Sevensworn

XVI. Brittle, Broken

He was shaken awake that night to panicked whispers of his name.

At first the voice was all he registered. Then the hands on his shoulders, the choppy breathing of the one speaking, and the clamminess of their palms.

His eyes dragged open, blearily landing on Zia's face and the angry tears that streaked it. A moment later and he was up, out of the bed without hesitation, with questions leaping to his tongue. Ronan was shaking with adrenaline, wondering if he should be running for a weapon.

"What is it?"

"Acaeus," Zia said sharply. "It⁠—he⁠—fuck." She gritted her teeth. "Bastard."

He froze. Watched as Zia swiped tears from her eyes and shoved Ronan's clothes into his arms. She herself was dressed as if ready to go out into the storm.

"Put those on and meet us downstairs."

She stormed from the room, pulling up her hair hastily as the door shut behind her. Ronan stood still, slack-jawed and still half asleep, holding the clothes gingerly.

"Us?" He managed, speaking to no one but the empty room.

A lantern had been lit and left by the door, but the rest of the room was consumed by darkness. Judging by his view of the moon through the window, it was still night. As he pulled on his clothes, he wondered what could have happened between the quiet, peaceful dinner they'd shared hours prior and now.

It struck him as he was sliding on his boot.

Acaeus had not been present at the table. He had not seen him since the gardens, when he had⁠—

Ronan shoved the other boot on, putting on a thigh-length black coat and cloak over it with shaking fingers. He grabbed the leather strap connected to the sheath of his trident and slung the weapon over his shoulder, snagging the lantern by the door as he darted from the room. He ignored the mounting ache behind his eyes and walked swiftly down the hall, toward the sound of riled voices. By the time he reached the staircase and started down it he could hear them clearly.

"Is there anything we can do?" There was a rustling of paper, and Liliana's voice responded.

"There has to be. Right? We can't just let him⁠—"

Ronan rushed to the end of the staircase, eyes sweeping over everyone gathered in the main hall as the four awaiting him fell silent. Wynne stood near a decorative bookshelf with her hands clenched tightly into fists, Shivaroth sat cross-legged beside her, Zia was pacing fast enough to wear down the carpet beneath her feet, and Liliana stood in the middle of them all, holding a crumpled piece of paper. Ronan's body went cold. Acaeus wasn't there. Acaeus wasn't there.

"Does anyone want to tell me what's happening?" It took everything he had to keep his voice steady. They all avoided his gaze but Liliana, who stepped forward without a word and handed over the paper she'd been holding so gingerly.

His eyes struggled to focus on its words.

Ronan, it read.

I assume this will reach your eyes eventually, though I pray it is not until I am back by your side and triumphant.

He looked up at Liliana, who simply nodded at him to continue.

Should you find this before then: I have left, as I promised, not without reason. You must trust that all I do is for your safety, and that you have every bit of my loyalty. I have not deserted you; I have gone to get you help.

I know you're lying. You were never a good liar⁠—a tear marked this word and the ink that was smeared after it⁠—as I have told you so many times before. Something is wrong with you, and I believe I know how I can fix it. You are seeing things, aren't you? Hearing them? My sister suffered the same affliction, an effect of some pact with the Three. I know someone who can help. You must trust me, I beg of you.