Chapter 12
It is late in the night, the half-eaten moon hanging low under the raining clouds, when Galipei opens his eyes.
A slow flutter, at first. He doesn’t realize he has finally breached consciousness until it happens.
For an endless stretch of time, he was straining to cut to the surface of his mental prison, butting up against the underside of ice.
His arms and legs are stone weights. He tries to move, and only succeeds in emitting a soundless exhale.
“You scared me.”
Slowly, his world takes on clearer shape. Galipei blinks. The ceilings are low. The light is coming from an electric bulb over the door.
In a snap, Galipei recalls his surroundings. He is not in the palace—they took momentary shelter at the security base in Eigi. There was a delegation into the provinces. The recovery of the divine crown. August, in trouble.
Ah. And Galipei dived before him.
“August,” he whispers. Like a summoning, his charge takes shape in the room.
Blots of color crystallize to show August at the foot of the cot, his hands behind his back, his face slanted away.
Immediately, it feels wrong to be the one lying down while August stands.
They’re occupying some sort of storage space, repurposed into Galipei’s private recovery corner.
It is empty save for his cot and a mop on the floor.
“How are you?” August asks.
His voice is wan. Not from lethargy, but intentional effort. He is restraining himself. Eavesdroppers at the door, Galipei presumes. Something has happened at the camp.
“I’m fine,” Galipei replies.
August whirls around.
“You are not fine,” he snaps, and Galipei flinches.
Galipei can’t quite recall the last time August was angry at him.
What is there to be angry about? Galipei’s job is to protect him from bodily harm.
It’s to be a forceful shadow, divorced from his own wants and entirely attuned to his prince’s.
Galipei has disagreed with August in the past, but always for his own good, and so it was never anger that rose to meet him—it was practical calculation, it was logical reconsideration.
Anger, suddenly, makes August appear too… human.
“What do you mean?” Galipei asks. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“You almost weren’t!” August takes a beat. Collects himself. “You almost weren’t.”
Galipei tries to sit upright. His shoulders ache. He sees no external wounds, but there is a persistent throbbing moving through his limbs, springing from his torso exactly where he was struck.
“I am getting the sense that you didn’t want me saving your life.”
“Yes, you shouldn’t have done that,” August says. “You are my security detail. That doesn’t include throwing yourself in my harm’s way.”
This is unfamiliar terrain. August Shenzhi’s concern burns cold.
It is an untrained thing that has been wandering the harsh elements, about as delicate as singeing metal.
Galipei could reach out to seek it, to attempt to hold it, but when his hands return shredded and mutilated, he’d have no one to blame but himself.
“I apologize for my directness,” Galipei says, “but the very point of being your personal guard is that I guard your life.”
“No.”
“No?” Galipei echoes, flabbergasted.
August finally comes forward. He rounds the foot of the cot, approaching Galipei’s side. When he halts, he is within reaching distance. Galipei would only have to extend his arm. Place his palm out.
“I appreciate all you’ve done,” August says. “But going forward, you’re dismissed from duty. I don’t need you anymore.”
Galipei isn’t hearing this correctly. He’s newly woken. He’s confused. August is not saying what he thinks he is saying. Galipei makes an effort to adjust himself higher onto his pillow, but his elbow fails to find enough traction.
August looks away. It would be out of line for him to help Galipei, so he does not.
“Show me your eyes,” Galipei demands.
August scoffs. “I am not invaded, Galipei. You have had a rather poor track record at noticing, but this is purely my decision.”
“What is this supposed to be, then? A punishment?” Galipei was assigned to protect him.
From the moment he was given any responsibility in the palace, Galipei Weisanna trained day and night to protect him.
This is what he does. This is who he is.
“I figured it out, August. I caught Calla. I forced Anton Makusa to jump—”
“It’s not a punishment. I am restructuring. We are at war. My needs here are vastly different from my needs in a palace. We have suffered too many gratuitous losses already. Seiqi is dead.”
What? Seiqi hadn’t traveled with the delegation.
Seiqi shouldn’t be at the base. Galipei glances over to the window, his face furrowed in recollection, and he hears her like some wisp of a long-forgotten dream: Let me help you.
She must have come into the infirmary. She must have been caring for him.
“I’m sorry.”
Galipei’s attention snaps back at once. What is this?
Such condolences are unusual for August too.
Sympathy does not suit him; it colors his cheeks and pulls at his spine.
When August turns to go, both his hands have tightened into fists.
Galipei notices it, even if August himself doesn’t.
August’s sleeves are rough and harried where they’ve been rolled up to his elbows. The cords of his forearms are tight.
When August is nervous, he worries with the cuffs of his sleeves, creasing the neat lines.
The last time Galipei saw his prince like this, he was putting loyal Weisannas on the task to hunt for Calla Tuoleimi.
Keep it quiet, he warned them. Don’t let the word spread.
Those palace guards eagerly praised August for rising above his duties and pursuing justice against the royal fugitive.
Only Galipei knew about August’s plan to get rid of Kasa.
Even if August had not told him, he would have understood it all the same.
“August,” Galipei says. “I know you don’t mean it.”
Galipei Weisanna is the only person in this kingdom who understands August. Nobody else sees what he sees. Nobody else has had the time to parse the language of his shrugs and sighs.
August shakes his head. He pauses by the door.
“Sometimes, people overstay their posts.” His voice is already faint, as though he has long put swaths of distance between them. “I need a new guard detail when we’re going to war, Galipei. You’re dismissed. End of story.”
August walks out.