Sword

by JC Andrijeski

  Feigran’s hands pulled nervously at the book, flipping pages.

  He passed more diagrams, scribbles, sketches. I saw him flip to another of those lifelike drawings. When he did, his hands stopped. Looking down at the image beneath his fingers, Feigran stared, as if he’d never seen it before.

  I turned my head, fighting to bring sense to the image, too. Making out the dark and light lines, I suddenly understood what I was seeing.

  My heart caught in my throat.

  I saw Garensche look at me in my periphery, and realized he’d seen the drawing, as well. He frowned at me, shifting his weight in his seat before he crossed his thick arms across his chest. I felt him wanting to ask, but he didn’t.

  I barely noticed.

  I stared at the image of Balidor and me on the open drawing pad. I recognized the cell-like room where I’d slept under the Old House in Seertown. Staring at the detailed lines, I could barely acknowledge them as real.

  Feigran hadn’t pulled any punches. We were both naked, and from the looks on our faces, not far from a pivotal moment, our limbs wrapped around one another. I saw a scar on Balidor’s upper arm I remembered, and the flaming mark of the Adhipan he wore like a badge on his left shoulder. My fingers clutched Balidor’s back and one of his arms, but it was the look on the Adhipan seer’s face that brought the sickness back in a wave.

  It was more than desire. He looked at me like he loved me.

  I stared at it, feeling ill.

  Then I was looking at Revik, seeing him frown down at the same image on the pad.

  He didn’t look shocked, or even surprised. I didn’t see anger in his eyes. Instead, he averted his gaze, wiping his face with the back of one hand.

  On the same hand, he wore my father’s ring.

  “Turn the page, brother,” he said to Feigran.

  He wouldn’t look at the drawing now.

  “I’m sorry, Nenzi. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Turn the page. Please, brother.”

  The seer pulled at the thick pages with his fingers. He grasped the one on top, turning it over so that the drawing wasn’t visible.

  “Thank you,” Revik said quietly.

  “I tried to help you,” he muttered. “I tried to convince her. She wasn’t ready, Nenzi. It’s not your fault. Not sister’s fault, either. Not enough time. Not enough time…”

  Revik nodded, but the other look didn’t leave his expression.

  I must have gotten too close with my light.

  Abruptly, Revik turned his head.

  He stared straight at us in the control room. The mask fell over his face, causing me to recede into the back of my chair.

  “Is someone there?” he said.

  Fear slammed at my chest. I looked at Garensche, saw him studying my face.

  Gesturing a negative with my hand, I asked him not to answer. Feeling my chest tighten at the doubt in his eyes, I mouthed the word “no” at him.

  He sighed. Giving me a grim look, he signaled that he had no choice.

  Realizing he was right, I tightened my jaw, nodding, embarrassed now that I’d even asked it of him. My eyes returned to the cell below, and now I felt sick for real.

  Garensche hit a button on the panel. “Your wife was curious, sir.”

  “Get her out of here,” he said.

  I didn’t hear anger in his voice. What vibrated his words felt like something else, closer to that same thing I’d seen in him in the car.

  “Sir… I apologize. I didn’t see the harm.”

  “Now, please.”

  I stood up before Garensche could answer him.

  Without a word, I walked to the organic door and waited. Garensche joined me after he’d heaved his bulk out of the padded chair. While he placed his palm on the panel to unlock the door, I looked back in spite of myself.

  Seeing Revik’s eyes still aimed towards the observation window, I felt that pain in my chest worsen.

  He was still staring up when I looked away.

  30

  FORGIVENESS

  I’D ALREADY DECIDED I wouldn’t go out that night.

  Before Feigran, I mean. Before I spied on Revik and made everything worse.

  I needed to regroup. I needed to just not think.

  I sat on the couch in my room before it was even dark out, gazing sightlessly through the glass at what should have been a jaw-dropping view to the cliffs and a wide snowmelt waterfall that cascaded down the opposite canyon wall. I watched the sun bleed over those same cliffs, turning the water orange and gold. I didn’t move as the time for dinner came and went.

  I knew some part of me was waiting for him.

  I wasn’t afraid of what he’d do, not anymore. I couldn’t really think about what I was afraid of, but I knew I wasn’t ready to see him. I could rationalize avoiding him, knowing that, but it didn’t make me feel any better about it.

  I sat on the leather couch that formed a long window seat, wrapping my arms around my knees as I stared through the glass.

  Everything hurt. Even my skin hurt.

  I didn’t move as the world darkened outside the organic pane, and the underground room along with it. I didn’t get up to turn on a light. I watched the moon rise up over the mountains on the other side of the canyon.

  I wondered again what I was doing here.

  Somewhere in that, I laid my head on the back of the couch.

  I must have fallen asleep.

  I JERKED AWAKE, fear jolting me––without direction, without information.

  Forcing my breathing to calm, I shifted on the couch, raising my head from the leather back and running a hand through my long, tangled hair. My legs had numbed where they folded under my body. Moving slowly, I stretched them out, wincing as the circulation returned to the joints.

  I glanced to my right then, and jumped.

  Pain rose in my light.

  I stared at his dark outline, tracing his profile with my eyes as my heart hammered in my chest. He didn’t look at me, didn’t seem to move. He sat on the opposite end of the dark leather couch, as far away from me as he could get without changing furniture. I watched his eyes as he gazed out over the same view I’d been looking at before.

  Following his stare through the transparent wall, I noted the moon was high now in the sky, reflecting on the blue-white waterfall, signaling at least a few hours had passed.

  I wondered how much of that time he’d been sitting there.

  When I turned next, he was watching me. His eyes glowed faintly, pale green in the dark, making the outline of his face more visible than it would have been in the moonlight alone. Remembering the boy, I felt my heart clench in my chest. He didn’t look like the boy, though. I didn’t see much similarity between them at all, not anymore.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything.” His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t going to, Allie.”

  I swallowed, unable to tear my eyes off his face.

  “Why not?” I said, as quiet as him.

  He rubbed his eyes. His fingers looked pale against the darkness of his shirt. I saw the ring he wore, flashing briefly as light reflected on the silver surface. Somehow, seeing that made my chest clench again. I tried not to think about the cabin, about everything that happened before D.C., but I couldn’t quite shove it from my mind, either.

  I wanted him to look different. I wanted him to be different. As I studied his face now, those differences collapsed, grew meaningless.

  “Allie,” he said. “Can I ask you… about this?”

  My chest tightened at the pain in his voice. His accent was stronger than I’d ever heard it. I had trouble even hearing the words as English.

  After the barest pause, I nodded, watching him stare back out over the canyon.

  “Yes,” I said.

  When he turned his head, I saw tears in his eyes and flinched, recoiling back, as much from the emotion I saw there as the tears themselves. I bit my lip as he wiped his face.

  I could feel it now. All aroun
d me.

  “When he shot you,” he said, clearing his throat. “When he put us… through that. Did he do it so the two of you could be together?”

  A harder pain rose in my gut, making it impossible to speak. I could only look at him, taking in his face and light as I realized where his mind had gone with this. Wiping my cheeks with my hands, I clenched my jaw, shaking my head, vehement.

  “No.”

  “Did you know he would do it? Shoot you?”

  “No.”

  I saw him frown. Watching him stare out the window, I swallowed. That pain in my gut grew unbearable, even as my light started to open.

  “Revik.” I fought to speak, forcing myself. “Revik, you can just read me, if—”

  “No.” He waved a hand, looking at me. “No, Allie. I don’t want to do that.”

  Realizing what he meant, I bit my tongue, hard enough to hurt. I wanted to tell him that wasn’t what I was saying, that I didn’t mean for him to read me for the sex, just the truth, but I couldn’t get the words out.

  “Was it revenge?” he said.

  “No,” I said.

  “Do you love him?” He turned, staring at me again.

  I saw the restraint there, the distance, but I only shook my head.

  “No.”

  Seeing Revik’s face harden, I felt my light grow hotter, twisting into itself. I wanted to reach for him, but I felt him holding me off with his light. The feeling was so tangible it was almost physical.

  “Revik,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  He didn’t look at me. I took another breath.

  “This might not matter to you…” Shaking my head, I clenched my jaw.

  It would matter to him. Of course it would fucking matter to him.

  “It was one night,” I said, blunt. “It was only one night.” I cleared my throat, fighting to breathe, that sick feeling in my gut sharpening. “I thought things were over with us. After Delhi. I thought we were done. So it was one night. It didn’t happen again.”

  He frowned. I watched him think about this.

  “One night,” he said.

  I nodded, wrapping my arms around my legs. “Yes.”

  “Not a single time after that?”

  “No.”

  “And?”

  I blinked, looking at him. “And what?”

  “Are you going to tell me why? What changed, Allie?” He looked at me.

  I flinched at the expression in his eyes. But I held his gaze. “What do you mean?”

  His jaw hardened. “He’s over 400 years old. He’s the head of the fucking Adhipan, Alyson. Given what he can do with his light, I’ll skip the preliminaries and assume the sex was good. Why only the one time?” He gestured with one hand, his voice cold, his accent still so thick I could barely understand him. “Why not more?”

  Fighting back my reaction to his words, I shrugged. “You mean why didn’t we do it again?” Feeling a faint tug of anger, I shook my head. “Jesus, Revik. I don’t know.”

  “Yes,” he said, looking at me. “You do. What was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Feeling his anger spark out, even muted by the shield, I clenched my jaw, fighting to think, to make sense of my own reactions. I didn’t want to answer his question, I realized. Some part of me resented him for even asking it.

  Still thinking, gazing sightlessly out the window, I shook my head. “It didn’t seem like a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “It just didn’t.”

  “Bullshit,” he growled. “Bullshit that it ‘just didn’t.’ You thought about this. I know you. You would have fucking thought about it, Allie. Tell me why, goddamn it.”

  I felt my jaw harden more. Without turning to look at him, I shook my head.

  “He’s my friend.” I stopped, still staring out at the dark sky.

  I found myself thinking about Balidor, but I didn’t want to do that, either.

  Exhaling, I said, “I knew he wanted me, but I didn’t let myself think about that much. He’s my friend.” A sharp swell of anger heated my chest. I wasn’t even sure which of them it was aimed at. “It was just…” Still thinking, I shook my head. “It was difficult with him. Harder than I thought. I thought it would just be sex, that I could see what it would be like, to just have sex with someone else. But it wasn’t, and I couldn’t deal with what it was.”

  Shaking my head again, I stared down at my hands.

  “I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t handle it.” Forcing myself silent, I clenched my jaw when he didn’t speak. “I couldn’t fucking handle it. So that’s why. It was my choice.”

  His whole body went deathly still.

  For a long moment, he seemed to be fighting to speak.

  Then pain flickered through his light. “Gods, Alyson.” That pain worsened. “You said you didn’t love him.” One hand rose to his head. I saw his fingers clench his hair. I felt him fighting to remain silent.

  I shook my head. “Revik. I don’t. I don’t love him. Not like—”

  “Fuck you.” His voice hitched, and for the first time, I heard what lay under it. For a long moment I didn’t move, watching as he fought to regain control over his light.

  Pain rippled through me again, until I could barely look at him. I couldn’t even tell whose it was. I felt the irrationality that came with it, the intensity in my own light.

  “Revik.” I shook my head. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

  “I won’t hurt you, Allie.”

  I turned, looking at him. “I wasn’t saying you would.”

  The silence deepened.

  I saw him struggling to control it again, and bit my tongue, fighting to remain where I was, to not touch him––or maybe to not hit him. Different parts of me wanted to do one or the other of those things, intensely enough that I couldn’t think as I watched him sit there. Or maybe the same parts of me wanted to do both of those things, one after the other, or in alternation. Either way, the urge grew as that pain in my gut worsened.

  He sat there, holding his head, unmoving as he dimmed and pulled back his light.

  “Was it the bond?” he said. “Is that what changed your mind? Being trapped with me?”

  My anger flared hotter. “Fuck you. Did the bond make you stop screwing Kat?”

  Flinching, he stared at me. “Do you love him?”

  “No!” I glared back at him. “I don’t love him, Revik… not like that.”

  “You just don’t love me.”

  Before I could think about what he’d said, my whole body hurt.

  “I do love you,” I said. The pain in my chest worsened, even as my anger deflated. “You’re the one who’s never loved me all that much, Revik.”

  As I said it, I realized some part of me believed it was true.

  More than that, some part of me blamed him. I blamed him, felt abandoned by him, in more ways than one. I blamed him for this. I blamed him for becoming Syrimne. I blamed him for D.C. I blamed him for running to Salinse instead of running to me. My mind somehow wove those things together in my head, making them one thing.

  I was clutching my own chest then, fighting to breathe.

  “I’m sorry.” I shook my head, tears coming to my eyes. “That’s not fair. I know that’s not fair.” I felt the truth of that, too, and it made the pain worse. “I’m sorry, Revik.”

  He only sat there. He shook his head while I watched, his jaw hard.

  “You wanted to hurt me,” he said. “Is that why you did it?”

  I frowned, staring out the window. I forced myself to think, to try and tell him the truth. “I don’t know. Maybe I did. Maybe I did want to hurt you.” I clenched my jaw, turning. “I told myself I didn’t. I told myself I only wanted to break things off with you… not to hurt you.”

  He gave a thick laugh.

  The anger in my chest rose. “I knew I’d made a mistake. Right after we did it, I knew.” Pain whited out my vision. My hands curled into fists. “I
can’t do casual sex. I never could.” My voice grew bitter. “I guess that’s one more area you’re a few steps ahead of me, husband.”

  Seeing Revik wince, gripping his hair tighter, I bit my lip.

  “Then you sent that letter,” I said.

  There was a silence.

  He let out a harsh laugh. He raised his head, looking back out the window.

  “That fucking letter,” he said. “Gaos. Both of you must have loved that.” He looked at me, his eyes shining coldly in the moonlight. “You wanted him to read it aloud. Was that just random cruelty, wife? Or was there a message there, too? Something I missed?”

  I clenched my hands, feeling my anger worsen. “I didn’t know what was in it! You had it delivered to our front door… like some kind of taunt! I didn’t know about the flowers. I hadn’t even seen them until Cass finished reading. I thought you were trying to manipulate me… I thought the whole thing was meant to be a threat.”

  “A threat?” he said, anger creeping into his voice. “You thought I’d be threatening you? You’re my wife, Allie.”

  “Yeah,” I said, glaring back at him. “And husbands have never been known to kill or threaten their wives.”

  “I’m not a fucking human!” he snapped. “I told you I’d never lay a hand on you. Did you think I was lying?”

  “I thought I’d just slept with someone else,” I said. “For the first time in our marriage. How the fuck was I supposed to know what you were going to do?”

  “I didn’t even know about that!”

  “I assumed you did.”

  “Why didn’t I know, Allie?” His eyes met mine and I flinched at the pain there, even as his jaw hardened. “Was that Balidor’s doing? Or did you do that to me, too? You couldn’t even include me in your goddamned infidelity? You had to shut me out of that, too?”

  I shook my head, fighting to control my light, and my voice. “I figured that was the reason for the letter. I assumed you were angry––”