Page 125 of Alchemised
STANDING IN THE CORRIDOR OUTSIDE, Helena looked down at herself.
Except for the clean gloves she’d pulled on as she left the hospital, she was covered in blood.
The file slipped from her fingers onto the floor, and she clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from keening as her chest started to heave.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “Not here. Sweet fire, you’re a dunce.”
She was guided, blindly, down the hallway into the adjoining corridor before being let go. She sagged against the wall, sliding to the floor, head pressed against her knees as she sobbed until her head felt hollow.
She looked up at Soren, who stood a foot away, leaning against the wall, watching her with his deep-set eyes.
If he was here, it meant Luc must be back, too. He must have crashed from exhaustion if they’d run the meeting without him.
Soren shook his head. “You should have cried before you went in for your report, unless you were betting on Ilva forgiving you for reasons of temporary insanity.”
“Shut up,” she said, shrinking smaller, her chest hitching.
“You could’ve at least washed up if you wanted to be taken seriously.”
“Shut—up,” she said again.
“You knew it wasn’t going to work,” he said, folding his arms. “You had to have known. They’re never, ever, ever in a million years going to approve using necromancy on our soldiers. Or on anyone not our soldiers, before you get any other ideas.”
She pulled her knees tight against her chest. “You have no idea what it’s like in the hospital.”
“No, I don’t,” Soren said in a flat voice, “and neither does anyone else in there, so I don’t know why you thought screaming at them while looking like that would change their minds.”
She was too tired to argue.
“You know what your problem is?”
Helena said nothing. He’d tell her whether she wanted him to or not. He’d always possessed all the sharp edges and wariness that Luc lacked.
“You don’t have faith in the gods.”
“Yes, I do,” she said quickly.
“No. You don’t. You think you do because you think they probably exist, but that’s not faith. You don’t trust them.”
“Why would I? They haven’t done anything to deserve being trusted,” she said, her voice thick. “I’ve tried everything, Soren. I try to believe, but it’s never enough. Even if I did really believe—if my soul’s the price of saving you, of saving everyone”—she choked—“that’s not a price. That’s a bargain.”
He dropped into a squat in front of her so that their faces were almost level. “That doesn’t matter, though. They’ll never agree. No one will. You’re just hurting yourself.”
She looked down. “Then we’re going to lose,” she said in a dull voice. “And I’m going to be the one who puts you back together, over and over, until I have to watch you die instead. And we still won’t win.”
Soren gave a heavy sigh. “I’m guessing no one told you, but this battle was actually quite the victory for us.”
She should have felt something at this news, but she was empty. “Whether you win a battle or lose it, all I see is the cost.”
“Just figured you’d want to know, because Luc thinks it’s a sign that things are finally taking a turn.”
Helena felt as if her chest had caved in.
“Don’t take that from him. Please.”
She nodded silently. Soren rested a hand on her shoulder. She could tell he wanted to say something else, but he just stood up instead.
“We’re back for a few days. I’m sure we’ll see you around. You should clean up and get some sleep. You need it.”
