—From the journal of Kailin Strom
Ileaned against my desk, arms crossed over my chest, and looked at the bedroom I'd shared with Alar for the past few weeks. He was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed and lacing his boots, but there was already a void in the space he used to occupy. His side of the wardrobe was empty, the short stack of tactical manuals he'd kept on his nightstand was gone, and the light flight jacket that had hung on the back of the door because it wasn't insulated enough for the weather that had turned colder had been folded into his rucksack.
We didn't know whether he was allowed to take his uniform with him to Catonia, but no one had told him otherwise, sohe had assumed it was okay. Worst-case scenario, it would be confiscated when they checked his pack.
Alar's scent was still on everything. The pillow, the blankets, the half-empty wardrobe, the air. But his scent would fade within days, and then this room would be just a room, and the bed would be just a bed, which I would be sleeping in alone from now on.
To say that my heart was heavy was an understatement. I could barely pull a breath into my lungs, but I had to pretend that I was okay for Alar's sake.
Leaving was tearing him apart.
On top of the pain of leaving me, he was also suffering from separating from Veynathei, and he was feeling guilty as if any of this was his fault because he was the one going away.
But it wasn't his fault. He was a victim of circumstance, powerless in the face of a destiny that had other plans for him than the ones he had for himself.
"Breakfast should be ready by now." Alar hefted the rucksack, the straps biting into his jacket, the weight making him adjust his stance. "We should join the others."
"Not yet," I said, desperately clinging to these last moments we had.
He crossed the room and took my hand, his fingers warm and steady, his grip firm without being tight. "Let's not drag this out," he said gently. "It only makes it harder."
I nodded because he was right, and because if I opened my mouth to speak, I was going to cry, and I'd promised myself I wouldn't. Not until he was gone and I could fall apart without causing him more pain.
Morek had gotten up before dawn to prepare a farewell breakfast for Alar. He'd probably just improved on the standard delivery by adding spices, making it more flavorful, but I appreciated the effort.
He didn't need to do this, but he did, for Alar and for the rest of us.
When we got to the living room, everyone was already seated around the table, and the food was arranged with the kind of care that Morek normally didn't bother with. There was fresh bread, sliced and toasted, scrambled eggs with added spices and herbs, fried cubed potatoes, and cured meat, thinly sliced. A pot of caff was producing an aroma so strong that it could wake the dead.
Codric was slumped in his chair, his hands wrapped around a cup of caff that he wasn't drinking, and his usual jovial attitude was nowhere to be found. He looked diminished, somehow, as if Alar's impending departure had already torn a large piece out of him.
Shovia's hand rested on his forearm, and as her eyes met mine, they conveyed more compassion and understanding than she could ever express in words.
Morek stood at the kitchen counter, plating the last of the eggs. "Take a seat and eat," he said. "No one leaves this apartment with an empty stomach."
"Your father's rule?" Alar managed a half smile as he set his rucksack by the door and pulled out a chair for me.
"My rule." Morek set the plates down.
We ate, or at least we tried to. The food was good, better than anything the officers' mess normally produced, but I could barely taste it. I pushed eggs around my plate, nibbled on a piece of toast, and drank the strong caff without bothering to add sugar to it.
I couldn't stomach anything sweet when my life was so bitter.
The conversation was the kind that people made when they were avoiding the only subject that mattered. Morek talked about Korthax's shenanigans, Shovia asked no one in particular if we were aware of the change in the afternoon solo flightschedule, and Codric said nothing. He just sat and drank his caff and looked at Alar with an expression that made me want to leave the room and take Shovia and Morek with me so the cousins could have a private moment.
A knock on the door shattered the fragile pretense of normalcy.
Morek got up and checked who it was through the peephole. "It's Shaman Saphir and Commander Ravel," he announced before opening the door.
My stomach dropped.
Ravel probably wasn't here to say goodbye to Alar but to escort him to Skywatcher's Point, which meant that I wouldn't have an opportunity for a proper kiss goodbye and last words of love with Alar. Our farewell would be witnessed by the shaman, the commander, and everyone else in this room.
I hated that.
"Good morning," Saphir said, surveying the breakfast table with an approving expression. "I see that Morek's culinary skills continue to improve."
"Shaman Saphir." Alar rose to his feet. "Commander."
