The word lingers in the air, charged with a promise… but it strikes differently coming from Ben compared to when Xavier says it. With Ben it feels like a sturdy reassurance, the kind a brother would give his sister, full of camaraderie and familial love. But when Xavier says it, there’s a depth, a resonance that pulls at something within me, stirring emotions that are interwoven with romantic longing and profound connection.
Despite him being an asshole. Scratch that, apsychoticasshole.
The memory of his behavior toward Ben during the Trial rises to the forefront of my mind. Ben’s arms tighten around me when my body stiffens.
“What is it?” he asks quietly. “Did X do something to you?”
I pull back and sit up. “I’m mad about what he did to you.”
“Me?” When I nod, Ben wrinkles his forehead, his confusion evident. “He hasn’t done anything to me. Well, not lately anyway.”
“You were dying, and he started talking shit to you,” I hiss, keeping my voice low. “That was a dick move.”
Ben’s eyes light up with understanding. “It wasn’t what you think. I understand how it looked that way.”
His voice is so low I can barely hear him, but he still looks around as if someone could have entered the room without detection.
Maybe the Order’s listening.
Xavier is certainly suspicious. When I recall how they drugged the drinks at the ball, I can see why.
“Come here,” Ben says. He pulls me to him, cuddling me against his chest, his lips right beside my ear. “X was trying to give me a clue without making it obvious to the leaders watching.”
“What?”
“Shh, Lilah. Just listen.” Miraculously, his voice gets even quieter. “X figured out the antidote before I did, and he was trying to give me a hint.”
My irritation with Xavier begins to melt away as understanding dawns. “So the middle finger, the nose tap... that was his way of telling you?” I ask, my voice a mixture of disbelief and admiration.
Ben nods, his chin rubbing my head. “Exactly. He was trying to communicate that without anyone noticing. If someone caught on that he was helping me, it would’ve disqualified both of us, which is a death sentence. This isn’t the first time he’s saved my life.”
I take a moment to process this. Xavier’s actions, which had seemed so harsh and out of character at the moment, were actually a desperate attempt to communicate under the strict rules of the Trial. To keep Ben alive.
Why? Because they’re brothers-in-arms? Or did Xavier do that for me, knowing how much I love my foster brother?
“I... I didn’t realize,” I whisper. “From where I was standing, it just looked like he was being a raging, hemorrhoidal asshole.”
Ben laughs. “Heisthat, but deep down… he’s an assassin with a conscience.”
“I didn’t think that existed.”
“Me either, but I have to believe they do, or I’ll have lost whatever humanity I have left.”
We lapse into silence, and I find myself reassessing everything I assumed about Xavier. My feelings for him are tangled with both intense affection and frustration. His actions during the Trial had initially seemed cruel, a side of him I hadn’t seen before and didn’t understand.
Now, knowing the truth erases the anger that settled in my heart. His behavior was a necessary tactic and a reminder of thelengths he might go to, the sharp edges of his character shaped by the ruthless demands of the Order.
“After the Trials, will it get any easier for you?” I ask Ben.
“No, I don’t think it will. Once we’re crows, we’ll take on new responsibilities, not just within the Order but under the mantle of running our family’s empire. It’s the burden of our newfound rank. However, I hope I’ll learn to carry the added weight. In life, you have to find reasons to keep going, reasons that make all the sacrifices worthwhile.”
“What keeps you going?”
For a moment, Ben is silent. “You. That’s enough for me.”
His confession hangs between us, suspended in the air, held by raw emotion and longing. The vulnerability in his voice is something I’ve never heard before, at least not to this degree. It’s a confession that should be touching, but it has a knot of discomfort tightening in my stomach, making me ill.
I gently dislodge myself from his embrace to create a measure of space between us. Ben’s gaze searches mine, looking for a response, a reciprocation of feeling. The affection shining in his eyes comforts me, but the hope inside their depths pains me, knowing I don’t return his feelings.
