Chapter 15
With a nod and a gesture, Vaduin signals to the older Worldkeeper who led us here.
Just as I suspected, he guides Gregor and me toward one of the exits I noted earlier—a narrow hallway awaits us.
I take one last look at Vaduin over my shoulder.
He’s already engaged in deep conversation with another Worldkeeper, too hushed for me to catch a word of it.
The walls of the passageway close in around us. What was once the hall of a building crumbles into another tunnel. The air is thick with moisture and the peaty scent of dense earth. At the end of the hall is a faint glow, a turn, and then another room.
Twino and Ren sit off to the side, talking in low tones around a lantern. They both are on their feet the moment we enter. Gregor goes to them, but I only give them the barest of nods, my focus entirely on a tattered blanket hung like a curtain in the back corner of the room.
She’s there. She must be.
The Worldkeeper gestures toward the curtained-off corner and leaves. None of them stops me or says anything else. I cross, gently tugging the blanket aside.
Arina lies on a makeshift cot that looks more like a pile of blankets than a mattress.
She looks just as bad as she did in Halazar, her bones cutting through scar-covered skin.
Her eyes are shut, but her lips move with barely audible whispers, no fully formed words, as though she’s speaking to someone in her dreams.
My little sister…I always saw her as not just younger but small—smaller than was ever fair, if I’m being honest. But she’s truly tiny now, whittled away by cruelty.
It’s nearly impossible to believe that this is the same young woman who would charge into any danger headfirst. The clever, tenacious girl who was ready to tear down Oricalis before she was ten.
I slowly drop to my knees beside her, afraid I might startle her, even though I know she’s a world away. The rise and fall of her chest is steady. Her eyelids flutter. Her mumbled speech pauses, only to continue after a breath.
“Arina…” My voice barely works. “It’s me…”
Another pause; for a second, I think she might open her eyes, and it damn near kills me waiting for it. But she doesn’t.
Reaching out with trembling fingers, I lightly touch her hand. No response. The hands that once moved over cards with the grace of a dancer are motionless.
I gently caress her cheek with my knuckles. She lets out a wheeze. Her brow furrows, and I retract my hand so fast it’s as though I were burned. Even just the faintest of touches and she flinches.
What did Ravin do to you? I already know it is more horrible than my worst imagining.
The question alone sours my stomach, and I look away, unable to bear the images of torture that the sight of her brings to the forefront of my imagination.
Then guilt instantly brings my gaze back.
She deserves for me to bear witness—not to what he did to her, but to her strength and perseverance.
“You made it,” I whisper. “You survived.” And that is a rebellion far greater than any I could ever lead. “Now you can come back to me. I swear, from now on, I will keep you safe. I will never let anything like this happen again. I’ll burn down the world, if that’s what it takes.”
Expectedly, there is no reaction. I force myself to step away. A part of me wants to stay by her side for every hour between now and when she wakes, however long it takes. But another part of me knows I can help her more by keeping myself moving and continuing the fight.
I emerge around the curtain. All three men look at me with similar pained expressions.
“She needs help.” I state the obvious.
Twino nods. “They do have some supplies here, and talented Arcanists who have already taken a look at her and are working on a strengthening draught.”
“I’ve seen their ‘supplies.’ She needs real help,” I say flatly. Gregor’s eyes dart to the opening of the room with a slightly worried expression. I just shrug. I hardly care if someone overhears.
“At least she’s alive,” Ren says softly, almost trailing off. I hear what he doesn’t say: unlike Jura.
I look to Gregor, and he hears my unspoken question, giving a slight nod. He told them.
“I’m sorry about…” I sit heavily on the floor by the lantern, the words too much. The day too much. Every part of my body hurts, but nothing more than my heart. “Jura saved my life. She took the others out with her—there’s no way they could’ve survived. I wanted…There wasn’t time to…She didn’t…”
I can’t find the words. What can I say to them? What can I offer when her final words were for me to run, and I did—I left her to die in agony like a fucking coward?
Twino eases himself down next to me. He has a long, thin board he’s using as a makeshift cane. I can only imagine the pain he’s in after today.
“It was a good death,” he says quietly, staring into the lantern. “She died to save a friend. I hope when my time comes, someone can say something half as kind about me.”
“It’s not as though any of us are dying comfortably in our beds, surrounded by family, at a ripe old age.” Gregor lands heavily on the other side of the lantern.
Ren says nothing as he sits next to Twino, their sides pressed against each other. He rests his temple on his partner’s shoulder.
I struggle to think of something comforting to say that might ease the grief. But words fail me. Just like I failed them…
“Wish we had some mint tea,” Ren says softly. “Jura always loved it most before bed.”
That simple sentiment has tears pricking at my eyes. I inhale a slow, shuddering breath. If I break now, the tears will come, and they won’t stop.
I can remember the little balcony gardens Ren kept for Jura’s cooking overflowing with mint. The aroma of the tea that she’d place on my nightstand when I was up too late reading or inking, Arina snoring softly beside me. Our little home in the lofts and attics above the Starcrossed Club.
Safety. Family. Gone—no, destroyed, all thanks to one man.
“We’ll find some.” The words crack. I barely manage to get them out. “We’ll mourn her properly.”
“At least we’re together still,” Gregor says, though the optimism is hollow. “What’s left of us.”
The words hang heavy with the weight of all we’ve lost. Bristara’s wisdom and guidance. Jura’s warm nature, her laughter that could fill a home. Arina’s spirit…
“How did you all manage to get into Halazar to break me out?” I ask, shifting the topic slightly so I don’t suffocate underneath it all. “And thank you, by the way.”
“You’re more than welcome,” Twino says. “As for the how…Kaelis came to us.”
“There’s a story there,” I prompt.
He chuckles softly. “We were planning to try to get to you. Thanks to Ravin’s parading you through the streets, we knew you’d been taken back to Halazar, and we knew we couldn’t leave you there…if you were still alive.”
“Glad you are, and it wasn’t all for nothing,” Ren adds.
“So we stole a boat,” Twino continues.
“Jura was confident she could navigate the currents in complete darkness. We were planning to go at the next new moon,” Gregor adds. “But the enforcers discovered the missing vessel faster than expected. They were on our trail, led by someone new.”
“Emilia,” I finish. The heir to Clan Tower being assigned a leadership role immediately upon graduation by the heir to the throne is fitting.
Ren nods. “We thought we were done for. We had nowhere to go, no safe haven. Then Kaelis showed up.”
“Thought he was going to be our demise. But…I was wrong. He was the one to save us.” Gregor does not sound pleased about this, despite it meaning he survived the whole ordeal.
“He protected us these past five days by helping keep the enforcers off us and not turning us in,” Twino adds, gentler than the rest. “Counts for something.”
My skin is still warm from the way Kaelis held me. His scent is still fresh. The gentleness of his voice fills my ears. He’s not what you think, I wish I could say to them. But I’m not quite sure they’re ready to hear me defending Kaelis.
“There’s something else,” Gregor says, mostly to Twino and Ren, in the wake of my silence. “The Worldkeepers are willing to let us take the oaths and join them…” He quickly recounts what happened with Vaduin.
There’s a long pause when he finishes. I regard Twino and Ren thoughtfully. Their expressions are vastly different at this news than Gregor’s was. Ren rubs his eyes. Twino shifts uncomfortably.
“We’re too tired to decide anything tonight,” I say with a note of finality. “Today has been—”
“Forever,” Ren finishes for me. “Today has felt like a fucking eternity. And you’re right, I’m exhausted.”
“We’ll reconvene about this tomorrow, after we’ve slept on it.” I glance to Gregor, making sure he won’t object. He doesn’t.
After a brief but satisfying dinner supplied by the Worldkeepers, we settle into our respective corners. Twino and Ren are by the lantern. Gregor by the door, instinctively keeping guard. There are some blankets, but cold stones are our pillows. Still, it’s somehow warmer than Halazar.
I return to Arina’s side, settling on the floor next to her pallet. We’re still here, my heart beats quietly. We’re not whole, not even close.
But we’re here.
Leaning against the wall, I watch her face as the lamplight slowly dies and search for any sign of the girl she used to be. Any hint that she might still be in there.
“I will keep you safe, no matter what it takes,” I vow one final time before sleep claims me.
Yet, even as I say the words, I wonder if it’s a promise I can keep. The world seems intent on tearing all I love from me. I’m not sure how many more losses I can survive.