Reclining in the grass, Ben rubbed his neck. “He looked me in the one eye I had left and said, ‘I think that ship has sailed, pal.’ He was just being cheeky, but my reply came out faster than I could stop it. I told him the ship had, indeed, sailed, and it had left me at the dock. Sikras can wear a false smile as easily as he lives and breathes, but that single sentence looked like it ripped his heart out. He asked me right then and there if I wished I’d have boarded the metaphorical boat to Dionus’s afterlife.”
Helspira held her breath. “And? What did you say?”
“That I fuckin’ hate boats.” Ben’s faceless skull turned toward her. “I couldn’t tell him, Hels. He’s like a brother to me. I love him. And he lost so much.”
“Ben”—Helspira softened her voice—“you lost things too. Vessik was also your friend. Imri was your sister. I mean, you lost your own body.”
“Yeah. Maybe. But I didn’t know Vessik the way Sikras did. And there was never a question that I’d see Imri again in death. The goddess Tiagon and the god Dionus are twins. Tiagon is the shield to Dionus’s sword. Their afterlife is combined into one paradise, so Imri and I always knew our bond would be eternal. But Sikras ... My life on this plane is the first and last time I’ll ever see him. And the last time he’ll ever see us. Leaving him all alone ... I can’t do it.”
Unsure what to do with Ben’s confession, Helspira wrung her hands together and lowered her head.
Ben turned away, staring into the forest. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” she said, springing up at the chance to aid him in any way.
“When you asked me a few days ago about getting closer to Sikras ... I need to know if you have his best interest at heart.”
Helspira froze. What kind of accusatory statement was that? Did he know about the banneret’s plan? How could he know? He couldn’t, she reminded herself, and took an extra moment to steady her breathing, but discomfort festered in her stomach, like a mountain of ants. “I can tell you that I’ve come to truly adore the both of you. If I had things my way, you’d both know happiness for however long you live.”
“That’s a relief to hear. Aside from Queen Saelihn and me, he doesn’t ...” A long pause followed, and Ben shuffled awkwardly. “I know it’s strange, and we’ve known one another less than a week, but the list of people a sentient skeleton and a reclusive necromancer can trust is astronomically low.”
“What are you saying, Ben?”
“I’m not asking you for forever, just whatever time you can handle, but”—he knelt, skeletal fingers grasping her hand—“promise me, when I face Vessik, if something goes wrong ... will you make sure he’s all right?”
The desperation in his grip was undeniable. Through her guilt, Helspira managed what she hoped was a comforting smile. “You’ll be fine. We have the scroll. Besides, Sikras is an adult. He’ll be okay.”
“We may outgrow the ability to ask for help, but we never outgrow needing it. He and Vessik had a pact to go wherever the godless go in death. After everything that’s happened ...” He shook his head. “If I’m gone, Sikras is here, alone. Even in death, he’s doomed to be alone.” His hold tightened, and despite having no vocal cords, his voice came out strained. “He’s so scared to be alone, Hels. So fucking scared, and I can’t help him, can’t take him with me. Gods, I’d doanythingto take him with me.”
As Ben broke down before her, Helspira parted her lips, thoughts slow to transform into words. “Ben, I ...”
“Please. I’m not afraid to die. But I am terrified to leave him here by himself.”
Somewhere in the distance, a bird screeched. Even with her sensitive hearing, it barely processed as a recognizable sound. Shallow breaths shook her chest, until finally she uttered, “I promise.”
What was another promise in a sea of them she couldn’t keep? A promise to the queen that she would get Sikras to aid the kingdom. A promise to Sikras that she would keep Ben safe from the Red Sentinel. A promise to Banneret Rowan that she would acquire the scroll and send Ben to his potential second death with a fake. And a promise to Ben that she would be there for the very man she was responsible for breaking if Ben didn’t make it back.
A short clatter rang out as Ben laid a hand over his ribcage. “Thank you. From the bottom of my long-since-rotted heart.”
Helspira managed a nod and wondered if it looked more convincing than it felt. Why had she promised him that? Simultaneously, how could she not have? How could sheeverleave Sikras to languish? Dammit all, she liked him. Adored him. Thoughts of him winking at her back in Everferd made her stomach roll, and the letter he had given her after he had sought Frank in Enos made her heart thrum, and the way he had stuffed afreaking poltergeistinto a cat’s corpse at the risk of pissing off a powerful wizard just because that wizard had dared to slight her character ...
Gods above, below, and in between. She may very well have liked Sikras far more than she cared to admit.
“Here.” Ben’s voice ripped her to reality as he reached into his parted jaws and retrieved the tiny scroll. “On the off-chance Theodore does come for us, I’d like you to hang on to this. You can use it to escape if things turn grim. Obviously, let’s hope I can use it to do the ole stabby-stab on Vessik, but humor me by taking it now, yeah?”
Despite the scroll’s lightness, the weight of it in Helspira’s palm felt like an anchor. The dull glow of Ben’s thread, his lifeline, pulsed through the neck hole in his cuirass. Even with the armor surrounding it, the stone and thread seemed so fragile nestled between his ribs. She gently tucked the scroll into her satchel. “I may not have a god or goddess, Ben, but when the moment comes, I will pray to any deity who will listen that you find whatever ending you most desire. You may be dead, but it’s still your life. You deserve to do with it whatever you see fit.”
“Thanks, Hels.” Immense gratitude lived in those two whispered words. “That means a lot.”
When the sound of crunching, frost-covered grass signaled Sikras’s approach, both Helspira and Ben shot into straighter positions.
“There we are.” Sikras slicked back his silver-gray hair, little good though it did him. The unruly locks bounced right back to where they had laid moments prior. Sweat glistened on his pale forehead, and a limp he tried to disguise slowed his gait. “As luck would have it, I found a few fresh corpses to resurrect as our sentries. What was growing on and near those fresh corpses, you ask? Mushrooms.”
Helspira winced. “I can’t help but feel like my loss of appetite is a reoccurring theme come evening time.”
“Oh, these aren’t for eating. Not unless you want searing stomach cramps and hallucinations.” With a relieved exhale, Sikras dropped to his knees and spread the fungi in the grass. Small gray-blue blobs of gills and fleshy stalks, they looked every bit as unappealing as Helspira predicted. But a faint blue glow emitted from the mushrooms, much like that in Ben’s chest cavity.
“They’re lamperino mushrooms,” Sikras explained. “Bioluminescent. The illumination is faint, but I remember the spell to increase their potency.”
