Page 134 of Red Demon
Ice whipped at my sweat-soaked tunic as I jogged through the night, the edges of the sky paling. Istaran glowed in my hands and Oria pulsed under the snow, guiding my crunching steps to Galen’s killer.
I knew she heard me coming, but she didn’t rise from her curled heap, cradled by the eroded roots of an alder beside a frozen river. Her anemic campfire smoked more than glowed when she finally sat up, the bruises on her face unhealed despite my ribs no longer aching with each breath. Maybe she was too cold and weak to heal, maybe this was like her scars, a choice to ensure she remembered her crimes when the sun rose. Faruhar’s eyes focused on me, weak.
“Have you even slept yet?” I brought Istaran’s light closer to see her face. She shrank back.
“You’ve come to kill me?” She didn’t go for her weapon. She could have, in the time it took her to say that.
Sheathing my blade, I sank beside her, keeping my movements slow so as not to spook her. “I brought your bag.” She flinched when I set it down in front of her, the worn canvas dark against the snow. I waited for her eyes to calm. They didn’t.
Watching her shivering form, those swollen yellow-green eyes, I reminded myself of every innocent person she’d killed. Telesilla, about twenty rebels, and about as many terrified women huddling in that prison, winking out whatever hope they’d clung to, the life they deserved to rebuild. I knew my path, to let the timbers of my life burn down, collapsing to white-knuckled ash. My foundation held as always, and I would rebuild on what remained.
Silence—heavy as the winter clouds and the blanketed forest. The silver river beside us sparkled and whispered while the smoky tendrils of fire grasped for more fuel.
“You’re cold.” When she didn’t respond, I went to gather kindling, my voice rough with the effort of wrangling so many thoughts I didn’t have words for. Faruhar sat numb where I left her, staring into the night.
Once I fed the fire to a crackle, I rolled out my camp blanket on the other side, far from a tangle of uncomfortable roots she’d been curled among. I gestured for her to join me, opening the cloak that could cover us both.
Fear flickered in her eyes, confusion at my outstretched hand. “Why are you here?”
“Let’s get a little sleep, Far.” I swallowed. “We’ll talk things through in the morning.” Sleep would unravel my grief. I needed to build strength to face this.
Hesitant, she stood, and her hands were frigid when I pulled her in, her back to my chest. Without thinking, I kissed her hair, tasting blood and dirt. I bit back the confusing mix of comfort and disgust, wondering whose blood it was as I drifted off to sleep, feeling the vibrations of her ragged sobs against my bruised chest.
The winter sky dawned pink and pale, too cold for birdsong. I settled into her, holding her closer, until Faruhar tore herself away. First she went to the bag to flick through the journal, the snow crunching under her boots like glass as she angled down the riverbank.
With bleary eyes, I watched her break off the ice and strip off her shirt, scrubbing off blood and grime in the cold water with bared teeth. She shivered into clean, dry pants when I made my way down the bank to sit beside her.
“Morning,” I said, my voice thick with sleep.
She stopped scrubbing to glare at me in silence. Just the gurgling river and the rustle of wind through dead leaves.
“Did Bria already fill you in?” I asked. “We shouldn’t stay here long. The Underground is hunting us.”
She paused, her back to me, dipping her dirty pants into icy water, staining it red with every scrub.
“Bria is more broken than before,” Faruhar said, voice flat. “She defended me against the Underground, that chout…” Her eyes fell under the shadow of dark clouds. “She just keeps repeating the same non-sensible things over and over again. Something about three paths merging. There’s so little of her left.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, clenching my eyes tight. I knew Bria would have done everything she could to reach Faruhar before she killed innocent people. Even she had been powerless to call her back.
Faruhar carried her guilt; I’d never hated her as much as she hated herself. I understood this now.
“You still have me,” I said, unwavering. “You’ll always have me.”
She froze at that, eyes wide like the pain of a mortal wound. “No.”
I settled with my back against a tree. “I’m stubborn, remember?” My smile died in the air between us.
Three quick breaths, eyes roving back to her bag by the remains of the fire.
“Far. Calm down. You’re safe—”
She laughed in my face. “Safe? Do you think you are safe anywhere near me?”
“Far,” I said, desperation seeping into my voice. “When I’m around, things are fine. If Bria injured herself, you need me more than ever. We’ll stay on the run together, maybe get you on a ship to a bigger island, somewhere with more places to hide. I’ll keep you from hurting anyone. This will never happen again.”
Her gaze met mine, a storm swirling in her heaving breaths. “After we defeated Mahakal, you said you wanted a normal, boring life with the family you have left. With Asher, with Mira.” A sob escaped her lips, raw. “Do you still want to know what I want? You promised to help me get it, remember?”
I nodded.
