Partisan - Book II

The Only Thing Left of Them

The Paragon leaves her alone in the tent and only looks back once, black hair framed in moonlight, dark eyes unreadable.

"We have to look at the ugly things," she says, "if we want to save the beautiful ones."

But there's nothing beautiful left, Fae thinks, a touch of wonder to the idea. It's all ash now, ash and charred, fragmented bits of—

She doesn't know how long she's been sitting in this chair, staring at nothing, her hand hovering uselessly near her face. She doesn't even know what she meant to do with it, only that she doesn't know how she's supposed to hold together an entire kingdom when she can barely keep herself from breaking apart.

"There's nothing left," Allayria had said. "Keesark is going to fall apart unless someone steps up."

No, no.

And she leaned in, not letting Fae have this, not letting her have this one sliver of time, one fragment in the sea of all the hours and days that span before them.

"You can either run off and fight a whole fort of dumbasses," she had said, "or you can go get even."

"Don't," Fae had pleaded then, the old words, the mix of her anger in the Gauntlet and Leo's last jibe twisting hideously across her face. "Please, don't."

No.

Fae makes herself sit back up. She has to keep going, keep moving. She has to pack, she has to—

She stands... and then just stands there.

Outside of her tent, people won't look at her. They shy away, eyes averted, and she wonders through the brief flicker of pain if this is how it is always like for Caj, strange, silent Caj. She wonders if he's stopped noticing it—if she'll stop noticing it before time strips their awkward discomfort away. They will all forget soon enough, but time will not strip away the heavy shadow that has taken up residence inside Fae.

There's a hand on her shoulder, then an arm, and it's Hiran, leaning a little into the half-hug, pulling her a little closer. He's not looking away, but he's watching and she wishes he wouldn't. She can't fall apart out here, in the open.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asks, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Tara and I are going to the mess hall. Do you want to come? Or I could bring something back?"

"No," she says, her head heavy as it shakes back and forth. Her stomach is hollow but food tastes like lead now and the thought of eating makes her nauseous. "I already ate. Go on, I just need to talk to... Caj."

"In his tent over there," Hiran says, tilting his chin toward a row of tents on the opposite side of the makeshift path. "'Llayria popped by about something a few minutes ago."

"Oh."

"He looked grumpy when she left, but to be fair he always looks grumpy," Hiran walks over with her, arm still around her shoulders. It's strangely comforting, feeling the warmth of another human being, the solidity of someone there, next to her. "Was he ever happy when it was just the two of you running around?"