23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter twenty-three
A series of voices fades in and out of my mind as I try to focus, time slipping away.
‘Luka, you in there?’ River asks, and I groggily try to peel open my eyes. His soft blue ones fill my vision as I blink away the darkness.
‘Quillian,’ I mumble, pushing away from River.
‘He’s been taken to the wellness centre.’
‘Oh, wow, that hurts,’ I say, leaning my head back against the wall and cupping the side of my face. Opening my eyes again I glance around, making sure someone has dispersed the prisoners. ‘Where is Nix?’
‘Gone to cool off.’ River’s shoulders sag.
‘Cool off,’ I say, still trying to clear my vision. ‘Cool off ? He shouldn’t have any need to cool off – what the fuck was that, River? He could have killed him.’
I look at him suddenly, a sickening feeling growing in my chest.
‘Not dead,’ he says. ‘But he’s pretty busted up.’
His brows draw together, his disappointment more apparent than his anger right now. ‘As are you,’ he says quietly. ‘I … Lu, I—’
I take the hand of the man who has always been a guiding presence in my life – one that was, and is, always so calm and stable in comparison to my wild best friend – and let him pull me to standing, leaning into him for support. I can see the heaviness in his features as he draws me near, shadowed under the weight of supporting Nix for so long, and I don’t even know all the details of why. Not anymore. But it’s so clear it hurts; Nix’s duty has altered him in some way I might only ever be able to guess at.
The hall to the wellness centre is quiet as I make my way there with River, his bulky form shadowing mine. His mood is dark, darker than what seems right under the radiance of the sunlight, but it matches the turmoil under my own skin.
Nix beat Quillian. I want to say I don’t understand, that I don’t know why. But I do know. Nix’s fists literally flew at the thought of Quillian and me together. What I don’t know is why that would set him off – what that was a trigger for. The anger churning in my gut makes me feel sick.
‘He had no right, River,’ I mutter under my breath and glancing sideways. ‘I’ve never seen him like that before, I just—’
I throw my hands up before noticing the prisoners eyeing us curiously, the rumours obviously having already whipped through the rest of prison. Even though it feels like every one of them was there, watching. Something I will have to try and deal with when my head doesn’t feel like it’s pounding to the point of explosion with every step I take. I groan when I think about how many of them are already contacting Traelen to give their version of events. Of the prison that is unravelling under the watch of Quillian and me.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ I ask.
River sighs heavily, as if the weight of the world pulls on his shoulders.
‘It’s been a messed up time for us, Lu.’
His downcast gaze and clenched fists paints a picture of complicated sadness when I glance at him.
‘I’m not going to make excuses for what he did,’ he continues, ‘but there are—fuck, things I can’t really talk about. Between our … current situation and the fact some shit is just really fucking hard but … our service is – was – fucked up. It’s what brought us here. We were asked to do one too many things we couldn’t live with. Appalling things.’
The anger in my gut directed at Nix starts to fizzle, leaving an uncomfortable sensation in its wake. I think of the prison on the other side, the torture I know goes on there but have never seen – never want to see. How many of the people behind those walls were never supposed to end up there? How many of the ‘prisoners’ here should be over there? Is the power deciding the fates of those of this prison-island the same one sending people like River and Nix to do things so awful on their duties that they can’t talk about them? That makes them do … whatever secret, probably quite morally grey, activities they are now actively engaged in up here?
‘What did they make you do?’ I ask quietly, as we round the corner and the onlookers start to fall away.
River stops just before the entrance to the core of the peace and calm that emanates through the prison and I glance behind, taking a step back to him in the hallway. Gently, he takes my wrist in his hand.
‘I’d tell you everything, Lu, but it will take time and there are things that are not mine to say. And some things are really difficult to say – or hear.’
‘I can’t help him if I don’t know,’ I say, confused tears trying to force their way forward.
‘You can help more than you think, Lu – you doubt yourself too much.’
River’s voice is so soft I can barely make it out, but it hits the same note he’s told me again and again. As expected, the hope in his face that I can help is clear as day. It tugs at me, at the place Nix and I are connected. Pressing on the truth that I will help him no matter the cost. But it doesn’t stop the fact there is another connection, one glowing with a warm light, that I will defend as well.
If I can prove to Cortane they are both worth saving.
‘Do you know,’ I say mildly, half wondering at how groggy I might still be, ‘two people I know both have tattoos about “proving” something. I don’t know what that means for them, but somehow I feel like I am constantly having to prove something to everyone. I just don’t know when I’ve done it, or if I ever will.’
‘After you,’ River says after a beat, gesturing to the door to the medical section of the centre – the same place Quillian stitched up my skin.
‘I’m leaving,’ I hear Quillian grind out from the other side of the room.
He’s roughly shrugging his shirt back on when we walk in, River only a step behind, and I hold my breath. Suddenly unsure if he would want me here or not. He spins, the front of his shirt covered in blood and undone. The air I’d captured in my lungs rushes out between the fingers I press to my mouth.
His gaze lands on my face immediately and he turns to stone. The only thing that moves after a long moment are his eyes as they narrow and slide to River.
River shifts on his feet once but says nothing, almost like he’s waiting for punishment for Nix’s actions.
Quillian stalks across the space to us, leaving the healer staring after him, a white cloth held limply in his hand. I remain frozen to the spot, my hands remaining on my mouth as I take him in, an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach. His face is still bloody and one of his brows has split open, blood leaking down his cheek and dripping slowly from his jaw. There are black, tacky bits of hair sticking to his face and part of the tattoo on his neck is obscured.
He doesn’t bother with the buttons of his ruined, blood-splattered shirt, and I check what I can see of his torso, searching for more injuries, but it’s hard to tell between his coloured tattoo and the blood.
Stopping less than a foot from us he looks at me, his forest eyes almost black in his expressionless face.
‘If you ever drag me away from her when she’s hurt again, I will not be merciful. Understand?’
The hairs on my arms stand on end but River seems to understand it’s him that’s being addressed, despite Quillian’s stare not leaving my face.
‘You were barely conscious,’ River says quietly, and I swallow.
‘Not an excuse.’ Quillian finally looks at River again. ‘He hurts her again – accidentally or otherwise – he forfeits all right to hold this against me. Leave us.’
River and I turn to each other at the same time, me searching him for any hint of confirmation of the understanding crystallising in my mind. What ‘this’ Quillian is talking about. How clearly he knows there is a dynamic between Nix and me and it’s one that now involves him. How he … orders River in a way that seems so different to a Warden/prisoner relationship.
I stare at him. Quillian is their commanding officer. The person who coordinated with Claudius to get them here.
Quietly, the medic takes his leave as well, and River gathers me in his arms. Kissing my forehead briefly before pressing me away by my upper arms, his gaze flicks over my face. He squeezes me gently and a warmth runs around me, strong enough for me to pull myself back into him and hold him hard once more, as the solidifying of what I’d suspected about Quillian becomes abundantly clear.
‘I’m so sorry, Lu,’ he whispers into my hair.
‘I’m okay, this isn’t on you,’ I say, trying not to wince as I smile gently at him and pull away. A flash of guilt sparks behind my ribs at the weight of responsibility in his frame as he leaves the wellness centre. The large, frosted glass door swings silently after him. He isn’t to blame for Nix’s actions, but I now also wonder how much Nix is responsible – what was he made to do on his national duty that’s damaged him like this? How much of it is because of Quillian’s role as their leader?
I look at the opaque surface of the door several moments longer, even after River has left, trying to collect my spinning thoughts amongst the throb in my cheek. As I turn back to Quillian, my lips start to quiver as I desperately try to keep the tears at bay. But his face, battered and bloodied, drags a sob from my chest, and I cover my mouth again even as my mind whirls with questions. Trying to trap the emotions inside.
A tear meanders down the side of my face and I shake my head. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t believe—’
He steps towards me, close enough his warmth starts to seep into my rapidly cooling body. His strong hands take mine and he gently pulls them away from my face.
‘Hey,’ he whispers, the coldness draining away from his face. ‘Don’t do that – don’t cry. Not for me.’
I trail the side of his face with my fingers, so lightly his expression doesn’t change. At least, not in pain. But his softness takes root.
‘He deserves your tears,’ he says quietly, ‘and then your support. Don’t waste them on me. But, shit – this—’
‘I just – I don’t know why he did that, he’s never—’ I sniff. ‘He’s not like that.’
He runs a thumb over my bottom lip.
‘I know,’ he whispers.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, the band around my ribs loosening a little at the lack of fire in his tone about Nix.
He nods slowly.
‘Yeah,’ he breathes, still holding my jaw and one of my hands. A dark cloud crashes over him again as he scans my face. ‘But I’m absolutely furious about this.’
‘I’m fine, please don’t make a thing of it. It’s nothing compared to what happened to you. Or the depth of trauma I think it means Nix has been through.’
‘I probably will be a little more colourful than you tomorrow,’ he says. ‘But that doesn’t change my feelings, Luka.’ He points to his face. ‘Most of this was deserved.’
I frown, but he cuts me off before I can ask, images of the way he didn’t fight back flashing in my mind.
‘That,’ he says, turning his finger to me instead, ‘was not. No matter how traumatised he is.’
‘I need to talk to him,’ I say, ‘I need to understand.’
His hand drops away from my cheek slowly, the tingling staying even after his skin has left mine.
‘We also have a lot of explaining to do for Traelen. I had the security team shut down external comms for a while so we can try and get ahead of it, but that won’t last long.’
The relief I feel is instantaneous. Today feels like all the balls I’m responsible for have been thrown into the clouds and I have no idea how to catch them all. Or which ones should be caught first. Mentally sorting through the things we need to do feels like wading through mud.
‘First, we get ourselves patched up,’ I say wearily. ‘Then Nix, then the prisoners and Traelen. But after that, Quillian’—I wait until he looks back up at me—‘you are going to help me understand every tiny thing that is happening here, got it?’
At Quillian’s behest, the previous healer returns with his more magically gifted team leader, but Quillian refuses to be seen to first. So I watch him, watch me, as I perch on the bed and Shiloh attends to my face. Asking me questions and tilting my head backwards and forward, pressing on my jawline and cheekbone in different places.
I wince when she touches my cheekbone, and Quillian clenches his fists harder in his pockets, pulling at the fabric. His shirt is still undone and it takes more concentration than I’d like to admit to stop my gaze dipping below his busted face.
He cocks his head slightly when he catches me looking but I can’t look away, despite the blood I can feel rushing across my collarbones and flushing my skin. When Shiloh finishes her healing magic on me, Quillian reluctantly takes my place on the bed. Virtually scowling.
‘Most of our Wardens don’t look like they’ve been brawling,’ I tell him and he grunts, half-amused but still resistant to the help. ‘Shiloh is one of our most talented Arkanans. Let her work her magic,’ I say, my face still tingling slightly where she’s healed me as best she can – setting my body up to do the rest on its own. The dull ache will likely last a while longer but at least the splitting pain has subsided.
In the back of my mind, a little voice reminds me I haven’t been taking my magic dampener. It’s been a short amount of time but I haven’t noticed a single change, and with each day that passes and there’s nothing new … well, it seems more and more certain I have pushed down for good on whatever that was going to be.
‘I’m tougher than most Wardens,’ he says, eyes flashing in my direction. ‘Not all, but most.’
A soft smile appears on Shiloh’s face as she glances back at me. Her fiery red hair piled into a high collection of strands on her head, keeping it out of her face as she works. But her uniform is like mine, an ethereal dress. Not very practical for our healing staff, but it upholds our image.
Just like that blasted painting.
Beautiful, artful, but a false reality all the same.
Just like the one I have been living – a prettily dressed concierge on a pretty island with pretty things.
Yet, now, I feel like the paint’s been scrubbed off and I’m starting to see the actual shapes underneath.
And they’re definitely not pretty.
The tension in Quillian’s face softens slightly as Shiloh lets her healing run over the surface of his skin, but he remains watching me. She won’t erase the damage completely, only Nuntainia’s most skilled healing wielders can do that – none of which we have here right now – but she’ll greatly soften the visible components and pave the way for a faster healing process by our own bodies. I still haven’t looked at my face but I can tell from the amount of tingling that she has significantly reduced the damage. Quillian had a quiet conversation with her before we started and, looking at his still-wounded face, I have a suspicion he’s asked her to use more of her energy on me than him.
I stand behind Shiloh, watching her work on him, but the space between Quillian and me is almost a visceral thing. Like I could reach out and pluck its strings. My fingertips itch to do just that.
Shiloh finishes and I help her clean up, ferrying the cloths and small brass bowls to the long timber bench. Popping them into the large, square, white sink, I run the faucet and ready to wash them. She comes next to me and bumps me lightly with her hip.
‘I can do this, Luka,’ she says, looking at me sideways, a sly grin on her face. ‘I can totally see why you’re into him,’ she whispers. ‘That broody tension is enough to give me goosebumps!’
I can’t help the laugh that escapes my mouth.
‘No comment,’ I say, despite what my smile clearly answers as I wipe my hands on the stone-coloured linen towel. ‘Hey,’ I say on a whim, ‘what did it feel like when your magic was coming in?’
‘Gosh,’ she says. ‘I haven’t thought about that in a long time.’ She goes quiet for a moment. ‘I suppose it’s like what we’d wish puberty was like … there’s this gentle warmth that spreads through your limbs each day, building until you feel like you might have sparks coming from your fingertips. And, as it dissipates, you’re left with a sense of … fullness. Like, on the inside, you’ve grown into the shape you were supposed to. It’s easy. Right. At least, it was for me.’
I smile at her, a weight settling in my chest. One I don’t think will ever dislodge.
I shouldn’t have asked.
‘Ready?’ Quillian says as I meet him at the door.
He glances down at my hands where they hang by my sides and, for a moment, I think he will take one in his.
‘How you manage this will be important for your … stability as Warden. We’re going to need a pretty solid story.’
My heart compresses at the look on his face but I can’t read it.
‘Let’s go,’ he says, pushing the door open.
I stay a step behind him as we walk through the halls, avoiding the gazes of the prisoners around us. Finn strides down the hall from the other direction and nods almost imperceptibly at Quillian as he passes.
‘Sir,’ he says, his voice as quiet as the first time I met him.
Reaching the hall to the office, we make a turn and my stomach flutters uncomfortably at the blood that still stains the timber door frame. My concierge habits are hard to break though and I immediately text Emeris to get a cleanup crew to the Warden’s office.
Each step as we approach seems to echo with the things we need to do – things I need to do. Sort out Nix, get a story together for Traelen, reschedule my events committee meeting, check on Paulana, and find out more about the wards and how to go through them or use the one in the Warden’s Residence. As if I could possibly forget that Nix and River need an out and I am the conduit to get them to it. Hopefully without fucking up my own exit in the meantime. But every moment we don’t have this situation completely contained is another one of the prisoners could be reaching out directly to Traelen.
I groan internally. I’m very confident things would not be this messy if Claudius were still here to guide us all through. Because that’s what he would have done – helped all of us, Nix and River, Cortane, Quillian, and Bloss and me – to each do our part of the bigger picture he saw for us.
The details of the wards are something he must have known about, information I could have just asked him for. Or he would have just told me so I could share it with Cortane on his behalf.
I glance at Quillian. I haven’t asked him outright about the wards which, by now, I’m quite confident I could. But not in the middle of the hall we walk down. But, when I think on his comments about what he was told when coming here, I think Nix is probably right – he’s unlikely to know anything more than I do.
‘Luka!’
Blossom’s fierce whisper has me spinning on the spot. Quillian pausing beside me. There’s murder on her face as she looks me over, only once nodding in Quillian’s direction to acknowledge him.
She’s not surprised, River has obviously found her and filled her in, but I don’t have the energy to explain right now. Certainly not in view of the prisoners who still linger in the walkways.
Finally, she looks at Quillian again.
‘We need you,’ she says, no emotion in her voice. ‘There’s another body.’
I want to throw my hands in the air and swear. Instead, I give myself a moment and tell Bloss to lead the way. As she does, I find I am less worried about who it might be. And more hopeful it was someone who deserved it. Like Kasera. Like Aiten.
Like who knows how many more of them up here.
Including Davorous.