Pyre

Chapter 18

TOBIAS POV

Light footsteps draw me out of a deep, troubled sleep. When I notice the absence of weight on my arm, my eyes crack open, and I stare across the gloomy apartment to see Tris standing at the counter, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug and her head bowed.

I watch her for a moment, not knowing what to say. We didn't really talk about Dez last night. I still don't know what to say, and I have had all of yesterday to consider it. But now that I know of the other tragedy haunting her, the last thing I want to do is bring it up.

Both of us have grown tired of apologizing for the collateral of war. There shouldn't be sorries or excuses for what it has taken from us.

She remains motionless for quite a while, bent over the counter as if the weight of grief has crippled her. And I don't know how she does it, how she loses everything and is still standing. All I can do is watch her, building the courage to say something, anything.

Eventually my gaze shifts to the alarm clock. It suddenly dawns on me that I have a leadership meeting to attend in less than ten minutes.

"Shit," I say out loud, untangling myself from the covers.

Her head snaps up at the sound of me jumping out of bed. I hurry and pull on a pair of pants that are on the floor from last night and tuck my gun away in my waistband against my lower back. Then, as I am sliding my arms in my jacket, Tris croaks, "I thought you went to that meeting last night."

"We postponed it," I explain, shaking my head. "We agreed that we couldn't make a brash decision, so we thought it would be better to take the night and think about it."

She nods, biting her lip. And now more than ever I need to be home, with her, and it tears my heart out to think that she will be mourning by herself, even for a bit. But maybe she needs that time.

"Will you be okay?" I ask, crossing the room over to her. "I shouldn't be too long."

"I'll be fine," she says quietly.

I reach out tentatively, pulling her in for a hug which she automatically slumps into. Her breaths are shaky in my ear when I bury my face in her shoulder, and when I let her go, she is wiping away tears.

"Tobias," she whispers. "Do whatever you have to to win this war."

Her eyes are heavy; they carry dread and trauma and manage to stay open, weighted down by the sleepless nights but still open. Their gray reflects the ashes they have seen, and I have only seen her this close to death once, after the first war.

The Dauntless flames are being extinguished, one tragedy at a time. They have always burned the brightest within her—lethal and colorful and untamed.

But that fire is almost gone.

"I will," I promise.

I lean down to kiss her, just wanting a spark to remind me that there is still a fight to be had, a fight that I have to win in order to put an end to this living hell. It is gentle and conveys so much unwieldy emotion that sometimes we can't put into words. But it is there, and when I pull back and wipe away her tears, both of us seem to be a little better.

"I'll be back soon," I tell her.

Tris straightens and nods, collecting herself. She returns to lean at her spot at the counter, and I walk out of the apartment begrudgingly.

The Dauntless are furious, as they should be. There is a raging aura to the compound that follows me all the way up to the Pire as I pass people who can't hold back from fidgeting and wearing unapproachable expressions, as if they are itching to retaliate against the latest attack.