back hallways.
My swords and jacket were waiting in a puddle on the floor, as was Elethenn's pistol and the signed photo I'd gotten for Tam and had left at the bar.
When I reached for them all, a sliver of paper – torn from the corner of a fight night poster – fell out, scrawled with jagged letters: sorry, kid.
My vision whited out for a moment as I stared at it, before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it furiously into a dusty, cluttered corner where I also shoved the notion that I had ever been safe here.
Like that – soaked in blood, in possession of a golden disc while ominous promises chased after us – we made our way to the docks of Radiant Ward and then, finally, home.