Chapter 7 #3
“But?” asked Harald. “What happened? Did they have a falling out?” A protective instinct arose within him. If that smug bastard had hurt Nessa, or taken her for granted, or…
“No. I think… I think Nessa has trouble being happy?”
“Oh,” said Harald. “Right. Yes. Did she sabotage it?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know the details. And she obviously hasn’t shared. But three days ago, she showed up looking all haunted and miserable, and the only thing she said before locking herself in her room was, ‘the hawks have come home to roost’.”
“The hawks? Is that an expression I should know?”
Kársek considered his pipe. “You recall how she was without the Twilight Crown?”
“Yeah. That was hard. But she seemed to have overcome it since Celestara. Oh. She hadn’t?”
“We think she distracted herself,” said Sam.
“With all the fighting, then hating Rovarik, then the fun of… well. But after a few days of bliss, we think her… I don’t know what to call it, exactly.
Her problems? They must have reared their head.
And she hasn’t been back to training since.
Rovarik has come by asking for her, but she’s refused to talk to him. ”
Harald blinked. “Is she here? Now? In her room?”
“No,” said Sam. “These past two days she’s been going out for solitary walks.
She’s made it clear she doesn’t want company, and doesn’t want to talk about it, but she’s looked…
utterly miserable.” Sam grimaced. “I’ve been hoping you’d catch her, because you’ve always had a way with getting through to her, but you’ve been… ”
“I’ve been busy,” sighed Harald. “And even when I was here, I barely noticed anyone, anyway. Damn it.” He scrubbed at his face. “Well, is she out right now?”
“She is,” said Kársek. “But she returns each evening to eat alone in her room.”
“Right. I’ll speak with her.”
“Good.” Sam sighed and settled her shoulders.
“It’s been such a strange time. Half of it spent training under Seraphina, learning more about myself, the Fallen Angel, the Celestial War, how to better handle my own powers…
and half of it worrying about you and Nessa. I’ve felt like I was two people.”
“That should be drawing to an end. We’ve got to start fighting our way down to the 41st,” said Harald, glancing against his will at Exeros once more.
It was so easy to forget he was there, just listening in.
Well, fuck him. Harald wasn’t about to censure himself because a truculent child was tagging along. “But first Nessa.”
“First Nessa,” agreed Sam.
“Shame about Vic,” murmured Kársek. “He’d want to be here for Nessa.”
“But he left,” said Harald, and his voice was harsher than he’d intended. “I’m sure we’ll see him again one day. Hopefully soon. But for now? Fuck him.”
Sam frowned unhappily.
They remained silent for a spell, each sunk in their own thoughts, and then Sam roused herself. “Regardless. Hungry?”
Harald laughed. “Starving.”
* * *
Kársek had gone to his chambers. For a while Sam and Harald had remained alone on the settee, sharing their emotions and experiences from the past few days, fingers interlaced, enjoying just being close to each other, but Nessa’s pain felt like a physical weight between them, and having Exeros just floating in the chamber’s far corner put a pall on any desire to get closer.
So Sam eventually excused herself with a chaste kiss on his lips, and left Harald to await their delve captain.
Deep in his own thoughts and wrestling with exhaustion, Harald had almost fallen asleep in the chamber’s deepening gloom when one of the golden doors cracked open to admit a slender dark form.
Harald blinked and sat up, knowing immediately that it was Nessa from the way she moved, the subtle scent, the blue-black glimmer of her long hair.
“Nessa?” He rubbed at his face.
The shadow remained still by the door, and for a second he thought she’d simply step back out into the hallway and disappear.
But then she sighed, as if accepting the inevitability of this encounter, and closed the door quietly behind her. “Harald.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been absent. That I missed what was going on.”
“Don’t be. I…” She trailed off. Her voice was raw, a complex medley of unhappiness, sarcasm, and bleak despair. “I…”
He rose to his feet and, compelled by instinct, moved toward her as she entered the room. For a moment he thought he might embrace her, that she might need the hug, but her arms were tightly crossed, her face lowered, so he stopped a pace before her.
She seemed to be struggling with something, so he waited, watching her carefully, as if she were made of spun glass and might fracture and fall apart at any moment.
If she did, he was there to catch her.
But finally she looked up just enough that her eyes glimmered through her black tresses. “I’m sorry, Harald. But I can’t go with you to the 41st.”
“No?” His mind blanked. Her not joining them simply wasn’t a possibility. “What do you mean?”
“I…” She took a deep breath and then straightened. “I must return to Flutic. I must face my past.” Her words were burnished with steely intent and deep, ancient pain. “I must go home, Harald. I have to face my father.”