“...I had known a long while,” he said, “that I wasn’t what the women my mother wanted me to marry were looking for. That I was…too human for them.” His mouth tightened. Arguments leapt to my tongue, but I stayed silent as he said, “And I knew it was likely that I was not what anyoutsiderwe forged alliances with would be wanting, either. It was…a brief fancy. A few days of delirium, the idea of this working.” He looked up at me, looked mein the eyes while everything in me crumbled down. “So don’t worry, Rowena. Don’t. You have taken nothing from me that you didn’t give. We’ll make you safe, and I’ll be…I’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t going to let him see me cry. I wasn’t going to show that I was harmed. Wasn’t that the first thing you learned, as a child? Not to show that you hurt? I turned away, focused on slowly, slowly filling the bowl.
Against the wall, Hagmar yawned and stretched. He said something to Khal, but I wasn’t listening. I don’t know if the magic was even flowing.
“He’s leaving,” Khal said.
I looked up. The bowl was still in my hands.
“He needs to prepare for the journey. Should I?—"
“Don’t get up.” I put the bowl down by the hearth, went to bar the door. Full daylight, and we needed to bar the door, because I’d brought so much trouble to him. And then I was just standing there, motionless, with my fingertips on the woodgrain.
“Are you alright?” He said.
I didn’t have an answer for him, so instead I asked. “Is it so repulsive? The idea of making love to me?”
Silence filled the space behind me, and then the creak of a stool. I waited, listening to my breathing, to the ache in my chest.
“Yes,” he said, his voice husky. “It is and it should be.”
I stayed still, looking at that door.
“There are people who let themselves take pleasure in other people’s suffering. I can’t be that. You might think I’m a monster, but I’m not that kind.”
“Did I seem like I was suffering very much when I kissed you?” He was quiet, and I forged on. “You didn’t…you didn’t seem to be suffering at the pool.”
“I didn’t know yet.”
“If you need to know thenask!” I wheeled on him. “Stop making decisions for both of us! I’m not…I’m not a child!”
“I know you’re not a child.”
“Then let me speak for myself!”
“What do you want to say?”
“Not this!” And this was ridiculous. We were staring at each other. Heat pulsed in the air, coloring the edges of my vision, like I was trying to fix this with magic, but there was no magic that could fix. “I…” I drew breath, clenched my fists. “I don’t want more decisions being made for me.”
“What decision am I making for you?”
“This!” I flung the word in his face, realized I was wrong. “...none. But you haven’t had a chance to make any. You’re wounded.”
“And you think I’m going to get better, and I’ll start making decisions again?” There was hurt in his eyes.
“No. Yes.” I was falling, fading. Why did I want to fight him? “I don’t know.” He looked at me, and I didn’t know what I was begging for, how to fix this. I didn’t know if there was a way to be what he needed, or how I would ask. “What are we?”
Khal breathed deep, like he coped with more pain than the wounds, like he was holding those closing slices together again. “We’ll make it safe out of here, away from the sporing,” he said. “And I’ll find an answer for you, alright? Whatever that is.”
Vrathgar’s voice came through the door, more banging on the oak.
The journey down the steps was excruciating, through the cavern, under a chill gray sky. Khal’s face was a mask of control, his steps tense with pain. Vrathgar stayed near him, scanning the forest and then the crowd, as if he wasn’t, like me, trying to be beside Khal in case he fell over. But Khal didn’t fall. No one attacked us. And then the sky faded pink, and the old chieftess from before was murmuring, and we were walking throughwhat looked like solid rock and felt like air, back into the open world.
I was not as strong as an orc. I knew the bag I carried was lighter than the others, had seen them distribute Khal’s supplies among them. But I was glad to be stronger than before. I was glad he didn’t have to worry whether I would fall.
And that reservoir inside me was still low, but I could stretch out the thread of conversation and pull it back. If I lit someone on fire, probably, yes, I would lose consciousness again. But this, these small things…I was coming back together.
At noon, someone called rest. Khal sat, heavily, leaned against a tree.
