The Kwisling [The Isbjørn book 2]

Twenty-nine

Sri made her way into Luce's quarters the minute she heard about what had happened in Thibis. Still, she arrived hours after the incident. Word of Dha Chos happenings did not travel quickly in the palace, if at all.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, moving into his room, scanning over his entire body. There were no visible scrapes or bruises, but nothing would be visible when he had his shirt on.

"I'm fine." He had turned away from her the moment she moved into the room. And as she stepped toward him his entire body went rigid. "Really it's nothing. Just a few stitches."

"What's wrong?" She was less concerned about his physical health as she rounded to his front. His face spoke of everything outside of the realm of fine.

"What do you mean?"

"You're frowning."

He moved toward the bed, dropping a shirt he had been holding onto the bag of tools he had yet to unpack from the trip. "I'm always frowning."

"No." She grabbed his shoulder, forcing his gaze to meet hers. His eyes had frozen over giving the green depths the vacant look of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. "Your eyes are frowning."

He sighed; it was resigned and weary, a signal of the end of a deliberate effort and the beginning of passive deterioration. "I told him."

She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. "That what? The kiss? That you love--" Luce was deflating before her. "What did he say?"

"He. . . apologized." His eyes were no longer able to look forward, dropping down to his brown boots.

"Oh--"

"I know." He drew away from her, dropping onto one knee and sliding a canvas bag out. The items that had accumulated on the bed were dropped inside.

It took her a moment to realize what he was doing. "So you're leaving?"

"No-- well yeah. That's maybe a part of it." He fastened the top. "But it's the radio tower, too. I need other pieces that I'm not going to be able to salvage from ships." He was moving again, reanimated but still sulking. "I was going to tell everyone at dinner but-- I need to go back to the mainland."

"Luce, think about this. Give it a day at least so you can heal up. You're upset and not thinking clearly."

He stopped at his desk, collecting a few things there. "I've been thinking about it for a while actually." Luce was moving around Sri like she was just another piece of furniture as he continued to pack.

"At least take the day. You need to heal. You just--" He vacant as she caught his eyes again. But he was in there, she knew it, but it was like Luce had taken a huge step back from life. She wanted to reach in and tell him it was not hopeless, but he would not believe her. "Have you talked to John? Maybe you misunderstood, maybe he was just too suprised to--"

"Stop trying to spare my feelings."

She wanted to rekindle his heat but his insides were too damp with uncried tears. She always knew the crush would come to some type of end. But rejection? She had not thought it was possible. It was NOT POSSIBLE. "I can talk to him. I'll--"

"Don't!"

"Luce--"

"Get away from me."

She took a step back but it did not feel like enough. Luce thrust his arms out and she stumbled backwards. "Go!" he snapped. And she did.

His rage held all the power of a wildfire, the ice had melted and the flames underneath roared behind his eyes, ready to ignite anything that he came in contact with.
First it was the chair. Luce grabbed the chair beside his desk and broke it over the desk, the legs breaking off and flying over head. Still holding the back, he swung at the largest piece of an incomplete radio he had assembled.