Chapter 27 The Confession
I wake in the morning with the sense that something is missing.
The fluffy whiteness of the bedcovers are smothering around me, and bright daylight filters into the infirmary from a shaft carved into the ceiling towards the back of the room.
Light is carried down the shaft by a system of mirrors inlaid in the wall, similar to those I saw yesterday in other parts of the Trove.
My head aches faintly, my tongue dry and cleaving to the roof of my mouth.
But none of that seems half so important as the vague and indefinable sense I have of something gone.
I sit up quickly, and then wince as my head rebels, throbbing dully, and the room spins around me.
I grab my head in my hands to steady it as I look around.
In a bed to my left, I can see Vakhrin still sleeping peacefully.
Hamish gave him a sedative yesterday to keep him knocked out while he set his bones.
There's a cast around his leg peeking out of the bedsheets, and there are creamy linen bandages wrapped heavily around his abdomen.
His bruising has already gone down considerably.
I glance around the rest of the room, but it's deserted.
No other patients. No Hamish. No Cherry.
No Marton.
My heart lurches in my chest, panic setting in as I can't resist thinking the words, He's gone.
But I calm a moment later.
His smell is recent in the room, more recent even than Cherry's.
And...I have a sense, one that I can't quite explain.
It's almost like a memory. Of arms around me and Marton's voice, promising to stay.
A dream, I'm sure, but it comforts me enough that I'm able to reason.
He wouldn't have left us without saying goodbye.
Wherever he and Cherry, I'm sure it's no cause for worry.
All the same, I think I'll go look for them.
Right now.
I get out of bed, finding a set of clothing that has been left for me.
They obviously belong to the Trove, judging by the aged quality of the fabric, like it's been resewn from scavenged material and not made new.
And judging by the size, the utilitarian tunic and pants belong to Araine.
I dress quickly and am getting ready to slip out the door when Vakh stirs and mutters.
I hurry back to his side, anxious for him.
"Vakh?" I whisper.
He doesn't respond, but his face contorts and he groans under his breath.
He lifts his head an inch, eyes barely opening, before he flops back down again.
"Cherry?" he mumbles.
"No, Vakh, it's me." I draw closer to the head of the bed.
"It's Tarah."
"Tarah.
" The word is a distracted murmur, and then Vakh's eyes flash open.
There's a red splotch in the white of one iris where a blood vessel has burst, but his eyes focus on me after a bleary moment.
"Tarah?" His voice is firmer, and he hoists himself up on one elbow, grimacing.
"Where's Cherry? What's happened? The wyverns—"
"It's alright.
We're fine. Everyone's safe." I feel like I ought to pat his shoulder or give him some sort of physical comfort, but I'm wary both of his injuries and my own awkwardness.
"Marton and I located the Trove and came here to rescue you.
Here we had help from Araine and Hamish and some of the others.
" I make myself say the rest as cheerfully as I can.
"Inobar and Besana are dead, and Edythe and the rest of their lot have fled.
We're all safe now, and you and Cherry are free.
"
It takes a while before the panic leaves Vakh's gaze, and even longer before he seems to accept what I've said.
He collapses back against the pillows, loosing a magnificent sigh.
His eyes find me again. "We're really safe?
You trust these dragons?"
"I do.
" I should probably elaborate. "Araine..
.Araine and I, well, it seems that we have a lot in common.
A father, for one. I trust her intentions regarding us.
"
Vakh's eyebrows wing up his forehead, but one look at my face keeps him from asking any follow up questions.
I go on. "Cherry is safe, and no one's going to put you in the arena again.
We're free to leave whenever we want. Or to stay.
"
Vakh's expression darkens, something hunted and bleak in his eyes for a moment, and I feel a knot in my throat.
That darkness is there in his eyes because of me, I know.
Everything he suffered was because I drug him into my problems.
It's the same thing I did to Marton.
Cherry and I should have taken on our journey alone, like we'd always done.
I was selfish and foolish to involve innocent people in our mess.
"Vakh," my voice cracks.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about what happened to you, and to Cherry.
I should have never— I should have done better.
Fought harder. I should have never asked you to help us in the first place.
"
My eyes blur with tears, so it takes a long stretch of silence and several frantic blinks for me to realize that Vakh is giving me a rather unimpressed glare.
"Tarah," he grouses, "shut up.
"
"I—" I blink a few more times, startled.
He must be very angry with me. "I know apologizing isn't enough—" I try.
Vakhrin cuts me off by hastily sitting up, one hand pressed to his ribs as he grits his teeth in pain.
But his eyes are livid where they fix on me.
"Gods damn your apologies. I don't want them.
What the hell do you mean by trying to make this about you?
" I open my mouth, shocked, but Vakhrin barrels on.
"The wyverns did this to us. To me. You and I both did all we could to stop them, in the valley.
It wasn't enough. They were older and stronger, and there were more of them than us.
So we kept doing all we could. Me, here, in the Trove, fighting to stay alive and protect your princess.
And you, out there, looking for us, trying to save us.
We did all we could, and apparently it was enough.
Now you tell me we've won, that we're safe, and that we're evidently in a nest of trustworthy dragons.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that the goal all along?
Isn't this exactly what we wanted?"
I'm speechless for a moment, unable to comprehend this very different take on our situation.
That he isn't bitterly angry with me over what he's gone through.
That he's still committed to helping us.
We've won, he said. But I don't feel like I've won anything.
I feel like things are even more dire now than they were before the wyverns showed up in the valley.
But Vakhrin doesn't know that, I realize.
He doesn't know about the basilisks and about the king, about the way our quest was a blunder from the start.
He doesn't know that he suffered for nothing.
"Vakh—"
Just then, the door the infirmary creaks open, and I smell familiar human and hear a feminine gasp.
"You're awake!" cries Cherry, footsteps flying across the room.
I half turn towards her, stepping away from Vakhrin so that Cherry can greet him, but as she draws near, she flings herself into my arms, tucking her head against my shoulder like the small child she isn't. Startled, I pat her on the back, and Cherry speaks.
"I feel like I've barely gotten the chance to see you since you got here.
Everything's been happening so quickly, and then you were hiding out with Araine and the other Dragomira last night.
Marton and I waited for you to come back, but you never did, and then he went to look for you.
I wanted to talk. He told me about the basilisks and the king and everything, and I wanted to talk to you.
.." She trails off as I pull back, holding her at arm's length.
Before I can speak, to voice my concern, her eyes flit to Vakhrin sitting up in bed.
Blue eyes widen with delight.
"Vakh!
" She flings herself to his bedside. She hugs him gently around the shoulders, avoiding all his injuries, and Vakh's eyes soften as he looks at her.
"I'm so glad you're up again," she enthuses as she pulls away.
"Hamish said it wasn't so bad this time, but you know I can't help but worry.
"
"I know." Vakhrin is smiling faintly as he regards Cherry, and I stare mutely at the two of them.
Dumfounded by the way their relationship has changed over the weeks since I last saw them.
Cherry fretting and gushing over him.
Vakhrin smiling indulgently at her.
It's a long way from the spoiled princess and grumpy manticore routine from before they were taken by the wyverns.
I suppose it's natural, after all they've been through, that things would have changed between them.
But I still feel a little...jealous.
It certainly isn't a healthy emotion, and I know Marton would tell me so.
But Cherry is supposed to be mine. I'm supposed to be the only one who understands her.
The one who can put up with her selfishness and her attitude.
And Cherry is supposed to be full of selfishness and attitude.
She isn't supposed to look at Vakh with warmth and concern.
Selfless concern. She isn't supposed to be taking care of him, and he isn't supposed to be appreciating her.
This makes me feel ill, and I know I'm being horrid and unfair, but I can't seem to help it.
"Cherry," I say, drawing her attention back to me.
"Can I speak to you alone for a minute?"
"Oh, but Marton will be here soon.
He's bringing food for you and Vakh, and then we were going to talk about—"
"This will just take a second," I promise.
"I just want to— I just want to talk to you alone.
" I want to make sure you're still the same person you were when I lost you.
That you're still my best friend.
Cherry considers me for a few moments before she nods.
She mutters to Vakhrin about being back soon and follows me toward the door.
It opens as we near it, and Marton is framed in the doorway, an overflowing plate in one hand—my stomach rumbles with interest—and a surprised look on his face.
His gaze goes right to me, and he seems to feel and think a thousand conflicting things before he gives me a pleasant smile.
"Good morning—"
"Cherry and I were just stepping out for a bit," I say quickly, a little too sharply, and then I'm skirting around him, towing Cherry behind me out the door.
I pull her all the way down the corridor and around a bend before she starts to complain. I release her immediately, swinging around to face her, and Cherry regards me with concern. "You're being very strange."
"Am not," I say automatically. I snap it, really, and then I cringe because I don't usually snap her.
Because she hates it.
"Mm-hm.
" Cherry looks pointedly at me, but she doesn't seem offended.
"It's nothing," I say, smoothing my tangled hair out of my face with one hand.
"It's just— I'm— It's nothing."
Everything feels off between us.
Like we aren't quite inhabiting the roles we're used to.
And I don't remember how to be the way I was, not when Cherry is acting so different.
She doesn't seem to be playing the princess today.
It frightens me.
"Cherry, are you alright?
Are you really, really okay? I know so much has happened, and you've been through so many awful things.
So please tell me if you're hurting, or if you're angry, or if you need anything.
I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry I let them take you.
I didn't mean for any of this to happen, and I just want to fix it.
I shouldn't have avoided you last night, but it wasn't because of you.
I—" I break off, horrified by what I've said.
It wasn't because of you.
Everything I've done has always been about her.
It's an unspoken rule between us.
But instead of looking hurt or upset, Cherry's face softens.
She reaches out and takes my hand. "I'm alright, really.
" She takes a quick breath inward, and emotion swims in her eyes.
"It has been scary, and awful, and hard, but I—I wasn't alone.
And I learned—I learned so much about myself, Tarah.
About the world and my place in it. I'm immensely grateful for that.
"
"What do you mean?
" I'm half afraid of her answer. Has she learned she doesn't need me after all?
Cherry releases my hand, and her gaze travels down the hall.
The residential part of the Trove is busier in the daytime, and surprisingly brightly lit by narrow shafts carved all along the ceiling to let in light from outside.
"I— You know," says Cherry thoughtfully, "I've always thought of myself one way before.
As the Princess of Ithyma. It wasn't a title I ever had to earn, or to think about too closely.
It was just mine. Just who I was. And it meant that our entire nation and everyone in it was meant to belong to me.
To adore me, and give me everything I wanted.
Even when things went bad, and all the silk dresses and the palaces disappeared from me, I still thought of myself like that.
As someone who deserved everything.
And you," she looks at me, smiling fondly, though her eyes are clouded, "you let me keep thinking it.
You made that title real for me, when I didn't have anything else.
The word princess was the only thing holding me together, and you were the only person holding me up.
And I never realized that before." Cherry's voice drops to a whisper, her eyes misty.
"And then I came here. To the Trove. And I realized how little that title meant.
"
"Cherry," I speak in a tight voice, trying to interrupt, but she shakes her head at me.
"Princess is just a word, you know, without anyone to make it mean something.
And here in the Trove I was treated as worse than dirt.
Hissed at and spit on, pinched and prodded.
Given rags to wear and gruel to eat. Made to watch—" her voice cracks, "to watch what they did to Vakhrin, in the arena.
What they did to him as punishment for me.
And I didn't even know why they hated me until last night, when Marton explained it, but that's not the point.
" Cherry takes a deep breath, drawing herself up.
"The point is I realized that I'm nothing, Tarah.
I'm no one, and I haven't done anything to deserve respect, or praise.
I like to think I haven't done anything really bad enough to deserve revulsion, either, but I know I haven't been fair to you.
Or to anyone else. I know I haven't been good.
It wasn't all my fault, maybe, because I was a spoiled child of eight the last time I had reason to think about what it meant to be a princess.
And what it meant then was fancy dresses and pet ponies and shiny toys.
It meant everyone smiling and bowing and telling me how beautiful and charming I was.
And so that's what I always thought it should mean, what I thought that I deserved.
And skies above, you tried so hard to give me everything I wanted!
You put up with so much you never should have had to, just trying to make me happy and keep me alive.
"
I interrupt again, heart hurting, "I was only—"
"No, please," Cherry puts up a hand.
"Let me finish . . . .So it was like that, for me, for a long time.
Until I came here. And it was a combination of things, here, that made me realize the truth.
A little bit of it was just being without you, having no one who thought very highly of me around.
And then it was Vakhrin, seeing him suffer because of me.
That reminded me of you, too. The way you had always fought for me, and even though you never got hurt—physically—the way that he did, I thought I saw something in his eyes—after each time he had recovered enough from the arena battles to sit up and look around again—something that reminded me of you.
It was something sort of...devastating, and haunted.
Only I never recognized it on you before—after you had to kill any of the human men who came after us in the tower—because you were never physically hurt.
I thought you were just tired, or in a bad mood, but Vakhrin told me how awful it was, being hunted and attacked.
How awful it was being forced into violence to save his own life, and the way it.
..beat him up on the inside, not just the outside.
And I thought about you. That that must have been the way you felt, all those years.
Always fighting my battles for me. Always being hunted and attacked, in my place.
Just like Vakh was." Tears are streaming steadily down Cherry's face by this point, and I finally can't take it anymore.
I step forward, putting my arms around her, and Cherry sobs into my hair for the briefest second.