Chapter 19
Dark of Night
By the time we got in, I'd gone through the entire fucking gamut of emotions and physiological responses.
Giddy shock, at somehow walking out of that place alive; terror, at what might have been.
Grief. Shame. That I'd put Elethenn in that position, that I'd made Araxis vulnerable, that Tamcer Temahura – who'd been so kind to me, so patient with me – was dead because of his proximity to me.
Sashen Solar, a walking cataclysm. Maybe Seraphim had been right after all: nothing but ruination followed in my wake.
I'd vomited in an alleyway when we'd approached the docks, waving off two concerned sinnenthi who were very much perplexed by that particular human response to too much emotion.
Tam had told me once that he'd fought a human opponent who'd somehow weaponized vomiting; he'd spent one afternoon trying to convince me to learn to puke on command, just in case, and had been so fucking disappointed when I'd said it was off the table.
Which is when I'd started laughing, rinsing the taste of bile from my mouth and spitting water onto the grating of the tunnel that had taken us to the docks.
I'd laughed until tears leaked from my eyes, and then I'd fallen to silence as we slid from Radiant Ward to Verdant Ward.
I'd sat in the shuttle, running my fingers over the seam where I'd hidden Araxis's quill before the Tournament, over and over again while he watched.
I was so far beyond embarrassment that I couldn't bring myself to stop.
I would have done it the whole time, I think, instinctive and obsessive, except that Araxis had reached for my hand and taken my frigid fingers in his. Better than a quill.
So by the time we reached the creche, I wasn't surprised that I'd started shaking, or that my core temperature had seemingly plummeted to below freezing.
I wasn't surprised that I felt like my heart had been pinned through with shards of ice, or that I'd swallowed a dagger that was slowly cutting my gut to ribbons.
Tam was dead because of me. The thought kept stuttering through my mind. He was dead. He'd been killed, and it was my fault. I've got your back, kid. And he had, and it had gotten him fucking murdered.
It was the added layer of shame about Elethenn that kept threatening to turn my stomach again: Elethenn, who'd gone out back with Tam to have something fun and breezy, who I'd encouraged, and who had, instead, had to sit in a pool of Tam's blood while Nizanin had said all those awful things about him, and then he'd been rescued by me (embarrassing) and Araxis (which, as his sort of boss, maybe rival, and very possibly crush, had to be not just embarrassing, but utterly and devastatingly humiliating; irreparably humiliating; the kind of thing you maybe didn't ever recover from).
I'd known Elethenn had some sort of past that made him skittish and uncertain and I'd shoved him into the meat grinder and destroyed any sense of stability or self-esteem he'd been cobbling together.
My fault. My fault. Every time I had the thought, I tried to shove it down – I couldn't hold it, not yet; we didn't have space or time for me to fall to pieces – but it surfaced, again and again and again, flotsam that wouldn't just go drown in the depths.
A corpse bobbing to the surface, impossible to ignore.
Elethenn was quiet the whole way back to the creche.
It was deep into the night, so everyone else was asleep, but he beelined to the dining room all the same.
I could hear the stove clicking on, a tray and teapot clattering down on the counter, as I stepped out of my boots and stood trembling near the front door.
There in the dim light, Araxis watched me; he was a shadow, little more than the impression of black eyes in a white face – but he was a shadow who had always, always been able to see into all the dark corners of my soul, the places I tried to hide.
So I wasn't really surprised when he said, quiet, "This is not your fault, Sashen. "
I made a sound that maybe started out as a laugh, but instead sounded pained, a punch to the diaphragm.
"Really? Because it was my idea to go down to Radiant Ward tonight, or to go back at all after the attack.
Rodil said I should find somewhere closer, and if I had – if I'd stopped going – then – then –" Then Tam would be alive.
"How the fuck didn't I think that maybe something was going on?
I'm – I didn't even think. I was being an idiot, and then we just walked in there and Elethenn could have – He might have – And you –"
Araxis reached out, pressing one firm hand to the centre of my chest as he pushed me back against the wall, leaning some pressure into the touch as I sucked in broken little breaths.
Under his palm, the sharp edges softened the tiniest bit, and once I'd stopped gasping, Araxis let his hand drift up to my neck, his thumb tracing my jawline.
"Elethenn is fine," he murmured. "You are fine.
I am fine. Regardless of whether you went to Radiant Ward tonight, your coach would have been killed: he was in the way, and the Unbound are not forgiving.
They are ruthless. And they are responsible for their actions, Sashen. "
"But the message –" Tam had already been dead. It had been a lure, and I'd chased it, hungry for information and for a night away.
"Just because someone took advantage of you does not mean the error lies with you, beloved."
I couldn't hear that, not right now. I blinked rapidly and tipped my head to the side, looking up the hallway toward the kitchen where I could still hear Elethenn rattling about.
Araxis's fingers shifted my chin so that I was looking back at him.
His eyes were endless black, but of a different quality than the darkness of the hall.
"Go see Rodil. I will speak with Elethenn. "
"I'm fine," I said, voice hollow. "It can wait until morning. Besides, it was my fault Elethenn was there in the first place. I need to apologize and –"
"No, beloved," he said gently. "Go see Rodil.
It will only take them a few minutes to assess your wrist. Then you can take care of yourself.
You can wash the night away." Araxis blinked – I could see the flash of his white eyelids closing – before stepping in closer, so that when he spoke next, it was little more than a whisper.
"I will speak with Elethenn alone. He will not wish to speak to you about tonight; it is not a slight on you, but a matter of pride. Once I have finished, I will join you."
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, stuck there in that twilight moment. Elethenn was my friend, and this mess was one that I'd gotten him into. Everything inside of me urged me to go to him, to offer comfort, to apologize, to make sure he was alright.
But – well.
Araxis was head of house. And, more importantly, I trusted him. And if I trusted Araxis with all the broken, serrated parts of my soul, then of course I'd trust him with Elethenn's too. Araxis had a gentle touch, and he could grasp intuitively what Elethenn might be feeling in a way I could never.
"Okay," I murmured. "But don't be long. And will you bring tea?"
"Yes, Sashen," Araxis said. "I will join you soon.
" And then he reached out and touched my cheek, like he had back in the blood-spattered office.
This time, though, he leaned in and kissed me, achingly soft and tender.
When he slipped down the hall and into the kitchen, I stayed in the dark for several moments, feeling dizzy with the aftermath of his touch, his kindness, his – everything.
In what universe had I ever pretended that he could only be a client to me?
In what universe had I ever dreamt that I would consider that enough, sufficient, acceptable?
I wanted him to be so close to me that I could nestle myself inside of his bones; I wanted to live within the glow he cast, in the softness he reserved for those he loved.
And I wanted to protect that softness when he offered it to others too.
And if Nizanin, if anyone, couldn't see Araxis's tenderness as strength, they didn't deserve to breathe the same air as he did.
The dining room door shut with a gentle click, and I could hear the quiet murmur of Araxis speaking.
I didn't want to linger; I didn't want to eavesdrop, not even accidentally, so I padded up the hallway and tapped on Rodil's door.
I wasn't surprised when it took them awhile to answer; they'd clearly been sleeping, wearing rumpled clothes and blinking at me blearily.
"I hurt my wrist," I said, holding it up, and then, exhausted, I burst into tears.
* * *
Of course, when Rodil bustled me across the hall into their office and sat me down to start examining my wrist, I'd told them tearily that they'd been right; I shouldn't have ever gone back down to Radiant Ward and my arrogance had gotten someone killed.
I cried while Rodil carefully poked and prodded my wrist. They asked me about what happened, but I hadn't been able to get more than two words out before I started shuddering again, so they'd just patted my knee although they looked like they'd rather be doing just about anything else.
Once I was able to breathe enough to get out a snotty apology for crying, Rodil had reminded me, quite firmly, that it was expected that I would be having an emotional reaction.
"After all," they'd said, "your friend has been killed.
But – Sashen, I must ask: why did this happen? What has happened? Who did this?"