Scales and Swords ✓

49: Neritha

"Are you new?" I asked.

She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "Are you?"

"Well, yes." I swallowed.

She cracked a smile and laid a hand on my back. If she hadn't tried to kill me once, I wouldn't have thought she was about to stab me from behind. I tensed and she must've noticed.

"I'm a friend..." she faltered and dropped her hand. She stepped away and stretched a hand to me. "Neritha."

I accepted her calloused hand. "December."

She lifted a grey brow. "Like the month?"

I managed a smile. "Like the month."

Neritha could've been the same age as me, but she seemed so much older. Tall and taut, she stood with confidence and talked with ease. A scar slit the edge of her lips and travelled up her cheek. Her straight neck-length hair, held back by many pins, was the same color as her eyes. A sword hung by her hips—the same sword she once tried to kill me with.

"You going up?"

I returned my gaze to her. "Yes."

And that was where most of our conversation ended. I stopped on the last level, where she also got off. She nodded me goodbye and left for Cyr's home.

Who was she? What relationship did she have with Cyr? Did Cyr ask her to attack the capital?

Questions muddled my mind and laid like a dark haze over my vision, trapping me in place to ponder and wonder in an endless cycle, only answers could break.

I stared up the tree, relaying the events of the night before. My chest tightened, at the thought of Philip. Where was he and was he alright? I rounded the tree and started up the ladder, wondering how I had got down the night before.

His words replayed in my mind and suddenly Neritha seemed little in comparison. I knew a drunk man's words shouldn't be taken to heart, but don't our hearts speak for us when our brains can't. All our dirty little secrets and wishes are laid out in the open when that potion slides down our throats. But, it was said by Philip of all people, someone who could smile so largely after looking Kreatier's enemies in the eye and surviving. I didn't know what to make of it. Was it said in the moment, or had it perhaps come from somewhere deeper?

Or was it said out of gratitude? Said between friends? Yes, friends said things of that sort, right? I was his friend who was there for him when he was in a dark place. Nothing more, nothing less, friends.

The platform was empty. The blue had replaced the black sky and the top of the trees laid out before my feet, stretching as far as I could see. The bottle laid exactly where it had laid the night before. I picked it up, tucked it into my belt and climbed back down the ladder.

As soon as my foot touched the floor, the elevator door slid open and Philip stepped out. His eyes red-rimmed and his hair ruffled, my scarf circling his neck. He gave me a small hesitant smile. I inched towards him, but a figure in the corner of my vision kept me from moving any closer.

Neritha exited Cyr's home and started across the bridge. Philip looked from her to me, furrowing his brows. I pursed my lips and hoped the message was understood.

She came to stand before us, glanced at Philip but kept her gaze on me. "Nice meeting you December. I'll see you around."

She entered the elevator and disappeared down the tree.

A storm of emotions took Philip's face.

Cyr appeared at his door. Philip followed my gaze to Cyr. I found myself thinking in that moment, take his hand and run. Leave and never return. Escape this trap we've found ourselves under. I smiled at how unrealistic that dream was. Every second away I'd regret.