“This should be a victory,” he said, fists clenched, voice breaking.
Skeletal fingers wrapped tighter around the snath of her scythe. “Does it feel like one?”
The question cut deeper than any blade. Sikras squeezed his eyes shut, and the mocking sting of unshed tears burned behind his lids. If he tightened his jaw any harder, teeth would chip. But rather than run to the familiar comfort of numbness, he replayed the pain in Benjamin’s voice when Benjamin had realized he couldn’t accompany Imri to the twin gods’ afterlife. When Benjamin had realized they had succeeded. When Benjamin had realized he would be doomed to live another day.
“Sikras?”
The weight of Helspira’s hand on his shoulder startled him. With his back straight, eyes forcibly widened to keep the tears at bay, Sikras donned his practiced smile and spun to face her.
Concern showed in her knitted brows. “Are you all right?”
He raised her hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss atop it. “Almost.”
Freeing her hand, Sikras cleared his throat and stepped past her, then stopped when he stood within several feet of Benjamin. He stole a fleeting glimpse over his shoulder to see if Death remained, but she had disappeared.
Benjamin tilted his head. “I can feel you staring at me. Are you in disbelief that a man can still look this good four years postmortem, or do I have something stuck in my teeth?”
His hands on his hips, Sikras rocked on the heels and balls of his feet, looking anywhere, everywhere, except for Benjamin’s face. “Both, actually.”
“Really?” Benjamin scraped at his teeth, until he pinched a small red fiber between his fingers and plucked it out. “Huh. Looks like lint from a Red Sentinel scarf.”
A bird trilled in a far-off tree, generously filling the long pause with sound. “Benjamin?”
“Yes?”
“Are you tired?”
“You know I don’t get tired. And even if I did, it’s not that long of a walk to Vinepool.”
Sikras finally faced him. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not tired.”
“Oh.” Benjamin’s tone filled with understanding. “We’re not talking about walking, are we?”
“Tell me you’re fine, and we can forget this whole conversation ever happened.”
Wind rustled the tall grasses that snow hadn’t weighed down. Benjamin stared at his feet, quiet, until he turned his eye sockets upward. “I’m tired, Sikras.”
A compulsive laugh vanished in the wind. Sikras nodded, burrowing his fingers into his hips. “Well, I don’t know any good bedtime stories, but at least let me tuck you in.”
“Are ... you serious?”
“Unequivocally. And I am deeply, fiercely sorry it took me this long.”
Benjamin raised his hands to exonerate any guilt. “No apologies, please. You’re my friend. I’d do anything for you.”
“I know,” Sikras whispered, throat tight. “It’s time I return the favor.”
Crunching snow signaled Helspira’s approach. She stood beside Sikras but stayed silent.
Swallowing the pain, Sikras grinned.“If I recall, I won the last completed game of Rack and Ruin. If you go now, I’ll remain the reigning champion for all eternity, so ... this is a win-win for both of us, really.”
Bony digits clasped Sikras’s forearm. “You’ll be okay?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. That actually means something now that I gambled my lives away, like a bettor at a Tsa'nakai race.”
Benjamin leaned in, as if inspecting every inch of Sikras’s face. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can never tell when you’re lying.”
“Yes, you can.” Sikras patted his hand. “But let me do this for you anyway.”
