***
It was a coma.
Warren and I were with Dahlia when one of the green-robed priests came out of a windowless bedroom nestled in the midst of the House of Valin’s manor to tell her of Cyrus’s condition. Something about a lack of air flowing to his brain. He now lived in a state of oblivion. His body was there, but his mind wasn’t. It could be anywhere. And wherever it was, it was no longer sending signals to the rest of him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even open his eyes.
I thought I’d seen the worst of it when Dahlia found out about Darius. This…it wasn’t worse, but it was still a crushing blow. She fell back onto the seat outside of Cyrus’s room, placed her head in her hands, and rocked back and forth.
Warren and I exchanged a glance, then my brother stood.
“I’m going to get you something to eat,” he said gently. She started to argue, but he cut her off. “It’s been hours, Dahlia.”
She fell silent and returned to rocking.
“Do you want to see him?” I asked carefully.
“His parents are in there now.”
I looked at the door behind me, the one that hadn’t opened for hours except for the priest who’d just informed us of Cyrus’s status. Had his parents been in there with him all this time?
“How do you…” I trailed off.
Dahlia looked up, into my eyes, and the endless chasm of sadness in her gaze choked my soul.
I closed my eyes and took a breath.
“He told you,” I said simply.
She didn’t respond but merely put her head back down and continued rocking. Did the movement bring her comfort, like a baby cradled in their mother’s arms? Or was she just barely restraining the urge to clasp her hands over her ears and scream?
“He’s scared,” she whispered, and I heard it in her voice: he wasn’t the only one. “He doesn’t blame me. But he should. It was my fault. It—” She couldn’t say more, and we both knew it. Dahlia frowned and stared at the floor. “Adrian, I—” her voice broke as fresh tears welled in the corners of her red eyes. “I loved him.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. There was nothing Icouldsay. But I wouldn’t run from her grief. Not again. So I slid in next to her on the bench and wrapped my arms around her. She turned into my embrace and sobbed. I held onto her like I knew Darius would have, like I knew Cyrus would have, like Orson or Dionne might have. And I tried not to think about how much she’d lost, how greatly she’d suffered. More than anyone deserved. More than most could handle.
She cried for a while, and I let her. I kept my arms around her and became a solid wall of silent comfort, barely breathing as she grieved.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I eventually turned my gaze upward, toward the ceiling but, really, beyond. I blinked away my own tears as rage welled up within me.
Why?I wordlessly asked the Geist above with all my might, teeth clenched.Why her? Why anyone? If you’re so gracious, so immense, why should we have to suffer like this?
Don’t say that, Adrian,Dante chastised.You don’t know what you’re talking about.
Another door down the hall swung open, and Dante emerged. He paused when he spotted Dahlia in my arms.
Is she okay?He nodded in our direction.
As okay as she can be.What did you do back there? With the… kissing?
He chuckled.
It wasn’t kissing,he told me.It’s called resuscitation. It’s used to help someone breathe again. I was blowing air into hislungs, trying to keep oxygen in them and his heart beating until we could stabilize him.
I didn’t understand what half of those words meant. But I caught the gist of it. And the gist of it was that Dante had saved Cyrus using some life-saving technique that he’d known because of his training as a First Ringer. His status had saved Cyrus. If Dahlia had had the same training, maybe she could have breathed that air into his lungs sooner. Maybe Cyrus wouldn’t be in a coma. But she didn’t know because she was a Third Ringer. Like me.
I see why you’re so disappointed to have a Third Ring partner,I told him, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone.Your life is in my hands and I might just be too poor or too stupid to know what to do with it.
Adrian—
Thank you. For whatever you did. You were more equipped to deal with what happened to Cyrus than we were.
