Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
The letters were fuel for the fire. He refused to read them; the pain and rage in his chest not letting him do anything that would even vaguely imply that Auster would ever be forgiven for what he’d done.
And Autumn didn’t push him; she simply brought the letters back from the villa and left them on the table for him to toss into the flames.
He knew she was sad, knew that Auster’s betrayal had broken something deep in her.
But he couldn’t manage to shed enough of the rage so that he could reach for her.
She never cried, never raged, simply went back and forth for the letters and to leave him food. She was still taking care of him, even when Boreus knew she was hurting.
It took him almost a month before he could shake the rage enough that he could actually look at Autumn. There was nothing in her eyes: no rage, no sorrow, no emotion at all.
“Autumn?” He reached for her, but she backed away. “Autumn, love, why?”
“Because I cannot fall apart.” She said in a shaking voice. “I am the only thing holding Eleni and me together. If I collapse, one of us is going to get hurt, and I cannot say with confidence that it would be me.”
“Why would you want it to be you?” He was confused, worried, the rage draining away to let him see clearly for the first time in weeks.
“Because I could survive,” she said faintly. “Eleni would not, and I cannot have her die. So I cannot afford to fall apart, not until she reaches some sort of stability.”
“What can I do?” He reached for her again, watching her skitter back. “Autumn, please?”
“I’m sorry, Boreus.” She turned and went to the door. “I will come back, I promise.”
“Where will you go?” He went to her side, but didn’t reach for her this time. “Will you be safe?”
“The Song watches out for me.” She said quietly. “I stay at the spring when I cannot be here.”
“Might I come visit?” Boreus asked, reaching for her hand. “I can bring you clothes if you need them.”
“I have everything I need at the spring.” She squeezed his hand and gave him a shaky smile that was completely at odds with her blank eyes. “I will call when I am stable again.”
He backed away, and she left, closing the door quietly behind her. But Boreus heard the click, and the sound cracked something inside him. He didn’t have enough left in him to be angry; she’d left him, and he didn’t know when he would see her again. If he ever would.
Auster had broken them. And Autumn was still trying to take care of them all. She’d left him to save him from watching a part of her die if she lost control of the braid. But he couldn’t. He had to be with her, even if she didn’t want him there.
Boreus waited until the sun had set, until the moon rose, and left the Bastion. He wasn’t going to sleep without her.
He went to the spring. Looking for her among the tumbled stones and the dust that was left from the roof falling in. When he found her, he went to his knees. She was curled up in a corner with nothing but a thin blanket, lying directly on the broken stone.
Boreus went back to the Bastion, collecting a much thicker blanket, a sleeping pad he had to ask the Unseen for, and a basket full of food. The rage might have prevented him from reaching for her, but now that it was gone, he remembered.
She hadn’t eaten in days and had stopped sleeping in their rooms. She’d been here, trying to hold on to herself while he was blind with anger over a betrayal that hadn’t even been aimed at him.
He was still angry with Auster. Didn’t see a way clear to forgiveness, but he had to help Autumn now, and that meant setting the anger aside as much as possible.
He set the things that he’d brought down next to her and knelt in the dust and broken stone to gather her into his arms. It woke her, but he’d been expecting it to.
“I brought you some things so we can be comfortable,” he whispered to her. “If we’re going to sleep here, we should at least try to be comfortable.”
“I can’t,” she struggled against his hold. “I can’t break, Boreus. I can’t see you, not right now.”
“You can break, Autumn,” he rocked her slowly. “You can break, you can feel, and I will hold you together while you cry.”
She looked up at him, golden eyes luminous in the spring’s darkness. “I can’t put it on you, not while you mourn.”
“We can be sad together.” He shifted, setting her down for a moment while he spread the sleeping pad and the thick blankets over the stone. “Come and rest with me.”
She cuddled down into his arms with a broken sigh. “I have to go pick up the letters before he wakes up.”
“Rest first, then we can go.”
He felt it when she fell asleep, when she went soft in his arms, and Boreus closed his eyes as well. Tomorrow, they would go and handle Auster. For tonight, he was going to hold the other half of his heart and try to rest.
The sun rose, as it always did, and Autumn woke to look at Boreus and give him a tiny smile. “Good morning, love.”
He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Autumn, I should have seen you sooner.”
“I forgive you,” she said the words gently. “I love you, so I forgive you.”
“You shouldn’t,” he smiled at her. “Your heart is too large, love; I perhaps don’t deserve to be forgiven so quickly.”
She teared up. “I can only be angry with one person at a time, Boreus. I don’t have anything left after that and holding us together.”
He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her tight to his body. “I’m here, Autumn, you can fall apart and I swear, I will guard you.”
Autumn collapsed. Boreus felt her shatter into bits as she finally cried. But they weren’t only her tears, it was Eleni’s too. Eleni, who had loved Auster better than the rest of them. Eleni, who had nearly lost everything and was now being forced to face the fact that Auster had tried to kill her.
Boreus just held her, rocking her slowly as she fell apart there in his arms. Knowing that in order for them to be solid again, they had to bleed off some of the mourning.
Autumn flickered back and forth from her to Eleni and back again with frightening intensity, the braid coming undone at the seams.
But Boreus refused to panic, creating threads with how he loved her and stitching the braid back together with them.
Holding on to her as the two of them tried their best to come back together.
The edges weren’t right; they were jagged with pain and betrayal, but they hadn’t come apart, and that would do for now.