"I have to—"
"I know."
He sets me down carefully, hands lingering on my waist until my legs remember how to work. Steps back. Runs a hand through his ruined hair, which only makes it worse.
"BOSS!" Finn's almost at the door.
"What?" Ruvan's voice comes out rough. He clears his throat, tries again. "What is it?"
Finn bursts in, thankfully too panicked to notice that we look like we've been doing exactly what we've been doing. "Tide Runners at the gate. But they're not attacking. They want to talk."
"Then kill them."
"They surrendered. Said they have a message." Finn glances at me. "For the light healer."
Oh. Well that's not ideal. My stomach does something unpleasant.
"They said what?" Ruvan's already moving, shadows coiling like angry snakes.
"They want to talk to her. Their leader wants to talk to her." Finn shifts nervously. "Gray Streak's holding them at the gate, but boss... they said to tell her it's Arthur."
The world goes very quiet. Like someone stuffed cotton in my ears.
"What?" The word comes out thin, impossible.
"Their leader. He said to tell the light healer it's Arthur. Said she'd understand."
My feet are moving without permission. Down the tower stairs—turn sideways, remember to turn sideways, ow, too late. Through hallways that blur together. Past guild members who are saying things that sound like they're underwater. Ruvan's following, calling my name maybe, but there's this roaring in my ears.
Arthur's dead.
Arthur died six years ago.
Arthur saved me and died and I've carried that weight like stones in my pockets every day since.
The front doors are open. Late afternoon sun streams in, still golden, still perfect, like it doesn't know this is impossible.Guild members crowd the entrance, weapons drawn but not attacking. I walk through them because my feet are still moving without permission and stopping seems complicated.
Down the path to the main gates where Gray Streak has several Tide Runners at sword point. My feet know where to go even though my brain's stopped working entirely.
One stands at the front. Shorter than the others. Familiar shoulders, held slightly forward like he's ready to either fight or help someone with their groceries. That same stance he had when he was twelve and thought he needed to protect me from boys at the market.
He turns when he hears footsteps.
Green eyes. Our mother's exact shade of green that changes with the light. Currently catching the afternoon sun and looking like sea glass.
"Livvy?" His voice cracks on the nickname only he ever used.
It's him. Not someone who looks like him, not someone pretending. It's Arthur. Older, thinner—when did he last eat a real meal?—with new scars across his jaw, but Arthur. His boots have holes. Someone needs to get him new boots. My baby brother who died for me except he didn't die because he's standing right there in Tide Runner blues which makes no sense because dead people don't join guilds.
"Arthur?"
Chapter 19
His boots have holes.
That's what my brain decides to focus on while staring at my dead brother who isn't dead. Two holes, actually—one near the left toe where I can see his sock (also holes), and another at the heel that's going to let in water when it rains. When did he last have dry feet? Does the Tide Runner guild not have a cobbler? What about healers? Criminal organizations should have healers, all that violence must cause injuries—
"Livvy?" Arthur says again, and that nickname hits hard. Nobody else ever called me that.
