Chapter Ten #2
I wasn’t sure what to say. There was nothing I could say.
But I wouldn’t run from her grief. Not again.
So I slid in next to her on the bench and wrapped my arms around her.
She turned into my embrace and sobbed. I held onto her like I knew Darius would have, like I knew Cyrus would have, like Orson or Dionne might have.
And I tried not to think about how much she’d lost, how greatly she’d suffered.
More than anyone deserved. More than most could handle.
She cried for a while, and I let her. I kept my arms around her and became a solid wall of silent comfort, barely breathing as she grieved.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I eventually turned my gaze upward, toward the ceiling but, really, beyond. I blinked away my own tears as rage welled up within me.
Why? I wordlessly asked the Geist above with all my might, teeth clenched. Why her? Why anyone? If you’re so gracious, so immense, why should we have to suffer like this?
Don’t say that, Adrian, Dante chastised. You don’t know what you’re talking about.
Another door down the hall swung open, and Dante emerged. He paused when he spotted Dahlia in my arms.
Is she okay? He nodded in our direction.
As okay as she can be. What did you do back there? With the… kissing?
He chuckled.
It wasn’t kissing, he told me. It’s called resuscitation. It’s used to help someone breathe again. I was blowing air into his lungs, trying to keep oxygen in them and his heart beating until we could stabilize him.
I didn’t understand what half of those words meant.
But I caught the gist of it. And the gist of it was that Dante had saved Cyrus using some life-saving technique that he’d known because of his training as a First Ringer.
His status had saved Cyrus. If Dahlia had had the same training, maybe she could have breathed that air into his lungs sooner.
Maybe Cyrus wouldn’t be in a coma. But she didn’t know because she was a Third Ringer. Like me.
I see why you’re so disappointed to have a Third Ring partner, I told him, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone. Your life is in my hands and I might just be too poor or too stupid to know what to do with it.
Adrian—
Thank you. For whatever you did. You were more equipped to deal with what happened to Cyrus than we were.
Dante didn’t answer that, but I saw his frown from here. He didn’t take another step toward us, but I could feel his hesitation. And his mental fidgeting, despite his body remaining perfectly still.
What is it? I asked, somewhat impatiently.
We should go.
I glared at him over Dahlia’s head.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. There’s nothing more you can do for her, Adrian.
I shook my head in disbelief and looked away.
I can feel your fear, Dante continued, his internal voice barely a whisper against my mind. You forgot how dangerous these Trials were. You got complacent. You thought this was a game—
I know it’s not a game, I snapped.
He huffed. Adrian, if anything, this is a reminder. We need to train.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I made a conscious but futile effort to shut him out.
I’ll wait downstairs. He turned and left the hallway again.
“He’s telling you to go, isn’t he?” Dahlia’s voice came muffled from against my chest.
I closed my eyes and sighed before looking down at her. “How did you know?”
She sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes, and moved away as if embarrassed she’d ever needed the comfort in the first place. The distance carved a small hole in my chest where she’d rested a moment ago.
“You concentrate too much when you talk to him.” Dahlia looked away from me, toward the door that Cyrus lay beyond. “It isn’t easy for you yet. So I can tell when you’re doing it. But it won’t be that way forever. It’ll become second nature, eventually.”
I cringed. I didn’t necessarily want to get used to Dante living inside my head.
Dahlia cleared her throat and straightened, “He’s right. You should go.”
I wanted to argue, but one look at Dahlia’s newfound fortitude told me that my concern was no longer welcome. I sighed and stood. “If you need me, I will come.”
She gave me a curt nod, and I made my way down the hall toward the door Dante had vanished through.
Warren emerged from the other side of the hall, a sandwich and a glass of water in hand. We stopped next to each other.
“How is she?” he asked, voice low.
“Stay with her. She’ll tell you not to but…” I glanced back down the hall to where Dahlia sat, back rigid and eyes staring straight ahead. There was a heaviness in her brow, a sorrow in her expression that strangled my heart.
“I’ve got it.” Warren slapped me on the back before continuing his stroll.
Dahlia didn’t look up as he settled in next to her and offered her the sandwich, pleading with her to eat something. But after only a few murmured attempts, she accepted it.
I stepped out of the hallway and down the stairs to where Dante waited, sending out an exasperating warning along the way.
I’m coming.