Chapter 23 #3
“We can do something about it,” Zevrial argued, pushing himself back up to a standing position with a wince. “You’re inexperienced and untrained now.” I glowered. “But that’s not an insult.”
It sure feels like one.
“I can defend myself, well enough that there isn’t much risk of anything doing enough damage to kill me,” he continued.
“Yeah, you did a bang-up job defending yourself against whatever did that,” I gestured to the bandage beneath his shirt.
“That was,” he sighed. “…Unavoidable. And not something that came anywhere near killing me. You on the other hand…”
“So that’s how it is? You want me to wash out? Go find a tower somewhere to hide in so that I don’t become your vulnerability?”
“No. I was wrong to say you were giving up without trying. I didn’t know you were pushing yourself toward injury.”
That sounded dangerously close to an apology. I crossed my arms, listening.
“But being a Voyager, there are monstrous things we have to face that could undoubtedly kill us. Every day. The risks don’t go away because you hide.
I want you to become as strong as me. Stronger, even.
And if you can’t, then become more clever.
Someone who doesn’t need protecting, because she can protect herself. ”
My mind flashed to Orin, punching my lights out in the pouring rain. I clenched my teeth.
I hated that he was right. I hated that despite all the training I’d done, I was still one of the weakest trainees here. I could be taken out far too easily. My shoulders sagged as the wind left my sails. “What are you proposing I do about it?”
“You’re already doing it.” His voice brushed against me, low and smooth.
It made my heart flutter, even though I tried to hang onto my irritation.
“Keep training. But stop pushing yourself too hard. I’ll give you two Skinscripts that will help you, along with one of your choosing.
Pass the final and graduate, so you can earn another.
Don’t take reckless risks that could put both of us in danger.
Accept help when you’re struggling.” He shook his head.
“And for the love of all that is holy, get your stamina up high enough that your heart isn’t racing all the time. I’m drained almost every day.”
I scowled at him. But a pinprick of guilt settled in the back of my throat as I glanced at where I had accidentally ripped his stitches open. Had he been distracted or weakened because of my lack of stamina?
Guilt gnawed at me. The idea of him being injured because of my own weakness made something inside me churn. I had to become stronger, now for more than just myself.
I cared about him. It was a truth I had refused to acknowledge, but after every attempt he’d made to help me, and feeling the hazy lust when I'd seen his hidden glyphs, it wasn't something I could lie to myself about anymore.
Especially since I'd been the one to rip his stitches open, if not indirectly involved in the original injury.
The truth made something visceral twist and throb around my heart.
Zevrial was watching me in silence, patiently waiting for me to process everything he’d said and respond. Even with the lamp light’s soft caress, he looked tired, and a tinge of culpability shot through me.
“Okay,” I said at last, if only to break the silence and tension that stretched out between us.
“Okay,” he echoed back.
“Well, this has been...very unexpected,” I said to fill the quiet that was descending on us again.
There was an undercurrent of heat to it that made me uncomfortable.
Or maybe, it made me too comfortable. “But I think I've had enough training for one night.” I looked pointedly at where his injury was underneath his shirt. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Mhm,” Zevrial said, still watching me. “Nothing said here tonight can leave this room.”
There was a whole lot more going on between us than what had been said, but I didn't vocalize that. The quiet revelation I’d had and the rabid attraction he triggered came to mind. “It won't,” I said instead. Then, after a moment's pause, “Good night, Zevrial.”
I turned and fled.
“Good night, Lisia,” his luxuriant voice followed after me.
My mind was still spinning from everything I'd learned.
Zevrial’s hidden Skinscript sounded ripe for troublemaking. Trying to fathom what an immense mess someone like Henrik would get into with even one of those glyphs was terrifying.
It made sense that Zevrial remained nearly impervious during the many training sessions we'd had together. He wasn't just built like a fortress, he had an entire arsenal of Skinscript to use to his advantage. And they were probably protecting him from the fresh burden of sharing a glyph with me.
Several questions haunted me as I walked back. If he was weakened from my lack of experience, did that mean I was unknowingly benefitting from his? Did he care about me too, or was he just helping me to try to protect himself? Was he attracted to me too?
One question bothered me, long after I'd left the Brig and made it back to my room.
What caused the wound on Zevrial's thigh?