I brace myself for digging into the fresh wound, but he asks. “How was the message?”
A rush of gratitude wells up, warm and unstoppable, pressing against my chest until I have to speak.
“Strange,” I say, unable to hold it in, the experience burning through me. “Overwhelming, beautiful… I felt the whole forest.”
“It’s your first real step as the High Queen. I am proud of you.” Bane’s voice is as gentle as his subtle smile. With the wings, he looks like a guardian of Gorok’s garden; celestial, pure, kind.
“It meant more to me than I thought it would,” I say, through a clogged throat.
“Have they replied?”
“No, they were assessing. I could feel them observing me, judging me. I tried to do my best.” The last sentence comes out softer than I intended.
“You did.” Bane touches my shoulder. “I get why you ran away. I lost my family too. I drank myself to sleep most days, fuckedeverythingwith a pulse. I still flinch when I remember some of them. The elders almost banished me from the village.” He looks at his General, who is listening from his bedroll. “Riven dragged me to the outpost by my wings. He saved my life.” The gentleness in his voice breaks my heart.
I squeeze his hand, and he returns the gesture.
“I am so sorry for your loss.” I hate those words, but nothing else seems appropriate.
“I am sorry for yours,” he replies, and despite my struggle to contain it, one treacherous tear escapes my eye. He sees it and offers me the tiniest of smiles.
“It gets better, I promise.”
I nod. I believe him.
“Time has a quality, no other magic has.” He studies me before saying, “And friends”.
I understand what he insinuates, but is he right? Do I have friends? I don’t dare to let myself accept that possibility. Being wrong, when I let myself count on it to be true, will rip my heart out. I won’t lose another loved one. I am too weak to survive it.
“You will accept it with time,” he says, as if he could read my mind like Aidon.
In reply, I keep holding his hand and we stay like that for a while.
The night is filled with stories about our lost families. Before I blink, I find myself opening up about some parts of my past. I shut down after they… passed.
Whenever I bring them up, a conviction that I disrespect them sinks deeper into my soul. But I speak anyway, the lid on the memories is ripped off, and I don’t shut my mouth for a while.
I feel I have no claim to the memory of my family, but Bane’s presence helps me fight the guilt.
Bane is just as open. He speaks of his loving mother and brothers who could never be serious. He tells about the war and what came next. How Riven took him under his wing. He shared a story of his brother Lane, who brought a whore to the barracks and paid her to say he impregnated her while drunk.
“What? How long did you believe her?” I laugh, my cheeks hurting.
“Weeks,” he replies, distant yet soft, lost in the memory.
Nulok comes to the campfire, asking the question: “Do you love the moment when you’re taking a shit and there’s no more paper and you need to call for a friend and they always answer?”
“Yes! The only time no one will leave you hanging!” Bane roars with laughter.
Jestin, who is sitting on my left, is not as close as he would be if we didn’t fight, but close enough that he’s able to nudge me with his shoulder. “You should tell the story about the incubus.”
I jerk my head left. “If you try to talk about it, I will cut your tongue and eat it for supper.” The laughter in my voice softens the threat.
He sees the olive branch for what it truly is, nodding as a few sandy-brown strands fall across his forehead.
“It was your first. Don’t you think it deserves a tale?” A playful smirk tugs at his lips.
I pinch the traitor’s arm. “How dare you?”
