The dragon wasn't dead, but he wasn't alive, either.
He was caught between two opposing forces, and when he moved, he did so of his own will. It wasn't like the time I'd compelled corpses to move; whatever I'd done to the dragon, whatever I'd pushed into him, didn't counter the fact that he was still himself, still a dragon.
I'd never known fear to silence Akela before, but she'd stopped shouting at me, stopped urging me to back away and disappear into the forest. She stood behind me, either unwilling or unable to leave me facing a dragon alone, and I held out a hand as the dragon stepped closer. No matter how young he was, he could've finished me off in a few bites, and he was skittish, liable to snap his jaws at me.
Fear had yet to leave him, and his death probably felt as though it had occurred minutes ago. The spear was still embedded between his ribs, and he let out a low, rumbled warning when I took a single step forward.
“It's alright,” I whispered, holding both hands in front of me. “I'm just going to...”
The dragon growled louder and louder, claws sinking into the dirt and cracking the ground open, but I kept my eyes on his as I moved closer, hoping he understood that I only wanted to help. His whole body tensed as I placed a hand against his side, inches above the wound, wings fanning out as I wrapped my fingers around the spear.
The handle was caked in dark, dried orange blood, and I gripped it tight, not giving the dragon time to get used to the idea of me removing it. I wrenched it free, taking the dragon's pain along with it, but he still roared out, slamming a paw against the ground. It wasn't until I dropped the spear into the dirt and held my hands out in front of me that he stopped lashing out with his tail.
Falling flat against the ground, the dragon grumbled more than he growled.
“See? That's much better,” I said, carefully stepping back in front of him. “We're not going to hurt you. Are we, Akela?”
“Ah...” was all she managed.
The dragon watched me with giant, glassy eyes, and I tentatively placed a hand on the end of his snout. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared, and my heart hammered in my chest as his lips curled back, fangs sliding apart. I didn't move my hand, and the dragon's long tongue lolled out of his mouth, tasting the air and wrapping around my wrist.
I laughed shakily, sound rattling around my chest, and the dragon tilted his head to the side, tongue slipping back into his mouth.
“It's nice to meet you too,” I said, crouching in front of him. “I'm Rowan. Do you have a name?”
The dragon tilted his head to the other side, nose twitching.
“Would you like one?” I asked, and the dragon swung his tail across the clearing, letting out a growl of a purr. I'd named plenty of sheep but never a dragon, and my eyes darted around the clearing. “Let's see... Oak? What do you think of Oak?”
The dragon shot to his feet, knocked me back, and beat his tail against the floor. He looked as delighted as a half-dead, permanently-decaying creature could.
“Oak it is,” I said, getting to my feet with the help of Akela.
She'd finally torn herself off the spot, but her unblinking eyes remained fixed on Oak as he stretched out. I grinned and Akela looked at me as though I was mad, which I took to be a personal achievement.
“Are you going to be alright? Do you know where the other dragons are?” I asked, and Oak blinked. “Akela and I are going to Orinhal, but you should head for Kyrindval. They'll look after you there.”
Strangely, those few words seemed to mean something to Oak. He straightened out, rocked back on his hind legs and stared up at the sky, growling thoughtfully. Slamming back against the ground, he stretched his wings out, placed his head at my feet, and stared up at me expectantly.
“Um. Do you want us to... ?”
Oak's tail swished to and fro, and I didn't allow myself to put any more thought into it. Moving around to his side, I carefully placed a foot against his elbow and climbed onto his back. I hooked my fingertips around the more pronounced scales protruding from his back, settling just beneath the base of his neck, and he didn't shake me off; I'd done the right thing.
“Northwood, please tell me I am hitting my head and you are not really sitting on a dragon in this very moment,” Akela said, and I had no answer for her. I could only beckon her closer, heart in my throat, terrified but trusting. “No, no, this sort of journey, it is not what I am cut out for.”
Oak lifted his head and I clung on tighter, though I didn't slide back. He inched towards Akela, knocking his nose against her chest, and she looked too startled to fall back.
“We won't need to find horses at this rate, right?” I said, giddy with how ridiculous it all was. “We'll be at Orinhal in no time.”
“Northwood, I am certain that even Tizo is coming up with a plan better than this one,” Akela said warily, staring down at Oak when he didn't back off. With a look that said she expected to regret it, Akela lifted her hands and placed them on the sides of Oak's head. His tail twitched but he didn't bare his fangs at her. Humming, Akela tilted her head this way and that, catching her reflection in Oak's eyes. “... ah, what is coming over me? This dragon, he is an overgrown puppy, yes? I am looking at this face and I am thinking, perhaps I am jumping to conclusions.”
Back to herself, Akela patted Oak on the snout and marched around to his side, chest pushed out. I held out a hand and she climbed onto Oak's back behind me saying, “Sorry, sorry, my scaly friend, I am not meaning to scuff you with my boots,” as she got comfortable.
“Once we take off,” I whispered,” You can cling to me if you want. I won't tell anyone.”
Akela laughed heartily, but now that she was on his back, Oak wasn't wasting any time. Wings stretched out, he set off at a run, kicking off the ground with his hind legs. He flung himself in the air, wings beating hard to push him higher, and for a second, I was convinced that he'd crash back into the forest.
Huffing, Oak pushed through the strain of take-off, seeming to glide higher and higher. My stomach twisted and sunk within me, all of my organs scrambling together as the ground rushed away, and Akela wrapped both arms around my waist, swearing in Agadian, and then in Mesomium, for good measure. I laughed the lump out of my throat, catching my breath, air cooler and cooler around us, and the forest and the wall and Benkor became impossibly small, blurs on a landscape of endless green.
Oak continued his steady ascent until we were closer to the clouds than the ground, not wanting to risk being dragged back down for a second time. The sight of dragons overhead was far from uncommon in Kastelir, and had anyone craned their neck back to stare at the dark shape cutting across the clouds, they never would've seen anyone on Oak's back.
His wings joined his body where his shoulder blades were, just above my knees, and I wrapped my hands around the base of one, leaning over the side to see how far we'd come. The ground rushed by as though a map had been pulled from beneath us, and I couldn't remember ever enjoying fear so much. Akela's grasp on my waist loosened, but she kept one hand at my hip, and her startled curses turned to cheers.
Even on Oak's back, it wasn't a short journey. We were in the sky for so long that I was sure I'd forget how the ground felt beneath my feet, and eventually, my heart settled into a steady rhythm. Hours in and I thought Akela might fall asleep against my back. Oak had a vague idea of where he was headed, in the same way that I did; we both knew to head north-west, towards the centre of Kastelir, and when I thought we were drawing close, I looked out for the ravine cutting through Bosma behind Orinhal.
It was dark when we arrived. Weeks of travelling had flown by in no more a dozen hours, and we would've headed straight past Orinhal, if not for the fires burning within the city, torches lighting the streets.
They certainly weren't hiding from the Felheimish.
I held on tightly to Oak's scales as we descended, giving the city a wide-berth. The wind tore past us and Akela wrapped both arms around me, and we landed along the edge of the ravine, almost a mile from Orinhal. No doubt they'd have people watching the skies for dragons, and I didn't want to frighten the resistance; more than that, I didn't want to risk anything happening to Oak again.
“We are making it!” Akela declared, light-headed from the journey, and stumbled when she slipped off Oak's back. He swung out his tail, catching her, and Akela took an unsteady step forward, saying, “You are most kind, my Oaky friend. When the others are arriving, we are laughing. Not even Kouris is making the journey so quickly!”
I swung my leg over and jumped off, having more faith in my feet than Akela's, and stumbled forward as the ground pulled me down. Akela caught me, chuckled, and set me on my course to Oak's side. Lights moved in the distance – members of the resistance brandishing torches as they charged over on horseback – and I pressed my face between his eyes, closing my own.
“You can't stay with us, Oak. You know why, don't you?” I said, brushing my hand along his snout, fingertips grazing the hole in his jaw that hadn't healed over. “Go to Kyrindval. I think you remember where it is. The pane will look after you. And if you see my brother, make sure you give him a scare, alright?”
Oak pulled back, staring stubbornly at me, and Akela knocked a fist against one of his horns, saying, “Go! Go! Look, these people, they are on their way, and they are not as pleased to see you as we are.”
Puffing out a hint of smoke, Oak scampered back, looking between us one last time before picking up speed and launching himself into the sky. With my eyes fixed on him, I forgot about the people charging our way, and felt my stomach leave the ground as he did.
“Good evening!” Akela called as three riders approached, “If we are arriving at the wrong place, well, this is rather embarrassing! All of you, you are from the resistance, no?”
They circled us, horses walling us in, and a woman wearing a dragon-bone chest plate and a crudely carved helm stared down at Akela, frowning.
“Do you want to explain what you're doing out here, close to where a dragon just landed?” she asked, glancing my way to see if I'd be any more cooperative. “—you.”
Dismounting her horse, she pulled her helm off, pointed at me and said, “You! You.”
I opened and closed my mouth, pointing back.
“You...” I said. “You tried to kill me!”
“Right!” the woman said, far too pleased that I'd recognised her from that night in the forest, when she stood over me with her axe held high. “And you saved me. What the hell are you doing out here?”
“We came to join the resistance,” I explained, but Akela stood in front of me, arms folded across her chest.
She didn't have her axe with her, but knew she didn't need it. Not even against three armed soldiers.
“Excuse me, what is this we are saying? You are trying to kill Northwood? What is she ever doing to you!”
Placing a hand on Akela's shoulder, I eased her back, saying, “It was a long time ago, and I don't think it was anything personal. She was with the Felheimish, then.”
The explanation cleared absolutely nothing up for Akela, and she frowned at me more than she did the woman on the horse. Her two companions couldn't make much more sense of the situation, but they backed off, supposing that we were of no threat to them.
Another rider charged our way, calling out “Ash! Everyone who knows how to slay a dragon is stationed around the perimeter, what way did the—”
He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. Akela fixed her eyes on him, and once he was close, she pulled him clean off his horse. Ash reached for her weapon and I went to pull Akela off him, but she didn't tackle him to the ground. She held him up to her chest and he gripped at her shoulders, grinning, wrapping his arms around her neck when the surprise was too much for him.
“Goblin! Goblin, you little monster,” Akela said, squeezing him tightly. “You are alright, you really are. You are making us worry so much, I hope you are knowing this.”
She dropped him to the ground and Goblin gripped the side of her arm, saying, “Commander! We thought... you can imagine what we thought. Where have you been all this time?”
“That, hm, that is a very long story. I am thinking, while we are telling it, we are putting our feet up and having a drink, yes? Travelling by dragon is strangely exhausting, I feel as if I am the one flying all those miles, and I am wanting to tell you all about Canth before your father is getting the chance to!”
The method of Akela's arrival went straight over Goblin's head. He clung to her arm tighter, stared up at her desperately, and said, “... m-my father? He's with you?”
“Pssh,” Akela said, waving a hand. “He is taking the long way, yes, he is finding a horse and galloping all the way here. In two weeks, he is probably turning up, and by then, you are knowing all of the stories worth hearing!”
Goblin stepped back, bringing a fist to his chest, and I smiled, and not only because I was bearing witness to the good news he was getting. It was a rare day in Kastelir when something beyond reports of another razing reached people's ears, and I let him soak it in before lifting a hand and waving at him.
“Ah, Northwood, this is—”
“Galal,” I said. “I know. We've met before.”
He brought a hand to his forehead; it was all too much for one day, but only in the best sort of way. The last time I'd seen him, Isin had been burning and he'd been desperate for my help. I'd helped pull his husband from the wreckage, helped bring him back.
“Oh,” he said, rushing over to shake my hand. “Oh!”
“What is this?” Akela asked, looking to Ash for answers. “Northwood, I am not understanding how you are having time to know so many people.”
“Your husband, is he... ?” I asked.
“He's in Orinhal! Come, come, we should be getting back to the city. I take it there's no threat from that dragon?” Goblin asked, taking his horse by the reins. “You said you rode it here, didn't you? The Marshal will need to hear about that.”
Goblin caught Ash's eye and she nodded.
The other soldiers rushed back towards Orinhal ahead of us, letting those preparing for an attack know that there was nothing to fear, and the four of us headed towards the city together. It was too dark to see much of the outskirts, but I saw the vague shapes of what were fields where the forest abruptly ended, and though Orinhal hadn't been spared dragon's breath, the wall still stood, patched over and rebuilt in most places.
The resistance wasn't lacking in numbers. Dozens of soldiers worked the night shift, and once we were through the gate, I saw all that I couldn't from the sky. Orinhal had been razed to the ground, but a new city had been built on its ashes. More than a hundred tents were littered along the outskirts of the city – newcomers, Ash said – and beyond that, much of the forest had been sacrificed to build a maze of streets lined with log cabins.
Life resounded within the city. Light spilt from windows and people walked arm in arm through the streets. There was even a tavern, serving patrons out on the front patio, celebrating the fact that a dragon hadn't made short work of the city. Orinhal wasn't a make-shift base, a camp; the people had made it their home. The smell of grilled meat wafting out of a restaurant nearly caused me to falter, but Goblin and Ash didn't once break their stride, and Akela nudged me on.
I smiled at those I passed, feeling welcome already, and Goblin and Ash led us to a tower in the centre of the city. Calling it a tower was fairly generous: it was one of the few original buildings that remained, and all but the first two floors had been destroyed. In its past life, it had been a clock tower, and a clock had been hung over the arching double-doors to commemorate that.
Ash waited until I was in front of the doors to knock, and Goblin pulled one of them open for me.
I stepped into a dimly-lit office. The furnishings were sparse, save for half a dozen chairs stacked neatly in the corner, along with a bookcase full of undoubtedly important documents. A desk had been placed in the centre of the room, and a woman who looked like Claire sat behind it.
She was working with her head bowed, hands placed flat across the desk. She gripped the quill in her left hand, three fingers missing from the other, and she was so used to interruptions that she chose not to acknowledge me.
Candle-light flickered across her blonde hair, casting shadows across the contours of her face I couldn't quite make out. My hands trembled, light spilling through them, threatening to rush out of me with the force of so much blood thundering through my veins. I took a step forward, aware of every inch of the air I moved through, every fraction of every second that scraped by, and the woman relented and said, “What is it?” in Claire's voice.
The light shot up my arms, into my eyes.
The candles couldn't account for such a blinding flash, and the woman – Claire – looked up at me.
It wasn't true. Couldn't be. I could find my way back to Canth, find my father alive and well. I could slip back into Kastelir without a single problem, and I could bring a dragon back to something resembling life, flying across half a country in a matter of hours, but I couldn't do this. I couldn't step into a room and find Claire, alive, breathing. Living her life, moving through each and every day, existing outside of my memories.
I rubbed my fingers against my burning eyes, certain she'd fade.
She didn't.
I stared at her, breath tangled up in my chest, and saw that as I'd changed, Claire had too. It was her eyes that caught my attention first of all. One was as cold and blue as it had always been, but the other was covered in a milky film, pupil and iris impossible to tell apart. From it, a wave of burns spiralled across her face, covering all but the left side of her jaw, a sliver of her cheek. The burns had changed the shape of her mouth, changed the way shadows fell across her skin, and they spread down her neck, beneath the collar of her shirt, and came back out of her sleeves.
She rose, clutching the cane rested against the side of her desk. It tapped against the stone floor as she moved close, and then, all was quiet, all was calm. The beating of my heart was muted.
Our reactions were so slight, so subtle, that it would've been impossible to tell what we were to one another, unless told; and then it was all anyone could hope to see. The signs were there, scrawled all over us, written in an ink that wouldn't fade at the mercy of time or the elements. The words were etched into my skin, as unreadable as all others, but I made sense of them in what I saw reflected in her.
But the calm faded.
I was breathing, but not breathing. I was only exhaling, short and sharp, chest stinging with it, vision already blurred...
“I...” Claire said slowly, as though her jaw had been fused these past two years and she was learning speech all over again. “I thought you were dead.”
I covered my mouth, turning to the side, breathing loudly enough to deafen myself. All that I'd been put through – all that had been done to me – was nothing compared to this. I was standing in front of Claire, Claire who'd brushed her fingers through my hair, who'd taken me away from my old life, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I could only tremble, light claiming my body, heart trying to fold in on itself.
“Rowan,” she said gently, voice catching in her throat. Her hand came to rest between my shoulder blades, certain to break me. “Rowan, please. It's me.”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I fell heavily onto my knees, forehead hitting the floor. I'd needed her. I'd needed her when I was in chains, but now that I was in the room with her, I couldn't bring myself to look at her. If I did, if I kept my eyes on her for a moment longer, she'd fade.
This was another dream, another delusion. Someone – something – was doing this to me.
Claire knelt by my side, cane clattering on the floor next to her, and I couldn't believe she was there. I couldn't bear what it'd do to me when I came to and she wasn't with me.
I clutched at my sides, forehead scraping across the stone tiles, and there Claire's hand was, fingers gently brushing across the nape of my neck. I wanted them gone, gone. None of this was real, it couldn't be; but then a funny sort of thought worked its way into my mind. I remembered the time I'd exhausted myself healing the masses in Benkor and had gone to bed without a bite to eat; Claire had brought me bread. She'd barely known me, but she brought me bread.
That was Claire. This was Claire. This was Claire, she was here, she was here...
“Claire...” I murmured, turning my head to look at her.
She nodded, helping to ease me up. Knelt in front of her, I lit up every inch of her skin, and saw how every burn had twisted and gnarled her features. She reached out, placing her hands against my cheeks, wincing when she realised I felt the void left behind by her missing fingers. Not giving her the chance to look away, I threw myself against her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, threatening to never let go.
Claire's arms wrapped tightly around my back and I sobbed, clutching the back of her shirt.
“You're alive,” I said, tears soaking her shirt. “You're alive, you're...”
“Shh, shh,” she said, rocking me. “I'm here, Rowan.”
I cried until my head pounded and my body ached, light dimming but not fading. Claire didn't say a word about it – didn't say anything as I trembled in her arms – and when I looked up, I found her eyes red and watery.
“I really did think you were dead,” she whispered. “All this time, Rowan...”
I brought my hands up, pressing them to the sides of her neck. She closed her eyes as the burns brushed beneath my palms, rough like old, misshapen leather. I ran a thumb across the line of her jaw, and she kept her eyes shut, biting her lower lip. How certain she must've been to believe a necromancer dead.
“What happened, Claire?” I asked, as though either of us wanted to dredge up the past.
“I... I realised you were right, Rowan. I couldn't have taken on the dragons myself. I had slain three, and though I was not unharmed, they had not...” Pausing to take a breath, Claire let go to me to gesture at herself. “I tried to find you. Tried to leave the city. But there were still those needing help, and buildings were tumbling all around us. I became trapped underneath one for days. My armour prevented me from being crushed entirely, but the flames were relentless.”
I should've been there. Should've held myself together after I'd killed the dragon and gone back for her.
“It was Kidira who saved me. She pulled me from the rubble and took me to Kyrindval,” Claire concluded after a moment.
“Kidira? Queen Kidira's alive?” I asked, and she nodded. “Kouris and Akela... they'll be happy.”
Claire's lips parted, forming a silent oh, and she said, “They're... ?”
“They're alive! I came here with Akela, and Atthis and Kouris are on their way,” I said.
“That's... I'm glad to hear that.”
It was too much to take in at once. The burns made it difficult for Claire to smile, but she tried, lips twitching before slipping back into something more neutral. Any good news was negated by the years missing between us, and all I could think of were the long days she'd spent beneath that building, fire lapping at her skin.
“I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should've been. I wanted to find you, Claire, but...”
“What happened?” Claire asked, needing answers as badly as I did. “Galal said... he said he last saw you with Kouris, facing a dragon. I searched for you, Rowan. Once I was healed enough to move of my own accord, I searched for you, but it was futile. I went to every shelter that had been set up, every camp, and yet... we held a memorial, almost a year ago, for those we'd lost. I—where were you, Rowan?”
“Claire...” I breathed jaggedly, lengths of iron grinding between my ribs, piercing my lungs to know that all I had felt – the certainty of her death, the absence of her in the world – had echoed within her own chest. How heartless I had been to console myself by thinking I meant nothing to her. “Canth. I was in Canth.”
That was it. Two years reduced to a single word.
She repeated it, closed her eyes and brought a hand to her forehead. I smoothed my hands across her shoulders and belatedly realised the floor wasn't the best place to beat our hearts against. I rose slowly, holding out a hand, and Claire picked her cane back up, struggling to rise to her feet.
“Can we sit somewhere?” I asked, glancing at the chairs.
My legs were more unsteady than they'd been upon leaving Oak's back, and Claire tilted her head towards the staircase leading up to the next level. She went ahead, gripping the banister as tightly as her cane, taking them one at a time. She paused with every step, teeth grit, and though I could tell it was causing her pain, I could feel nothing of the injury she'd suffered. I'd been gone for too long and her crushed leg had settled into a new shape.
Claire had made her home on the top floor. A small table with two chairs sat in one corner with a bed opposite it, and on the other side of the room, a dresser and wardrobe were pressed against the wall. Her dragon-bone armour hung from a stand between them. The breastplate was scuffed, and while one of the hollow legs was crushed, none of it showed a hint of the fire that had rushed over Claire.
Books lined a shelf, and I thought of my bag with Claire's things stowed safely inside. I brought a hand to my shoulder but it was gone; left on the floor downstairs, most likely.
Gripping the wall, Claire lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, laying her cane across the covers. I paced back and forth, feeling her eyes on me, uncertain how I'd brought myself to look away. The light was rising and rising within me, no matter how seeing Claire ought to have extinguished all that raged within, for I could feel futile trying to find a way to make this all right was.
“Rowan?” she said when I didn't slow.
I shook my head and kept moving. I grasped for words and none of them were big enough. Nothing that came to mind could express all I'd suffered in two years, how I'd spent every day wishing I'd been stronger; wishing I'd gone back for her.
“Start at the beginning,” Claire suggested softly.
The beginning. Hours – minutes – after I'd last seen her.
“Goblin was right. He saw me and Kouris facing a dragon,” I said, staring at the spot where a mirror should've hung above her dresser. “But I killed it. I reached out and it died. I didn't know I could do that; I wasn't trying to do that. I just didn't want to die like that.”
“You killed a dragon,” she murmured, not surprised or sceptical; merely awed, as though she'd never done the same herself. “And then... ?”
“I wanted to go back to you. I wanted to wipe out the other dragons, but it was too much. I wasn't strong enough, Claire. It was like something in my head snapped. I remember bleeding and bleeding and passing out. I couldn't use my legs for weeks after that. Kouris carried me out of Isin, but no matter where we went, there were dragons.
“Akela was with us. We kept moving south, helping those we could, but... but then we were at the coast. There was nowhere else to go, and there was only one ship left, so we took it to Canth. We were only meant to dock for a few weeks, to wait it out, but...”
“But the Felheimish army closed the ports,” Claire concluded.
She tilted her head forward, eyes on the floor, and ran a hand through her hair, brushing it back. I let her absorb the information as best she could, not yet ready to tell her how I'd earnt our passage pack. My mind had been rent in two: on one side were my memories of Canth, of the adventures I'd had, the things I'd seen and the people I'd come to know, and on the other side were all the things I could express to Claire. Each half felt as hollow as the other.
“Queen Nasrin helped us back,” I managed. “I thought about coming back to Asar every day, Claire. I didn't know what I was going to find here, didn't know what I could do to help, but you have to believe that I wanted to be back, to...”
Claire looked up, catching my gaze, and shoulders slumping, I let myself be pulled towards her. I knelt in front of her, hands on her knees, and she placed a hand on the back of my head.
“I thought you were dead,” I whispered, resting my head in her lap. “I thought I'd never see you again, and I couldn't stop missing you, no matter what I did or where I went.”
She hummed softly, fingers trailing through my hair, I only moved to ensure my weight wasn't pressed against her bad leg.
“I spent a lot of time in Kyrindval, healing to the best of my ability. I have been Marshal here for almost a year. Much has happened, and I... I understand. I understand that it is not easy to reflect on, or articulate, but I understand.”
I lifted my head and she eased me up, guiding me to the spot on the bed next to her. I reached for her hand but she pulled it away, finger and thumb curling towards her palm. I gripped my wrist to stop my hands from wandering again, and Claire turned her head from me when she felt my eyes on her. With her head turned, I could see that her ear had been pinned back, fused to her skull with heat.
“There weren't any healers... ?” I asked weakly.
“No,” she said bluntly, teeth grinding together. “I don't suppose that you could—”
“I'm sorry. The scars are too old. I'd only make it worse,” I said, hands covering my stomach.
“Ah.”
An uneasy quiet gripped the room, whispering that we'd already said all there was to say. Inches and years divided us, and I knew that Claire wasn't the woman I'd once known; I wasn't the person she remembered. It wasn't fair. I had her back and it still wasn't fair. I wanted to claw the months back and make everything right, for what use was I to her now? My powers were worthless, my frustration even more so, and had I washed her scars away, I knew it wouldn't change anything.
I pressed my hands to the sides of my head, trembling.
“Rowan,” Claire said, still needing to repeat my name, to convince herself I was real.
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. She was still Claire, she was still Claire, I reminded myself; it was simply too much at once. I'd feel better in the morning. In a week. When I'd had time to sleep and understood all that had unfolded in my absence.
I reached up, brushing my fingertips against her hand. She sucked in a breath but didn't pull it back, remaining still and steady as I ran my fingers across knuckles that led nowhere.
“... you're glowing,” she stated, after a while. “I read something of the sort, but I took it to be mere metaphor. Is this the result of pushing your limits against the dragon?”
I tensed in her arms and she eased me back, trying to catch my eye. The truth would find its own way out, eventually. It wouldn't take forever for Katja to reach Orinhal, and all that had happened to Claire was so brazenly on display. She needed to know that I didn't want to keep things from her, not even after all this time.
“Someone hurt me,” I said, faced buried in her shoulder. “... Katja. But I don't want to talk about it. Not yet.”
It took all she had not to lash out with her words, to demand to know what had happened. She tensed, wrapped her arms tighter around me, and all I wanted was for it to all stop. For the world to still and for everything to tumble into the void, my thoughts included. In a sense, I knew that everything had been leading to this point, and now that I was here, I had no idea what my next step ought to be.
My eyelids grew heavy, and Claire's lips atop my head made it all the easier for me to slip away, trapped in a dreamless slumber.
*
I awoke with my head in Claire's lap. She ran her fingers through my hair as I stirred, disturbed by the sun filtering in through the window and feet stomping below. My vision was hazy but I could tell my skin had dulled, and the footsteps making their way up the stairs were impossibly loud. I scrunched my face up, trying to rid myself of the sensation of being held underwater.
“O-oh,” came a voice too soft to match the pounding of feet I'd heard. “I'm sorry, Marshal. I'll go, shall I? I'm sorry, I really am, I...”
I bolted upright, greeted by a pane staring down at the tray of food she'd brought. The first thing I noticed about her – the first thing anyone noticed about her – was the scarring across the right side of her forehead, where a horn ought to be. The other curled back, not quite as long as Kouris', though the pane was far taller. Bright red hair contrasted against her pale skin, and if pane could blush, she would've.
“I didn't realise you had company,” she went on to say, and the voice really was hers. It was verging on melodic, with how gentle it was.
“It's fine, Sen,” Claire said, reaching blindly for her cane. “Sen, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my maid, Sen.”
“Rowan... ?” Sen asked, repeating my name before processing it. I caught her eye and she looked away, fangs worrying into her upper lip. I took a step back, lest I was too close for her liking, and she dared to glance between me and Claire, eyes an unsteady shade of gold. “It's nice to meet you, Rowan.”
“You too, Sen,” I said, holding out a hand. The fact that I'd offered it made her skittish, and she reached out slowly, tentatively taking it in her own without looking directly at me.
A day ago, I would've been convinced that if I ever saw Claire again, nothing could tear me from her side. Now, I was ashamed of how eager I was to leave. I came up with a dozen excuses for her; she had things to attend to, and I'd only get in the way; she needed time to process this, as I too did; she needed to clear things up with Sen, to start making sense of it all; and I inched towards the stairs.
“I should find Akela,” I blurted out.
“Indeed,” Claire said, holding out an arm for Sen to help her up.
I watched as Claire grimaced to stand straight again, body aching with the strain of moving after having sat for so long, and I realised one thing hadn't changed.
She hadn't got any sleep.
I left without another word, found my bag on the floor, and snatched it up, feeling like a thief as I shouldered the doors open. I was a thief, taking Claire's things with me. I moved quickly, not stopping to take in my surroundings, and it didn't take me long to find Akela. All I had to do was follow the sound of an axe cracking something in two.
She was by Orinhal's wall, making herself useful. Dozens of logs were stacked in a pile, and Goblin sat atop one of them, watching Akela as she made short work of the wood. He caught sight of me first, tilted his head my way, and Akela lowered her axe to the ground and rushed over.
“It is true?” she asked. “Ightham, she is alive?”
“She is,” I said, hearing awe seep into my voice. “She's alive. Claire's alive.”
Akela beamed for me, but I couldn't fix my eyes on anything in particular. Akela's face and Goblin's face blurred together, and there were too many people around me making far too much noise. It roared between my ears and finally, I caught sight of the axe, blade glinting against stone.
“I want to help,” I said. “I want to help, so...”
Bemused, Akela took a step back and handed me the axe. She swept an arm out, proudly displaying the wood she'd already cut down to size, and I understood what I needed to do. I stepped in front of the log she was working on, lifted the axe above my head and gripped it so tightly that there was no room to tremble. With one swift, vicious motion, I brought it down, chopping the wood clean in two.
“Almost as good as the Commander!” Goblin cheered, and a curious sort of heat crept over me.
There hadn't been any relief in the motion.
I swung the axe again and again, not caring to cut the wood cleanly; not caring to strike it at all. The whole world could be splinters, for all I cared, and the thock of the wood being struck over and over was the only thing louder than the blood pounding in my ears. I brought the axe down one final time, blade getting caught in the wood, not releasing when I tried to pull it back. I stumbled, dully aware that someone had been calling my name with every swing of the blade, and landed hard against Akela's chest.
She pulled me close, murmuring, “It is alright, it is alright. Claire, she is alive,” as I trembled.
Staring down at the mangled log, I murmured something about having to use it as firewood.