“Keeping him alive like this isn’t mercy. It’s cruelty. We are making ourselves feel better while he suffers.”
“You don’t know that he’s suffering.”
“You don’t know that he isn’t!”
We stare at each other, while the argument our eyes are having crackles in the air—the one where she tells me I’m letting sentiment cloud my judgment, and I tell her she’s letting cold calculation cloud hers.
Therin clears his throat. “We don’t have to decide today, but Vel’s right that we need to consider it. And Cairn’s right that we can wait for a little longer.”
“Howmuch longer? Another week? A month?” She steps closer. “I love him too, Cairn. We all do. But this iswrong.”
I slam one hand down onto the table. “Wewait.”
Vel makes a disgusted sound, shaking her head. “There is noreasoning with you.” She stalks past me and walks out.
Therin looks at me and then Serath. “I need a drink. Coming?”
Serath gives him a smile, then touches my arm. “I believe he’s still in there.”
“I know you do.”
She pats my arm, then follows Therin out.
Silence falls over the shelter. I sink into my chair, staring at the map but not really seeing it. Vel’s words turn over in my mind. Maybe she’s right and I am being selfish by keeping him alive. Maybe I can’t face what it means if he’s gone.
“He spoke to me.”
The words are so quiet I almost miss them.
I turn my head. Alleria is still sitting on the furs, but she’s looking at me now. There’s tension in every line of her body, but she holds my gaze.
“What did you say?”
“Caelum. He spoke to me. This morning when Serath took me to sit with him. I was talking about …” She swallows and looks away. “He blinked, and then spoke.”
I go very still.
Caelum. Who hasn’t spoken a word since we freed him. Who I’ve visited every single day. Who Vel just argued that we should mercy kill.
He spoke to her?
“You’re lying.”
Her chin comes up, eyes flashing. “I’m not.”
“I’ve been talking to him every day. So have Therin, Serath, and Vel. He doesn’t respond. Andyouexpect me to believe he spoke to you? Ahuman?”
“I don’t expect you to believe anything.” There’s a flash of defiance in her eyes. “I’m just telling you what happened.”
“And what did he say?”
Hertongue sweeps over her lips. “He said … ‘Not how it was.’ And then he was gone again.”
Not how it was. What doesthatmean?
“What were you talking about?” Something in what she was saying must have made him surface. Something important enough to drag him back from wherever he’s been hiding.
She bites her lip, and looks away.
