He walked with his back as straight as ever, carrying Geryll’s shield in his hands like a great offering to the gods. I caged my energy within me, not wanting to intrude on this painful moment, but I felt the endless, bottomless sadness he kept hidden. The ache. The guilt.
Gods, this guilt would devour him.
I held on tighter to my candle as the voices around us grew and dimmed in waves. Later. This time I would talk to him later. He’d saved me from the brink of crumbling moons ago, and he’d been right–I would do the same for him. Try to, at least.
This was an ache only he could truly defeat.
In front of him, Nadya walked with her head bowed, small cries shaking her shoulders. She had no candle and refused to enter the crypt, but insisted she would accompany Geryll’s spirit one last time.
“Poor girl,” Mrs. Thornbrew said from right in front of me. They’d known Geryll longer, it was only normal they’daccompany him first. She sniffed into her handkerchief, holding onto Mrs. Mallowmere’s arm for support, though the woman was a head smaller than her. “She’s taken this loss hard.”
My gaze dropped to my feet as I swallowed thickly. Dax walked closer to me, his own candle flickering in tune with mine. He hadn’t laughed once today, all the joy burrowed. In the distance, the trolls grunted lowly, as if sensing our pain and wanting to lessen it. The warriors only flinched harder at the sound.
“She would, the dear.” Mrs. Mallowmere patted Mrs. Thornbrew’s arm. “At least she survived.”
Mrs. Thornbrew sniffed harder as we neared the crypt. Warm light poured out of its open door, like a portal to another world. The people of Solkar’s Reach believed their ancestors always watched over them and would protect them in their time of need.
Perhaps they were right. But now, only weapons remained of the warriors who’d perished. Were their souls wandering the plains, trying to get home?
I clenched my jaw and focused on my flame. Only the gods knew.
“Yes,” Mrs. Mallowmere said sadly. “But she’s not the same. I keep telling her to leave her room more often. She doesn’t train anymore. Doesn’t eat. She’s just locked herself away from all of us–”
Beside me, Dax tensed.
“–Ry and I both tried to talk to her,” she went on. “She avoids both of us.”
“She’ll come to, you’ll see,” Mrs. Mallowmere said gently. “It’s hard for a young soul.”
Dax’s steps slowed down, enough for me to turn and look at him. The people behind us kept walking, giving us a wide berth.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered, still caught up in thoughts of Geryll and Ryker’s guilt infusing my veins.
Dax narrowed his eyes in the distance. “You won’t like this.”
“I don’t like anything now.”
He worked his jaw for the longest time. “I know for a fact Nadya leaves her room every morning. So why–”
“Why would Mrs. Thornbrew say otherwise?” My chest tightened, looking up ahead. The first in the line had almost reached the crypt’s door. The light was already playing on Ryker’s stern face. “She could have just lied to her. Wanted space. Or Mrs. Thornbrew misunderstood.”
Nadya truly loved her space and Mrs. Thornbrew loved to talk.
“Yeah. That sounds right,” he said, but didn’t sound like it was right at all.
I kept looking at them, walking closer to the Memory Hall, Ryker caught between them, the weight of the shield shattering more of him with each step.
All this sorrow he carried within him.
Something ugly fractured inside of me.
Not fear.
Recognition.
My heart plummeted into my ankles, blazing my veins as it went. My breathing fractured. My fingers dug into the candle until the hot wax dripped onto my skin. I didn’t care.
“You still had one vial of truth serum, right?” I shook with rage.
