Chapter 39 #3
He shakes his head, then shoves against my sword, hard. I stumble back, and I should take this chance to escape. To survive him. But instead, I hurl myself forward, and my blade meets his again with bone-splintering force.
I press down, trying to get closer, but he blocks his face with his sword, using it like another mask to hide behind, just another sheet of metal to use as a wall between him and the rest of the world.
Between us. But in these last few weeks, those walls have slipped.
I’ve seen beneath the mask, beneath the warrior, beneath the deadly reputation, and that’s why I won’t let him succumb to this.
I won’t let the worst of him win. We break apart for a second, and then my weapon slams against his again.
“Raker,” I say.
But it’s like he’s lost.
Whatever he’s remembering, whatever he’s fighting, I know he’s trapped in his darkest moments, just as I was. The darkest parts of himself.
He was a stranger before this quest, but now … he knows me better than anyone else.
And I know him.
I know him.
I will be a map through the darkness. I will be a hand, pulling him out of it.
Our metals scrape together. He makes to move, but I move first. And instead of striking—I release my sword. It thuds against the sand.
What a stupid thing to do.
But sucking the poison from my blood was stupid. Summoning an ancient immortal to save him was stupid. What’s one more stupid thing.
He lunges to attack me again. And instead of reaching down for my blade—
I reach for him.
My knuckles brush along his cheek, before pushing his hood back completely. It falls away, revealing his full face.
And his blade settles against my throat. I go still. One move and I’m dead. One breath and this entire journey will have been for nothing.
I fight to keep my voice calm. “Raker. You’re not yourself.”
His mouth twists into merciless amusement. “That’s where you’re wrong, Aris. This is me. Not whatever you pretend I am.”
I shake my head, careful against the blade’s edge. “No. No, it’s not.”
“You don’t know me,” he growls. “You don’t know anything at all.”
I swallow. My pulse beats along the metal.
“I know your father was a fisherman. Your mother was a seamstress. You had siblings, once. You grew up near the ocean.” He bares his teeth at me in rage, but I keep going.
“You became a warrior to help your family. Your reputation is that you are a cruel, merciless knight. And you are.”
My voice breaks.
“But that’s not all you are. You use your skills to save too.
You’ve saved me. You’ve trained me. You’ve …
made the nightmares stop. I haven’t had them in days, and I think it’s because I finally feel safe.
Even in a world of dangers, even when you’re the exact person I was taught to fear, when I’m with you, I’m not afraid. Not anymore.”
That makes him inhale sharply. His grip on his sword loosens—then tightens. It presses so hard against my throat, it becomes hard to talk. But I don’t stop.
“You told me you are nothing, nothing beyond your rage and vengeance, but you are not nothing. You matter, beyond your blade. Beyond your skills. You matter to me. Because I see you,” I say, breathless, as a tear slips down my face and lands on his metal.
“I see beneath the mask. I see beneath the armor. I see past the fury, past the vengeance.” One of my hands reaches up to his, the one that’s gripping the sword against my throat.
His skin is burning hot. His fingers are trembling.
“I see you, Raker. I see past the blood on these hands. I see past your mistakes, and I hate that you can’t look at your reflection, because …
because I never want to stop looking at you, Raker.
” Careful not to move forward even an inch, my other hand reaches up to slide across his cheek.
His body flinches, shaking with a chill.
Still, his sword does not drop from my throat.
One sudden movement and I’m done. I’ll bleed out all over this sand.
“I see the good. I see the bad, and everything in between. I see you. I see you, and one day you will see a shred of what I see.” I say it like an order. Like a promise.
“You see what you want to, Aris,” he says, his voice just as cutting as his blade. He presses it deeper, and I feel a sharp flash of pain.
A drop of blood drips down his metal.
Shit. I should stop. I should give up.
But no. I’m not wrong. Even as I’m bleeding, even as he’s moments from slitting my throat, I think back to our journey. I think back to his actions—not his words.
My voice is a choked whisper. “I have seen you be both merciless and kind. I have seen you kill and rescue. I have seen both the best and worst of you. I’ve seen it all. I have seen the evil in you, Raker, which is how I know the good exists. It’s how I know … how I know you won’t do this.”
“You don’t know me,” he growls, his hand trembling. His blade scraping against the thin, fragile skin. More blood spilling onto his metal.
“I know enough,” I breathe. Sword still against my throat, I do something foolish. Slowly, so he can feel my intention, I lean closer. I pause, waiting to feel the hot gushing of blood. I wait to feel the shock of death. But he’s moved with me.
He hasn’t cut me down—not yet.
Heart hammering, I press closer still, my face right in front of his. His eyes are still shut. I lean in until the metal stops me.
“I see you,” I whisper an inch from his lips.
I feel him … feel his arm trembling. His fingers flexing beneath mine, as we both hold on to his sword.
“I see the monster, and I’m still looking.
I see the darkness, and I’m not flinching.
” My shaking voice sharpens. “Your blade is against my throat and I’m. Not. Leaving.”
He is the greatest warrior on Stormside. He is an infamous killer. But right now, with his sword against my pulse, he is hesitating. He is shaking.
Gently, so gently, I pull back an inch, the blade following, only to see his face still twisted, as if he’s locked in an invisible battle.
“Open your eyes, Raker,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. The pain clear on his face—I want to take it away. I want to heal it, the same way he has healed me.
“Open your eyes. Please.” My voice breaks on the word.
The sand surges, circling, enclosing, caving in, as if to drown out my words. And that only means it’s working.
“Open your eyes,” I scream, because this sand …
this sand will not silence me. It will not silence those moments where we have fought, and survived, and lived.
Against all odds, we have endured, and even though I have hated him, and cursed him, every step of this has been side by side, and if he wouldn’t leave me behind before … neither will I.
The sand rages. It’s roaring. So. Am. I.
“I SEE YOU,” I bellow. “I see you, Harlan Raker. I see you, and I like what I see. I want to see more. I want … please. I want …”
Tears spill, sliding down my neck, mixing with the blood.
Fuck it. If these are my last moments, then I won’t let a single word go unsaid.
“I want you, Raker. I want to find you again when all of this is over. I want to see what life might look like beyond the misery. Beyond the vengeance. You make me want to see what’s left for me. You make me want to build a life in a world of ashes. So please. Please. Open your eyes. Open—”
He does.
And his sword drops between us.
“I see you too,” he says, eyes locked on mine, steel blazing through the desert.
I see you.
I know he does. Because at some point during this journey the moat I kept around myself lowered a bridge to him. He knows about my nightmares. He knows about my markings. He knows about my sister. He knows my fears and weaknesses and the things that make me smile.
Everyone else who knew me at all is dead. I almost just joined them, at his hand.
My knees buckle in relief, and he catches me around the waist. No one gets close to him.
Everyone is too afraid. I should be too.
He just almost killed me. But I throw my arms around him anyway.
Together, we sink to the sand, knee to knee.
I feel his arms curve around me tentatively as if he has no idea how this works, as if he hasn’t embraced anyone in a long while.
“I thought—I thought you were going to kill me,” I say, breathless, my cheek against his neck. Our hearts are both beating wildly, right against each other. I feel his hand against the back of my head, as he holds me to him.
He says nothing. He only holds me tighter.