Maybe James was right about needing time.
“I need to look at your side,” James said.
“No.” Nate squirmed. “Later. Let me go.”
James and Ivy exchanged a look.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Reed said from the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll bring him back to you when. . .when he’s done.”
Nate reached out, and Reed shook his head ruefully, surveying the mess of Nate’s bandaged hands. He and Brick had come out of the fight with scrapes and bruises, but neither had been hurt badly—because James had opened the front door to a mob of neighbors who’d dragged Agatha’s men into the street and beaten them to death.
“It appears people still respect Servants of the Old Gods,” Ivy had said with a tired smile.
Reed took him by the elbows and helped him up. “Looks like you’ll be teaching Pixel more tinkering real quick.”
They made their way to the room where Alden’s body had been taken. He was the only one there. Proper windowpanes muffled the sounds of excitement in the street.
Reed lingered, resting his warm hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Call out if you need me.”
Ivy and James had said the same thing, but this time Nate wouldn’t need anything at all. He only wanted to say goodbye to his friend.
Nate eased into the chair beside the bed.
No words came.
He expected to cry, but numbness took over instead. Even the pain beneath his bandages was far away—a distant beat. He struggled to look at Alden, his gaze drawn to Alden’s bloodied feet, instead of the emptiness of his face.
James came in the room, footsteps ghostlike. “Will you let me prepare him for burning?” he asked. “I’m no stranger to the stillness.”
Nate’s legs wobbled when he stood, and James caught him by the elbow to steady him.
“I’m all right,” Nate said. But he wasn’t. Alden’s jaw had gone slack, and his mouth sagged. Alden would have hated seeing himself like that, devoid of all his energy and sharp beauty.
Nate didn’t want to look anymore. He never wanted to see anything like it again. But once he turned away and left, that would be it. Forever.
James crouched in front of Alden’s bare, bloodied feet. “In Gathos City, they remake the bodies of the dead until they look like living dolls. And they put them on display for days.”
Nate grimaced. “That’s awful.”
“It brings the living peace.” James shrugged. “But I’d rather remember what someone looked like before all that.”
Nate remembered Alden carefully choosing several sparkling glass necklaces to wear on a rainy day, saying thathe’dglitter if the sun wasn’t up for the job. Alden hadn’t been a good person. He’d hurt a lot of people. But he’d lived without apology. And that’s what Nate would remember: Alden with cut glass sparkling against his pale skin, and his eyes shining with wicked joy.
“Thank you,” Nate said to James. He wanted to sink into the bed—to wrap his arms around Alden one more time. But he knew Alden would feel cold and wrong. “Gods watch you,” he whispered.
And even though he didn’t believe in the Old Gods, he imagined Alden in a different place, listening to Fran’s birdsong stories of a time no one else could remember.
Nate only made it as far as the hallway before his legs gave out from beneath him. He slid down the wall and dropped his head to his knees and cried. Low sobs wrenched out of him, a current of hurt piercing through his chest.
Reed crouched and opened his arms, offering an embrace without coming too close. The gesture was so tender and gentle that Nate didn’t hesitate—didn’t give himself a reason not to fall into Reed’s careful hold.
“I’m sorry,” Reed whispered.
Nate turned and hid his face against Reed’s shoulder. Reed held him fiercely, making soft sounds against his hair like he was gentling a crying child. And Nate didn’t mind. He was safe and free to cry, each breath a mournful, awful sound. His head was full—stuffed with too much, more than he wanted to know in one day. Terrible things and wonderful things all at once. He cried for all of them, lost in crushing grief.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“You’re heavier than you look,” Juniper complained, shoving Nate out of a deep, dreamless sleep.
