At this point, Cai’s come to stand beside him, so he must’ve been the one laying me in the bed. I have a killer headache and am still woozy, but even in my addled state I can put a few things together; I just need help with the rest.
“Where are we? Where’s Ren? Is he,” I swallow, terrified to know the answer. They only showed me the antidote on Cai. I saw them give it to the other two, but it was in Soren’s system far longer than anyone’s. “Did it work?”
Yri risks a slow step closer, approaching me like I’m a feral animal. “Ren’s here, angel. We’re in a house about halfway home.”
My legs start to give out, but I catch myself on the wall. I’ve never been a damsel in distress in my life and this whole situation pisses me off like there’s no tomorrow. I’m not about to make it worse by collapsing at their feet after they somehow broke us out of that hell and dragged my ass fifty miles.
I slide to the floor and rest my back against the wall, closing my eyes until the room stops spinning. Yri and Cai never come closer, and I appreciate it. As much as I want to lean on their comfort, I need a minute. Too many blows over the last week and they just haven’t stopped coming, but at least Soren’s death isn’t one of them.
“Well, Cai, I think that squares us away.”
“What’re you talking about?” he asks in honest confusion.
“That favor you owe me for beating you in the last Gauntlet. I think this makes us good.”
He half chuckles, more breath than anything, and slowly slides to rest against the wall across from me. He maintains a cautious distance, not brushing against my legs.
“If those are the type of favors you ask for, remind me never to bet against you again,” he jokes, but it sounds strained.
As my brain plays catch up, I cringe. “How’s your face, Yri?”
He doesn’t say anything at first, and I worry I actually did some serious damage or he’s upset at me lashing out when they went through who knows what to save us, but he just steps closer before sitting beside me. He slowly and nervously takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. It doesn’t feel like he’s offering me support, instead like he’s desperately seeking it for himself.
“I’m so sorry,” he croaks, sounding like he’s fighting tears.
It freaks me out more than anything, because I really don’t know how to handle something like this. Poisoned mates, abduction, some blood harvesting; sucks, but I can fight through the pain. But Yri is the one I can always count on not to make things awkward, to make me laugh. Yet here he is, sounding broken in a way I’m not prepared for, and needing something I don’t know how to give.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s not like we knew the sanctuary was on top of Mt. Doom and full of sadists. They’re like those damn trap door spiders.” I shudder, but he doesn’t buy into my teasing.
“We couldn’t protect you,” he continues anyway. “You picked us to be your mates and we let you down, almost got you killed and, and,” he breaks off and I take a stab at where his mind’s at, what he’s worried happened.
“Hoard level two still remains locked; access denied.” I squeeze his hand in comfort, hoping he gets it because I really don’t want to voice the words, don’t want to tell them about the close call before some human girl distracted the skeevy guard. “And you three went and stole all the credit for what would no doubt have been an impressive rescue on my end,” I prattle on, but he cuts me off.
“Ezra. Just...just for a few minutes, don’t hide behind sarcasm and quips, okay? You don’t need to talk about anything that happened in there, but I wish you would. And we’ll get you home safe even if it means you’d rather not go through with the ritual anymore,” he whispers brokenly.
“Where’s Ren?”
I open my eyes, the room finally staying in one place. My eyes have adjusted to the low lighting and I’m able to see better, gently turning Yri's face so I can inspect how much damage I did. I’m both relieved and disappointed in myself that it doesn’t look any worse than a hand shaped sunburn. I’m just going to chalk it up to some part of me recognizing it was him and holding back instead of losing my touch.
“On guard rotation,” Cai explains, keeping his distance. “He’s beating himself up the worst thinking it’s his fault that the whole chain of events started.”
My heart breaks for him. Soren takes his position and honor more seriously than the others, and I hate him thinking any of this could remotely be his fault. I try to pull my anger to the surface, because wallowing won’t serve any purpose beyond making us feel worse.
“Can you get him real quick? So I can talk to all of you?”
Yri stiffens beside me, but when he tries to pull his hand free, I just curl my fingers even tighter. I may not want to talk about everything that happened, but if it makes him feel better, I will. People always talked about me picking my mates, trying to prove their worth, but no one taught me what it actually meant.
No one explained how I’d need to be there for them just as much, that sometimes they might need more from me than I do from them. I’m used to being self-reliant and never felt like I really needed mates for anything more than companionship, sex, and because it was expected. I spent all this time assuming men were only interested in me for the power boost, but aren’t I guilty of doing that exact same thing? I had more of a guarantee that I’d be able to shift than anyone, and now it’s slipped through my fingers. They need more than I know how to give, but for them, I’m willing to try; even if it makes me uncomfortable.
Cai comes back with Soren and when he doesn’t immediately come sit beside me, it hurts worse than I want to admit. But I do, because despite being used to suppressing and hiding all of that, they need to hear it right now.
“I can’t possibly stink bad enough that Yri’s the only one brave enough to sit by me, can I?”
I hold their stare until Soren cautiously sinks to the ground on my other side and Cai across from me. Both of them are guarded and nervous, and I hate it. While still holding Yri’s hand hostage, I rest my head on Soren’s arm, waiting until he starts to relax before speaking.
I can’t give Yri completely what he asked for, too accustomed to making inappropriate jokes at the worst of times. I take the power away from painful situations by making light of them, so they hurt less to talk about, and even now a part of me needs that coping mechanism.
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
