“As long as she walks Siaphara’s ground, there’s ...” Sikras’s words crumbled into an uncertain stutter. “I—I could still—”
“What? Save her? Bring her back?” Benjamin freed him from his grasp and stepped backward. “If you thought there was even a sliver of a chance, you’d have done it years ago. Imri’s existence on this plane is nothing more than a shallow comfort to you. As long as she’s still here, you don’t have to mourn her. But she’s gone.”
“Benjamin—”
“And what’s worse, so are you. I’m a literal walking corpse, and I swear some days I’m more alive than you are.”
Shaking hands pinched the bridge of his nose, and Sikras squeezed his eyes shut. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because you’re my friend for Dionus’s sake. My brother.” Benjamin swatted him with the back of his hand. “I’d like to see you happy before I die a second time. Or third. Fourth? I don’t know, I lost track. Now, answer me honestly. Does Helspira make you happy?”
“I barely know her.”
“Answer the question.”
“I—” The words caught in his throat, or perhaps, the right ones didn’t exist. His gaze unfocused, but a slow, genuine smile stretched one corner of his lips. “I don’t think I remember what it’s like to be happy. But she makes me forget I’m miserable.”
A bony hand clapped onto Sikras’s back. “If that’s true, the woman’s more deity than demon, because that’s a damn miracle. Let’s make sure she’s still alive and kicking, then go kick Vessik’s ass, yeah?”
“Soon.” Tipping his head back, Sikras traced the cloud formations to avoid looking at Benjamin’s skull. “I answered your question. I need you to do the same for me.”
Remaining silent, Benjamin awaited the impending inquiry.
Haunted by Death’s words, Sikras stiffened. He just had to say it. Blurt it out. Dive in with both feet and get it over with. “Am I hurting you, keeping you alive like this? Denying you eternal rest?”
A pause. It lasted only a second, but never did a moment feel like the birth and death of entire civilizations. “I’d live a thousand lifetimes with you. You’re my dearest friend.”
Those words should’ve been comforting, but none spoke the language of avoidance more fluently than Sikras. Somewhere in the sea of repression, a realization surfaced. Instinct compelled him to drown it, to shove it back down to its years-long prison, but he grappled against the impulse and let it float. Let it breathe. Let it gut him from the inside.
Sikras looked down, bit the inside of his cheek to steady his expression, and donned a false smile. “I know what I have to do, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t terrify me.”
Benjamin placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared. You know, there may not be many instances where this statement is true but murdering your best friend and falling for someone who isn’t your wife doesn’t make you the bad guy.”
A brief lapse in his mental fortitude caused Sikras to cringe. “I’m not afraid to be the bad guy. Just afraid to be the last guy standing.”
After a quick reassuring squeeze, Benjamin’s arm dropped to his side. “I’ll stand with you until someone cuts off my legs. Then I suppose I’ll kneel. Or sit. There’s a lot of variables depending on where my legs are severed in this scenario.”
Sikras managed a grim smile. “I appreciate it, but I think this is one fight you might have to take lying down.”
The wind blew Benjamin’s cloak as Sikras’s statement settled in. “You’re serious?”
He nodded, focusing on slow, steady breaths to quell the rising panic. “A promise is a promise. Unfortunately, the list of people I can trust is tragically short. It’s a good thing we’re trailing Helspira, because I can’t do this without her help. If she agrees, well”—he pulled in a deep breath and held it—“I have one last deal to make with Death.”
“A deal?” Benjamin cocked his head. “Do you even have anything left that she’d want?”
With full confidence, Sikras smirked. “I have eight.”
