Chapter 19
He drifted in a sea of stars.
Water lapped gently around him, a mirror reflecting a sky that went on forever, cast in perpetual twilight. There was no heat or cold, no up or down.
Only blessed oblivion.
He didn’t even remember his own name.
But something ached inside his chest, like a hook lodged there that someone was trying to reel in. Part of him wanted to see where the line led, but another part–a tired and lazy part–wanted to stay right here. He closed his eyes, willing the feeling away unsuccessfully.
When he opened them, the sky looked back.
A face smiled at him. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen her before. She was darkness herself, adorned by the heavens, but her eyes were gentle.
She reached out a hand and touched his forehead with a finger that sparkled like a diamond.
Follow your heart home.
The hook jerked, dragging him beneath the surface in a hungry embrace. He tried to scream, but water poured down his throat. Gods, his chest hurt so badly.
He drowned.
And sat up with a gasp.
Morning light fell through the window over the desk. The room crackled with the warmth of a fire. He took a ragged breath, but it only intensified the pull in his ribcage.
“Bastion?” a small voice asked.
He turned and found a set of eyes framed by wispy, sand-colored hair staring at him.
“Rowan?” The word felt sticky in Bastion’s mouth.
The boy's expression screwed up, and the next moment, a waterfall of tears cascaded down his cheeks. He launched onto the bed, flattening Bastion. He returned Rowan's embrace, the tightness of his hold only tempered by the shadow of pain in his gut and arm.
“I thought you were dead!” the boy blubbered. “Again!”
Something between a groan and a chuckle escaped Bastion, but there was no mirth in it. “I told you I’m hard to kill.”
Rowan pressed his wet face into Bastion’s chest. “But now that Da’s gone–”
Bastion sat up with a grimace and took Rowan’s face in his hands. “Who told you about your da?”
“Ulla.” Rowan’s lip quivered. At her name, Bastion’s heart skipped a beat, as if trying to leap out of its cage. “She told me he’s a hero.”
“He is,” Bastion whispered. “He was so brave. And you’re just like him.”
More tears collected along Rowan’s lashes, and his chin scrunched up. Bastion swept the boy's hair back and, for the first time, saw the shadow of a bruise near Rowan’s temple.
“Who did this to you?”
“One of the pirates,” a new voice said.
Bastion’s hands scrabbled for a weapon while his eyes struggled to pinpoint a threat. At the door, he spotted Nesrin, and he relaxed. She was alone and dressed down, in only breeches and a loose shirt. She smiled and tilted her head towards the boy. “If not for him, Minato would probably be dead.”
Bastion shifted in the bed and winced. A vague recollection of cool, clawed hands on his abdomen flickered through his mind, accompanied by frenetic feelings mixing with blood.
He touched the place where Buck had run him through and flexed the arm he’d broken.
A question drummed against the back of his lips, but he forced himself to ask a different one.
“What happened?”
Nesrin’s eyes dropped to Rowan. He hunched on the bed, tears still freely flowing.
“Rowan,” she said quietly, “why don’t you run downstairs and tell Mistress Rose that Bastion is awake?” Bastion’s stomach growled. “And hungry.”
The boy started to shake his head. Bastion touched his shoulder. “I’ll be right here when you get back. I promise.”
He wanted nothing more than to vault out of bed and follow the pull in his chest, despite not knowing what he’d find at the other end. But for Rowan, he would wait a little longer.
Bastion’s stomach growled again, a long, gurgling rumble. Rowan gave it an accusatory glare before he climbed out of bed and slouched towards the door. He paused on the threshold, as if Bastion might disappear before his very eyes. Then, he was gone.
Nesrin turned back to him, and Bastion tensed. Dreamy fragments swirled in his mind like dandelion fluff, but he remembered one thing very clearly.
She knew. Everyone knew.
“Nesrin, let me expl–”
She shook her head, and he bit back the rest. “What kind of person would I be if I allowed one secret to shake our friendship? Especially,” she paused, “one that has no bearing on your character or your loyalties.”
“But I lied to you,” Bastion said.
“Did you?” Nesrin responded. “I don’t recall ever asking if you were part Yvri.”
Nesrin sank onto the bed, propping herself up on one elbow. There was a fierce energy about her, like a lioness sated. The normalcy of that assuaged his worries. She was herself, and his secret hadn’t changed her feelings towards him.
Then she asked a question that made every muscle in his body coil with anxiety.
“Does Endre know?”
Bastion sighed and shook his head.
“Good,” Nesrin said. “For once, I’m the first.”
She grinned, and a little bit of his tension unraveled. It was easier to think Endre would be upset over finding out after everyone else than to imagine his actual reaction to the revelation.
“Speaking of firsts,” Bastion said, “how was your first battle?”
“Bloody,” she responded, direct and concise as ever.
She reached out and plucked at a stray thread curling up from the bedspread.
Bastion waited, remembering how hard it had been to talk about the first time he’d killed a man.
No amount of theory had prepared him, and he was fortunate that Hanniel had been there to comfort Bastion in his own gruff way.
He hoped he wasn’t the first person Nesrin had talked to about it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he was.
When she finally spoke, Bastion held his breath.
“There was a man standing over me when I woke up. He was unbuckling his belt.” Her eyes met his for half a heartbeat before she went back to worrying the thread.
“He hadn’t bothered to move my great sword.
I didn’t even think. I just swung. I heard his bones break, saw the terror in his eyes.
I killed him with his pants down. There wasn’t time to think after that. ”
Bastion shuddered. Not just because of the near miss, but because every fight he’d been in felt like that. A rush of emotions and adrenaline that spun him higher and higher. Everything happened in a blur.
“It hit me that this was my home they were attacking. My people, caught in the crosshairs of whatever these men were after. We hadn’t done anything to invite this.
” She sat up and leaned against the corner bedpost, rubbing her neck in a rare show of emotion.
“Cutting them down, watching their eyes go dark… it was exhilarating to have that kind of power. To know I held their lives in my hands.”
“And after?” Bastion asked, his voice low. Because he knew what came next.
“Lawrence found me convulsing in a stairwell.” Nesrin gave a forced smile. “I felt shame for those earlier feelings, for reveling in their deaths. There’s no glory in taking so many lives.”
“We both know neither of us is in it for the glory,” Bastion said.
Nesrin nodded. The way she pinched the folds of her trousers matched the crinkle between her brows.
“Hey,” Bastion breathed. He put his hand on hers and squeezed. When she looked up, her eyes were glassy. “The path we’ve chosen isn’t easy, but there is no shame in defending your home.”
She nodded and turned her hand over to squeeze his. A little pang of sadness went through Bastion as her calluses brushed against his. Then, she withdrew, wiped her eyes, and said, “Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one who got impaled.”
A choked laugh forced its way out of Bastion’s chest.
“Rowan’s been worried sick about you,” she said, drawing him back to the present.
“We all have.” Her eyes roamed over his bandaged chest and arm.
It was quite the opposite of the way Ulla’s gaze had burned into him last time he’d been in this room.
“Do you really want to know what happened, or do you want to go find her first?”
Heat flooded Bastion’s face. “Am I that obvious?”
Nesrin smirked. “You’re practically crawling out of your skin.”
“Tell me what happened,” he replied and swung his feet to the floor. The movement made him dizzy, and his stomach bucked with nausea.
“Two ships arrived at dawn,” Nesrin said. “When my father received my raven, he sent several of his own, requesting aid from the nearest vessels. There was a weather mage on board one, which is the only reason they got here in time. They captured one of the pirate ships before it could flee.”
“Only one?” Bastion asked. “Did it have the weapon on board?” He picked up a silver pitcher on the bedside table, his hand shaking as he poured himself a glass of water.
Nesrin shook her head as he drank. “No. We found the usual bounty and a bunch of unwashed men, who now sit in our prison. My father intends to bring them to Tynamara.”
“Your father has arrived?” Bastion exclaimed, breathless. He filled the cup again and lifted it to his lips.
“My father arrived two days ago, and–”
Bastion spat the water out. “Two days ago! How long have I been out?”
He clutched his aching rib, and Nesrin gave him an incredulous look. “A week. You almost died.”
Bastion stared at her. A week. It had felt like mere moments in that dark, starry place.
“And Ulla?” Bastion swallowed nervously.
“She’s stayed quite close to the keep," Nesrin said. "Except in the evening, when she goes down to the sea. She avoids the dining hall and has kept her focus on the injured… and you.”
__________
Rowan returned, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he balanced a tray loaded with food.
Behind him, a tall, stern woman followed, two pitchers in her hands.
She traded the smaller one for the now-empty pitcher on the table and dumped the larger into a basin on the desk.
Then, she scraped her gaze over Bastion as if he were little more than a dust bunny, bowed to Nesrin with a murmured, “Milady,” and left.