Chapter Seventeen #2
“Fuck this. I’ve had enough.” Rowan kicked an empty pail.
One of the sentinels ducked to avoid its forceful trajectory.
“Get out of here, Catseye. Crawl back to the almshouse if you want that demon so much. You may have charmed Queen Saelihn into thinking you’re anything other than a pathetic piece of shit, but your charisma won’t work on me. ”
“Aww.” Sikras flashed a cynical smirk and laid a hand over his chest. “You think I’m charismatic?”
“Get out!”
“Right. Got it.” Walking backward, Sikras thumbed behind him. “You’ll understand if I look over my shoulder as I slink away? You know, to spare myself the very real fear that you might stab me in the back? Again?”
Rowan’s narrow-eyed gaze darkened. “Why would I grant you the mercy of a swift death when it would be far crueler for you to live long enough to suffer the consequences of your inaction?”
Sikras scoffed. “With all due respect, which I’ll admit is very little, I must know; what the fuck do you have against me? I know we were never buddy-buddy when I worked for Saelihn in the past, but I don’t remember you being this much of a prick.”
“What do I have against you?” The question echoed from Rowan’s mouth, hostile and unnerving.
He marched toward Sikras, his shadow falling over him, like an ominous cage.
“While you were busy throwing your four-year-long pity party, resurrecting dead peoples’ loved ones for chump change, I was busy keeping Vessik’s minions at bay.
I was the one keeping Nyllmas’s people safe. ”
Refusing to shrink under Rowan’s shadow, Sikras inclined his chin. “And you’re mad that you had to do your job?”
“I’m mad that I had to do your job. And when my daughter came of age and joined the R.S.
, she went off to do your job, too. She was nineteen years old when Vessik’s undead overran her and gutted her with a pike.
Nineteen when I had to dismember her corpse so Vessik couldn’t reanimate her, turn her into an abomination, and make her body fight for his depraved fucking cause.
I did the unthinkable to honor her legacy.
You couldn’t even bother to do the bare minimum for your wife.
What you’ve done to your queen, your kingdom, to Sentinel Champion Reese, sickens my soul, and no number of past deeds done in justice’s name will ever compensate for the shameful disgrace you turned out to be. ”
Wow. That was a lot to unpack. Sikras bristled under the heat of Rowan’s glare, but rage slowly converted into a rare flicker of empathy, and he said the only thing that seemed important in the moment. “I’m sorry about your daughter.”
Rowan pressed his lips into a tight line and turned away.
“The first year you holed up in your mansion, you had my pity, and I still had hope. The second year, my pity waned, but hope remained. By year three, that hope dried up. Here we are, year four, and all that remains is disgust. Get out of my sight. Return to Vinepool. Turn yourself in and rot in whatever dungeon the queen assigns you. Come what may, we’ll finish this without you. ”
“Rowan—”
“Get out!”
The two words echoed through the leafless trees, and Sikras stood, unflinching. His gaze slid to Benjamin, the closest thing he had to a moral compass, to seek guidance. He found none. In silence, he relented with a nod, turned his back, and blazed a trail to Vinepool.
PERHAPS THE CIRCUMSTANCES made the wind feel colder. The gales that once caressed Sikras’s face stung his cheeks like a nest of invisible hornets. Poor blood circulation certainly didn’t help either. Failing to suppress a shiver, he blew an icy breath into his cupped hands and frowned.
Damned if that didn’t somehow do more damage than good.
His core ached to find Helspira. He needed to ensure she was all right.
Needed to verify with his eyes that she hadn’t bled out or been struck by a rogue stream of lightning or suffered any other creative pitfalls by the gods, or fate, or whatever omnipotent force seemed bent on siphoning the joy from his life over the last four years.
Purposeful strides carried him forward toward Vinepool, toward her, and that felt right.
But why did his guts tighten in revulsion? What was that feeling? Shame?
Benjamin’s clanking cuirass provided an audible accompaniment to their turmoil. Save for that, the howling wind, and the occasional cawing bird, it was the only noise since their departure from the Red Sentinel.
“So,” Sikras said without breaking stride, “Rowan really gave it to me back there.”
“Absolutely annihilated you, yeah.”
“On some incredibly macabre level”—Sikras stepped over a fallen log—“it’s a relief to know Rowan’s prickishness is due to the traumas of war and not, you know, just an innate desire to be a dick.”
“Loss affects everyone differently.” Benjamin paused, skull pointed toward Vinepool, which finally appeared on the horizon. “On the subject of trauma-induced propensities, are you sure you’re not just using this whole finding-Helspira thing as an excuse not to face Vessik? Or Imri?”
“I—” A thousand and one habitual lies flooded to the forefront of his mind, but he bit each of them back. “I don’t actually believe Helspira is in any danger, no. You and she are two of the most capable people I know.”
Benjamin came to a halt. “Sikras, stop. I need you to be honest with me. I know that’s not your forte, but look me in the eye sockets right now.
You promised me that you’d aid the Red Sentinel in taking down Vessik.
I’m okay with delaying things long enough to check on Helspira, but I need to know. Are you going to honor that promise?”
Sikras stopped as instructed but fell short of meeting Benjamin’s eyeless gaze. “I’m sorry we left. I know you wanted to aid the Red Sentinel.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’m avoiding a lot of things.”
“So, you admit it?”
His head snapped up, and Sikras donned a fake, forced grin.
“Of course.” His arms spread at his sides, hovering, and he freed a miserable laugh.
“Of course, I am, Benjamin. Do you think I want to kill my oldest friend? You think I want to see the state in which I left my wife, your sister, for four fucking years? I can handle being a shit friend or a shit husband, but both simultaneously in a single setting is a little more than my fragile brain can manage.”
Calmly, patiently, Benjamin slid his hands to his hips. “With respect, Sikras, don’t you think your refusal to aid Nyllmas makes you a shit friend to Saelihn?”
His gaze flicked down, and he frowned. “I’ve been a shit friend for so long, Benjamin, that I’ve forgot how to be anything else.”
The two stood motionless in the flat open field leading to Vinepool, wind carrying the faint scent of amethystle and musty owligator feces.
In the distant horizon’s fog, the washed-out towers of Saelihn’s castle waited.
The thought of her disappointed face twisted Sikras’s stomach.
Saelihn and Imri were such dear friends; if Imri wasn’t a walking corpse, she would be rolling in her grave over the grievances Sikras had caused the queen throughout the years.
But Saelihn wasn’t the only one he had let down, was she?
“You know,” Sikras mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “you didn’t have to come with me. I know how much you wanted to see things through with the Red Sentinel. Oaths and whatnot.”
Benjamin shrugged. “I still have legs. I can walk back any time I want.”
“Will you?”
“Eventually. But Helspira is a vital member in our abomination alliance. I have to make sure she’s okay. Which reminds me”—he punched Sikras in the shoulder—“that’s for inviting her to sleep in our tent while you slept outside like a moron.”
“Blood and bone.” Sikras rubbed his arm and scrunched his nose. “How can you strike a man in good conscience when he’s writhing in self-pity?”
“How do you managed to get a woman in your bed and still find a way to muck it up? I may not have eyes, but I can see there’s something between you two.”
“She’s a friend.” A friend he was inexplicably, undeniably attracted to on every conceivable level.
Benjamin wagged a finger. “Nice try, pal. You may be a talented liar, but that one wasn’t believable for a second.”
The hair on Sikras’s arms raised as discomfort spread through him like venom. “This may come as a shock to you, Benjamin, but I’m married to your sister.”
“She’s dead, Sikras. You’re a widower. You have been for four long, sedentary years.” The words came fast and cutting, but the severity of Benjamin’s voice turned to empathy when he squeezed Sikras’s shoulders. “I miss her with all that I am and all that I used to be. I do. But she’s gone.”
“Til death do us part,” Sikras said, raspy voice breaking. “That’s what I agreed to, and last I checked, she was only mostly dead.”
“What you saw the second time we returned to confront Vessik”—Benjamin shook his head—“those were just bones. They might move. They might walk. They might even step to some of the dances you two used to do together. But you know as well as I do that the best parts of Imri Nikabod aren’t in there.”
“As long as she walks Siaphara’s ground, there’s ...” Sikras’s words crumbled into an uncertain stutter. “I—I could still—”
“What? Save her? Bring her back?” Benjamin freed him from his grasp and stepped backward.
“If you thought there was even a sliver of a chance, you’d have done it years ago.
Imri’s existence on this plane is nothing more than a shallow comfort to you.
As long as she’s still here, you don’t have to mourn her. But she’s gone.”
“Benjamin—”
“And what’s worse, so are you. I’m a literal walking corpse, and I swear some days I’m more alive than you are.”
Shaking hands pinched the bridge of his nose, and Sikras squeezed his eyes shut. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because you’re my friend for Dionus’s sake. My brother.” Benjamin swatted him with the back of his hand. “I’d like to see you happy before I die a second time. Or third. Fourth? I don’t know, I lost track. Now, answer me honestly. Does Helspira make you happy?”
“I barely know her.”
“Answer the question.”
“I—” The words caught in his throat, or perhaps, the right ones didn’t exist. His gaze unfocused, but a slow, genuine smile stretched one corner of his lips. “I don’t think I remember what it’s like to be happy. But she makes me forget I’m miserable.”
A bony hand clapped onto Sikras’s back. “If that’s true, the woman’s more deity than demon, because that’s a damn miracle. Let’s make sure she’s still alive and kicking, then go kick Vessik’s ass, yeah?”
“Soon.” Tipping his head back, Sikras traced the cloud formations to avoid looking at Benjamin’s skull. “I answered your question. I need you to do the same for me.”
Remaining silent, Benjamin awaited the impending inquiry.
Haunted by Death’s words, Sikras stiffened. He just had to say it. Blurt it out. Dive in with both feet and get it over with. “Am I hurting you, keeping you alive like this? Denying you eternal rest?”
A pause. It lasted only a second, but never did a moment feel like the birth and death of entire civilizations. “I’d live a thousand lifetimes with you. You’re my dearest friend.”
Those words should’ve been comforting, but none spoke the language of avoidance more fluently than Sikras.
Somewhere in the sea of repression, a realization surfaced.
Instinct compelled him to drown it, to shove it back down to its years-long prison, but he grappled against the impulse and let it float.
Let it breathe. Let it gut him from the inside.
Sikras looked down, bit the inside of his cheek to steady his expression, and donned a false smile. “I know what I have to do, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t terrify me.”
Benjamin placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared. You know, there may not be many instances where this statement is true but murdering your best friend and falling for someone who isn’t your wife doesn’t make you the bad guy.”
A brief lapse in his mental fortitude caused Sikras to cringe. “I’m not afraid to be the bad guy. Just afraid to be the last guy standing.”
After a quick reassuring squeeze, Benjamin’s arm dropped to his side. “I’ll stand with you until someone cuts off my legs. Then I suppose I’ll kneel. Or sit. There’s a lot of variables depending on where my legs are severed in this scenario.”
Sikras managed a grim smile. “I appreciate it, but I think this is one fight you might have to take lying down.”
The wind blew Benjamin’s cloak as Sikras’s statement settled in. “You’re serious?”
He nodded, focusing on slow, steady breaths to quell the rising panic.
“A promise is a promise. Unfortunately, the list of people I can trust is tragically short. It’s a good thing we’re trailing Helspira, because I can’t do this without her help.
If she agrees, well”—he pulled in a deep breath and held it—“I have one last deal to make with Death.”
“A deal?” Benjamin cocked his head. “Do you even have anything left that she’d want?”
With full confidence, Sikras smirked. “I have eight.”