Chapter 24 Nes
Nes
Time was her enemy. The silence surrounding her its weapon.
Nes paced the tunnel entrance, her eyes never leaving the expanding dark. Over and over, she ran her hands up and down the length of rope.
She should pull him up. But he hadn’t given her the signal. Hadn’t given any signal. He could be dead.
No, he wouldn’t die on her. She would make sure of it.
When Toran made it back with Genna, Nes would suggest Genna get far away from Gadore. Best to pack up and leave tonight. It wouldn’t do to have Genna live through this only to be thrown back down the well tomorrow. If anything, her survival would only increase the belief she was the Witch.
Nes wound the end of the rope around her pinkie as tight as it would go. Unraveled it. Wound it again. She leaned over the lip of stone, but all she could see was black. She hadn’t felt a tug. But how long had it been since she’d lowered him down? Five minutes? Ten?
Even with her ear angled toward the dark, she couldn’t pick up any sound other than the slosh of water on stone. Her mind swirled with images of Toran sinking beneath the water. Her nightmare of drowning, of choking on the sea and shriveling in the dark, became visions of Toran.
She gnawed on her bottom lip. A tremble ran through the rope, and her breath caught. She stared at the rope. It didn’t move.
Without the steady creep of the sun across the sky to help her gauge the time, she felt blind, like she was wandering the dark in more ways than one.
Time had mocked her long enough. If Toran didn’t have Genna by now, she was dead.
And if she waited any longer, she might pull up two dead bodies. She had to get them out.
Nes wrapped the rope around her middle several times and gripped the end with both hands. Slowly, she began walking back.
The rope had grown damp under the chill, moist air. She held on tight. One step, then another. With every step her heart thudded harder. There was so little resistance on the rope.
She tried not to imagine how he might not be on the other end anymore. How she might be pulling for nothing.
It took another fifteen steps before she felt any weight. But even then, she didn’t breathe easy. She wouldn’t until Toran was safely out of the water. She kept walking, fighting the increasing weight. She’d promised him she was strong enough to get them out of the well.
It was the first time she’d made someone other than her father a promise since…she couldn’t remember. She intended to keep it, no matter the cost.
Promises were more intimate than deals. More personal. She didn’t want to be the type of person who broke a promise.
She let the rope fall from her fingers, let her waist and her core bear the weight, her thighs working harder than they had in weeks. Her legs shook with the effort. If she didn’t get them out soon, she wouldn’t have the strength to start over again.
A scrape of a boot on stone had her pulling up short. She wasn’t alone. Someone must have followed them down here. She couldn’t save Toran and Genna and fight this new person, too. Not without an advantage.
Something within her squirmed, a wriggling sensation taking over her gut. Her breaths turned heavy.
Focus lost, her feet began to slide against stone, back toward the half wall. Then slender hands slid around her twisting abdomen and linked in front of her belly button. A familiar scent of citrus wafted around her.
“I’ve got you,” Suri said.
From there it became a slow dance. Suri’s foot, her foot, Suri’s foot. Together they pulled, easing the rope up and over the edge.
“Nes.” Suri’s voice held an inevitability Nes didn’t want to consider. “The rope.”
Fraying splinters had begun to jut out at all angles, the rope tearing itself apart under the pressure.
“Keep going,” she ordered. They continued pulling.
Please, she begged. Please keep the rope together.
Her stomach cramped, and that wriggling sensation escaped up to her chest, pulsing beside her frantic heart. She tried to push it back down, but it only grew stronger as she grew more desperate. It beat against her fear. Let me help.
She bit down on her tongue. No.
The farther she and Suri stepped, the more the rope frayed. She swallowed hard. The pressure leaked from her chest, pounding inside her skull. She didn’t have a choice.
Only a bit, she vowed.
And then her whole body was vibrating, a sudden glee taking over. Shivers raked her every limb, and new strength found her muscles. She thought of her flask, then cast the thought aside. She kept her focus on the rope, on making it strong.
The rope held.
Held until Toran’s head poked over the stones, Genna in his shaking arms. And then Nes was holding him, pulling him to her.
Toran was colder than the ocean on a snowy night, his skin corrosive compared to the warmth of her own, but she held on tight.
She vowed not to let go. Beside her, Suri grabbed Genna, and they all tumbled to the floor.
“Genna!” Nes cried out.
Suri’s hands were on the guard’s face, smoothing away her wet hair and slapping her cheeks. But Genna didn’t move. Her eyes were shut and her lips looked blue under the light of their lone lantern. Suri put her fingers to Genna’s neck.
“She’s not breathing,” Suri said.
Nes stared at Toran. Everything in her screamed to hold on to him. Fear kept her fists clenched in his wet clothes, his head cradled in her lap. But Toran was breathing.
Nes squeezed him tight before she released him and scrambled over to where Genna and Suri lay.
She could still feel that vibration under her skin, though it was softer now, almost like a purr.
She placed her hands, one on top of the other, on Genna’s chest—the faint pulse of the girl’s heart answered—and thrust down.
Something surged past her fingertips, and water spewed from Genna’s mouth. The girl coughed, gasping for breath.
She clambered back as Suri crawled forward, helping Genna sit up. Suri removed her cloak and slid it around Genna’s shoulders.
“Is she alive?”
Nes jumped and turned to find Toran staring, not at Genna but at her. “You’re okay.”
Toran shook, his teeth clattering, but he was awake. “Is Genna?”
She crouched down in front of him. Running her hands up and down his arms, she said, “I think so. Suri will take her to the Siren’s Hair. Get her warmed up.”
Toran nodded, but it looked more like a spastic jerk of his head. “S-sounds nice.”
“Can you stand?”
Hands still shaking, Toran managed to get his feet under him. From there, she helped him up. “Come on, we’ll get you some warm clothes.”
Toran leaned into her for support as they walked. Even through her heavy cloak she could feel the prick of his icy skin. As Suri had for Genna, Nes pulled her cloak off and wrapped it around his shoulders. She’d seen too many people die from the cold.
Winter in the Ditch could eat away at your very soul. Those without roofs over their heads shriveled in on themselves until they became corpses on doorsteps. Those lucky enough to dwell inside were warm, but their hearts were cold.
They trudged through the underground to the stairs, Suri and Genna ahead. They wound through the streets, avoiding the Drowning Square in favor of the dirt roads of the Ditch.
Beside her, Toran’s eyelids drooped, as if keeping them open was akin to lifting heavy sacks of flour. His lips were so blue it looked like icicles had sprouted from the cracks in his skin.
Nes kicked in the door of the Siren’s Hair.
The main floor of the gambling den was empty, but she didn’t relax.
The staircase loomed. She could feel the way Toran needed her support.
He hadn’t stopped shivering. There was no way they would make it to Toran’s room on the third floor.
The bedroom she shared with Suri was on the second.
“Toran,” she said. He didn’t move. “Toran.”
He lifted his head slightly. “Huh?”
“We’re going upstairs. I can’t carry you by myself.”
A soft moan. His next words were so slurred it took her several seconds to decipher them. “Why…” Long pause. “…’ot?” Another long pause. “You didn’t four.”
Why not? You did it before.
“You want me to tie a rope around your middle and drag you up?”
“Yes.”
“Not going to happen. Come on.”
Toran was slow moving up the stairs. The staircase was too narrow for them to climb side by side.
He had to take the steps one at a time, shaking hands pressed to the walls on either side while she climbed behind him, a steadying hand on his back.
They reached her bedroom, and Toran braced himself against the doorway.
Nes’s bed was made, the sheets clean. Suri’s doing, no doubt.
Genna was huddled under a pile of blankets on Suri’s bed. Toran walked to Nes’s, quaking hands gripping the thin bedpost.
It hurt to see him so fragile. She ached for him to throw her a smile, but his lips pressed together hard, as if he feared they’d fall off should he open his mouth.
She rifled through Suri’s clothes, searching for something for Toran.
Suri, for reasons she chose not to share with Nes, owned clothing of nearly every size.
Pants three sizes too big and shirts six sizes too small.
Even multiple sets of undergarments meant for men and women and some things Nes wasn’t sure were actually meant for people.
When Nes had asked Suri about the clothing, Suri had simply said, “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
Prepared for what, she didn’t know. She found a pair of pants and a shirt that looked close to Toran’s size and placed them on the bed in front of him. Toran reached around and deposited her cloak, stiff with chill and well water, into her open hands.
“I’ll wait in the hall while you change.”
Toran gave her a jerky nod, and she left the room. She didn’t close the bedroom door, instead choosing to stand a few steps away, her back to the doorway. She tapped her thumbs against the tips of her fingers and waited.
He would call her back when he was ready.
A thud—solid and loud—echoed through the floorboards and walls.
“Toran?”
He didn’t answer.
“Toran?”
She risked a glance over her shoulder. Toran lay on the floor, curled on his side, completely naked. The new pants she’d left for him lay next to the wet ones he’d discarded before collapsing. She raced into the bedroom, her heart galloping.
“Toran!”
She knelt beside him, a hand to his chest. Eyes on only his chest.
His breaths were slow, barely lifting her hand, and his heart beat erratically. She tried to catch her own breath, but it seemed intent on slipping away.
“Oh, Goddess.”
Nes whirled. Suri stood in the doorway, a hand over her mouth, the other clutching more blankets. In the light, the full horror of her expression was a brick to Nes’s gut.
“Help me get him into bed.”
Suri didn’t protest. She rushed to Toran, grabbing his feet as Nes hooked her arms under his armpits. They lifted him onto the bed. Nes pulled blankets up over his body, tucking them in around his sides, but he still shook. On the other side of the room, Genna’s form quaked.
“It’s not enough,” she whispered.
“I don’t think we can carry them both back downstairs to the fireplace,” Suri said, a crack in her normally steady voice.
“We can’t.” It was a fact. And the blankets—no matter how many of them there were—weren’t enough.
“What do we do?”
Nes pulled her shirt over her head and unbuttoned her pants. A chill ran through her as she shoved her pants to her ankles. She glanced at Suri, then to Genna and Toran. “Warm them up.”
Suri followed Nes’s lead and began stripping the clothes from her lithe body.
Nes took a deep breath, but her nerves didn’t settle.
Her veins flashed from ice to fire as she left all her clothing in a pile.
The last time she’d feared for someone’s life had been when Damari killed Mikaud.
She didn’t understand how she could have already forgotten how agonizing the uncertainty of life could be when you cared too much.
She hugged her arms to her chest, shivering.
The swish of fabric paused as Suri turned. “Nes?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope this works.”
She took a shuddering breath as she stepped toward Toran’s quivering form. “Me too.”
And though she knew Suri was there with Genna, she suddenly felt as if it was just her and Toran in the small room. The door was open and yet the walls closed in, bending toward her with every step closer to the bed.
The only safe place is next to him, her wild mind whispered.
It was a ridiculous thought. But it was exactly what she’d explained to Toran the other night. Safety was relative. Maybe it made her profoundly stupid, but even with Toran unconscious under the blankets, she felt safe with him.
Unconscious and naked. She’d tried not to look when she and Suri had lifted him into bed, but her eyes had strayed. Over his chest, down his stomach, around his hips, all the way to…
She shook the thought from her mind.
Toran could die. This cold could kill him. She wasn’t about to let that happen. Steeling herself, she threw back the covers and slid into bed.
Toran lay on his back, his breathing no more than shallow huffs. She sidled closer. Under the blankets, she ran a gentle hand over his chest and nearly drew back in shock. He was ice to the touch, far colder than his wet clothes had felt.
She forced herself to move closer. Sliding her right arm under, she turned him onto his side and wrapped her other around his front. She shimmied closer until she was flush against him, her hands splayed on his bare chest. They both shivered.
She felt so small, lying at his back. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat, the rhythm at odds with the storm inside her own chest. A deep breath in brought a rush of smells—salt and ice mingling with a scent that was entirely his own. It settled in her lungs, coaxing peace to her racing heart.
He’d saved her once. Now it was her turn.
If he lived through this, they’d be even. The thought saddened her. It meant there was nothing holding her to him. Once they found Damari, she would be free of Gadore. Free of her obligations to Toran.
She clutched him tighter. Letting go felt impossible.
She lifted her head and met Suri’s eyes across the room. She, too, was curled around Genna.
This would work. It had to.
Nes inhaled again. Turning her head, she pressed a cheek to Toran’s back, feeling the bones of his spine underneath slowly warming skin. He breathed, and she breathed with him.
She closed her eyes and waited for Toran to wake. Waited for her warmth to become theirs.