The Way We Fall

Chapter 188 (Roche)

Roche had never felt quite so empty in her entire life. She missed the thrum of inkblood under her skin and the hauntingly feminine voice of ink twining through her dreams. She missed being able to feel the pulse of the earth beneath her feet and the ability to connect with the stars at night. Most of all, she missed the connection to her lost loved ones. Medea, Ikaros, Kairon, and everyone who had died in the name of the Ala and the future she'd promised them.

She'd spent the last few days in the infirmary, rifling through all of Leinos' medical texts with Verita to try and find some way to bring back her inkblood. Leinos theorised that her bound inkblood might be able to be restored one day, but it would be a slow process. She had been recovering her bound inkblood since Ikaros had helped her release it, and she'd barely been able to tap into her full potential with her existing inkblood. She would be starting from scratch all over again. But she didn't have time for that.

Tigris was set to venture off to Moiris at dawn.

Roche wasn't going to let her go alone. Even without her inkblood, she wasn't going to abandon her queen. She would be at Tigris' side, just as she'd promised. She would protect Tigris until the very end. Not as the Ala, but as Roche.

After a long night of preparing for the journey and a quick nap, Roche entered the queen's chambers in the hour before dawn.

"Wakey wakey your Maj..." Roche trailed off, noticing that the queen was already up and staring out her windows at the crashing waves along the beach. She was already dressed in a tight gown that hugged her slim hips. When she turned to face Roche, the firelight of her lit candles played across her regal cheekbones. Her cheeks pinkened at the sight of Roche, somehow matching the peachy decals of her pale yellow gown. Thin layers of gauzy fabric fluttered from her long sleeves like wings. For a moment, she looked like an angel.

"Roche," Tigris murmured, her voice rough from disuse in the early morning hours. Purple shadows stained the space under her eyes like bruises. Somehow, that too looked beautiful on her pale face. A stir of heat curled through Roche's stomach.

"My lady," Roche greeted, leaning against the doorway. She drank in the sight of her queen. She wasn't sure how many more times she would be able to do this.

Tigris waited patiently, holding herself with all the poise of the queen she was meant to be. She was quiet for a moment, letting Roche's eyes trace her figure. Her cheeks reddened slightly.

"I suppose you need to ready me," she said lightly. Roche jolted, her cheeks warming as she averted her eyes. She stumbled into the room, feeling unsteady without the weight of her inkblood coursing through her. Tigris steadied her as the breakfast tray in her hands jolted. The warmth of her hands sent flushes of heat coursing through Roche's chest.

"Right. Sorry," Roche replied, setting down the tray on the study. Tigris sat down, taking small, controlled bites as Roche strode over to the closet. The rich fabrics grated against Roche's skin with a gentle murmur. She gritted her teeth as a strip of lace caught on a callous on her thumb.

"So," Tigris' voice pierced the silence. The queen paused, swallowing a bite of the tart Roche had brought. "Any luck?"

She didn't have to specify further. Roche's breath rattled out of her. "Nothing yet," she grabbed Tigris' battle clothes. A simple white blouse. Fighting leathers. Thin trousers. Warm boots. She carried the bundle over to the queen, laying out the articles of clothing as she glanced at Tigris with a tight smile. "I'll keep trying. If there's any inkblood left in me, I'm going to get it back."

"I'm sure you will," Tigris replied after a moment. Her words were stilted but genuine with warmth. Roche turned, and Tigris was standing, brushing crumbs off her fingers. Roche hurried over with the blouse hung over her arm. Her fingers carefully unlaced Tigris' fine gown, letting the fabric fall to the ground with a soft sigh. Roche watched the candlelight flicker around the curve of Tigris' hip. Her chest squeezed at the sight. She carefully slid Tigris' blouse over her skin.