The Last Hope

16 - Friend

SONG FOR THIS CHAPTER - Heavy, Birdtalker. Linked above! If you enjoy the chapter please vote, it means a lot. Also, I actively encourage commenting and am trying my best to reply to any as quickly as I can. Want a chat? Don't be shy!

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Neck stiff from sleeping on the couch, Mercy groaned loudly, stretching her aching muscles. She rubbed at her stinging eyes; sleep had finally come last night - too little too late. Mercy felt that exhaustion through her whole body. When she pulled her hands away from her face and opened her eyes, she stopped dead.

The damper rune.

Through the blissful oblivion of sleep, she'd forgotten all about it. There were no dreams last night. Not even nightmares of her own volition - perhaps that was down to the rune? Perhaps it was her fatigue weighing down her subconscious. But now, fully awake, the memories slammed into her with full force. Devin. Dylan. Felix. Her realisation that she had to stop Cressida, whatever the cost. The terrifying presence of Sebastian, who had managed to nullify her magic with very little effort, it seemed. And if he was working with Cressida... well, like Mona had said, they were in a lot of trouble.

And then, lighter memories. Lincoln, the image of sapphire city he'd painted so vividly with words. The almost kiss. A strange feeling blanketed her stomach as she chewed her lip, weighing down like lead. What was she thinking? Lincoln, really? Sure, he was nice to look at, but he was also incredible at bringing out her worst, fiercest emotions. He could make her angry with a single, misplaced sentence. It wouldn't end well, especially not with everything that was going on. But that didn't stop Mercy's heart from racing, breath from catching whenever he was in the same room.

He'd been the one to stop the kiss, to pull away. Not her. Which meant he didn't want her, or he was too afraid of what it might do to the dynamic of the group - their ranks. She wasn't just Mercy anymore. She was the future queen of Ellyheim. And Lincoln, well Lincoln was ... a bodyguard? It meant nothing to Mercy, she didn't care about that at all. But to Mona? To Keenan and Ariah? What would they have to say? Lincoln had said it wouldn't be 'proper' - was that his way of saying 'no way in hell'? And then, like a child, Mercy had run away. Immediately, she'd regretted it. But her pride has risen, preventing her from apologising.

She chewed on her lip as the guilt chewed on her.

She would deal with this the way she dealt with everything in her life: ignoring it until it went away. Shoving it in a cramped corner of her subconscious and hoping it never reared its ugly head again - but since she was living under the same roof as him...

She heaved out a sigh, hands dropping to her sides as she stared at the rafters. It didn't matter anyway. All her musings were simply that: musings. Nothing had happened. Lincoln had made sure of that. And she was sure that his honour meant he'd never breathe a word of it to anyone.

"Good morning, liar."

Mercy shot up from the couch, twisting to see pale green eyes, boring two holes into her. His expression was volatile. Felix's voice was gravelly and low, from the screaming no doubt, his lips thinned into a hard line as he gave her a withering look.

"Fee! How are you feeling?" She rushed to him, careful not to touch him. His eyes remained guarded.

"Like I got stabbed in the stomach." He ground out, hissing as he sat up. He lifted the shirt Keenan had provided, probed at the flat expanse of skin, the faint outline of muscles shifting as he sat back, prodding for any physical signs of the evening. None remained. Not even any bruising. Just smooth skin and many unanswered questions. "What the hell is going on Mer?" Some of the iciness melted away, disorientation taking its place.