Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I took the long walk back to the Thorn Palace, treasuring the lull of the dusky hours. When I returned, Atrius was waiting for me in my room.
I stopped short. He was standing by the window, peering through a slit in the curtains at the view beyond, where the sun was just disappearing beneath the rocky horizon.
The weight of the dagger at my hip felt like it doubled.
“I’m glad you let yourself in,” I said, flat with sarcasm.
Our usual banter. Nothing was different.
“It’s all my castle now.” He turned around to face me and said, “Your brother is awake.”
My heart skipped a beat. I had to stop myself from turning around and running to Naro’s side immediately.
“I’ve been thinking,” Atrius went on. “Of course, you will be traveling with us to Karisine. And if you wanted him to, I would allow him to come.”
My brows rose a little at that. Of course, Naro couldn’t travel—nor would I want him to. Coming with Atrius’s army was probably the most dangerous place he could be, no matter how much I might selfishly want to keep my brother close.
As if following the same thought process, Atrius went on, “But we both know that would be difficult in his current state. So. I’ve made arrangements.”
A tiny part of myself didn’t even want to hear this, because I knew it was going to be hard. And yet, I was also shamefully desperate for Atrius’s help.
I stepped closer.
“Arrangements?”
“Vampires don’t have experience with Pythora addiction. But we have drugs of our own that are just as powerful. It… has been a problem in the past. Among soldiers.” His hands were clasped behind his back. He crossed the room in slow, wandering steps, like he didn’t even intend to move. “Some Bloodborn healers have learned some treatment methods. They aren’t perfect. They might not work on humans. But?—”
“Thank you.” The words pushed up my throat with the burst of wild hope in my chest. “That’s—just… thank you.”
He looked as uncomfortable being thanked as I was thanking him. We were close now, both in the center of the room. His eyes traced my face.
“I can’t make promises,” he murmured.
He said it like an apology.
“Even if you could,” I replied, “I wouldn’t believe them.”
I was grateful for his honesty. For his imperfect effort. No one who had survived the lives we had could deny the value of that. Most never try at all.
The dagger strapped to my thigh now felt like a vice, slowly tightening.
“My people have learned to fight for the impossible,” he said. “We wouldn’t survive otherwise.”
The words resonated more than I wished they did.
“Thank you,” I said again, and Atrius left me alone without another word.
Atrius was right. Naro was awake. He looked like a living corpse, but he was awake.
Still, he didn’t seem that interested in talking. He gazed out the window as I sat beside his bed, barely responding to my greeting or questions— How are you? Are you feeling better? Do you need anything?
Nothing.
Until at last, my frustration rising, I asked, “Do you want to look at me when I’m trying to save your life?”
At that, he let out a little half-laugh—the sound hurt, because it so resembled the one he’d make as a teenager, responding to some joke or ribbing by another street kid.
“Do I want to look at you? Do I want to?”
At last, he turned his head. “No, Vi. I don’t. Why would I want to look at you and see what you’ve done to yourself because I wasn’t there to protect you?”
My jaw shut tight. The pain came first. Then the anger.
“Because you thought I was dead for sixteen gods-damned years.”
He scoffed again, this one so violent it sent spittle flying across the bedspread, and I jerked to my feet.
“What about you? I’m not here refusing to look at you, even though every time I do, all I see is the decaying corpse of a person that you’ve become.”
“ See ,” he spat. “You don’t see anything.”
“I see far too fucking much ,” I shot back. “I see more than eyes ever gave me. And right now, I fucking hate it. I hate that I have to see everything that Tarkan rotted inside you. Everything that you rotted inside yourself.”
I could be cruel when I was hurt or angry. The Sightmother had reminded me of this many times. Such emotions were not welcome in the Salt Keep, and if they managed to worm their way in, they certainly should never be bowed to.
Fuck it. In this moment, I was too upset to care.
“How dare you judge me,” I snarled. “I’m not the one killing myself over some Weaver-damned Pythoraseed. I’m ashamed of you.”
Naro’s presence was explosively loud, every emotion bold. The hurt was so piercing it almost made me stagger backwards. He lurched halfway upright in his bed, as if to lunge at me, but the shine in his eyes betrayed the hint of tears.
“I served my king,” he ground out. “I—I gave everything for him because he gave me everything. I had nothing. Do you fucking understand? I had nothing. He saved me. Not you. Not your fucking cult. Him . There’s fucking honor in that, you spoiled little girl. Honor .”
I was so angry that my blood buzzed in my ears. So angry that I couldn’t even think. I was grateful for it, because if I had been better at thinking, I might’ve noticed the echo in those words— I gave everything for him because he gave me everything.
How many times had I thought those words about the Arachessen? How many times had I been told them, about Acaeja?
“Right now, I’m the one saving you,” I spat. “Me.”
I straightened my back. Drew in a deep breath. Let it out slowly.
Calm yourself. Center yourself. You are just one small piece of a great tapestry.
The mantra didn’t help.
Naro glared at me. Then his gaze turned back to the window, his knuckles white against the bedsheets.
I swallowed a pang of regret for my harsh words.
My voice was calmer when I said, “I need to leave tonight. You will stay. Healers are coming to treat you and?—”
“Vampire healers?”
My jaw tightened against the urge to snap back, Any kind of healers who will take you and you’ll feel damned lucky for them.
Weaver, a few days with Naro and suddenly even my language was back to my old street rat days.
“They are knowledgeable about recovery from drugs,” I said evenly. “They may be able to help you. So let them.”
Naro didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at me.
Fine.
I went to the door. Though my back was to him, his presence was still so unsettled, a ball of anger and hurt. Despite the anger and hurt of my own, it made my chest ache.
I turned back one last time.
“Naro. ”
His eyes slipped to me.
I love you . I wanted to say it. I should. Even if my petty spite clawed the words back. We used to say them to each other all the time as children, casual affection, when our love for each other was the only constant in a life of uncertainty.
Instead, I said, “Please. Let them help you.”
I love you.
His face softened. His presence, too. And after a few seconds, he nodded.
“I will,” he said.
I love you, too.
I’d take that.