Page 421 of Alchemised
“Here.” Her voice came out thin, wavering.
In an instant, Kaine was there in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed several times before she could speak. “I thought I would be glad to get here, but—what if they catch us? What if someone finds us because we’ve stopped running?”
His eyebrows furrowed as he ran his thumb across her cheek. “Do you want to keep running?”
Her stomach threatened to upend at the thought of more ships and new places and never stopping, always looking over her shoulder. “No, but why does everything feel wrong? Like it’s not even real. This is what we wanted.”
He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. “I don’t think that an ordinary life will ever feel real for either of us.”
Exhausted despair tore at her as she realised that he was right. “I think I always saw running away as the destination. I never actually thought about what would be left of me by the time I got here.”
She stayed there, numb at the realisation.
“Do you like the house?” he finally asked.
She looked around the room, trying to rally herself. “I do. How did you manage this?”
“It was mostly by correspondence. You talked about the sea, so I started looking before the war was over. I thought it would be easier for you, if you were going somewhere you liked.”
“Just me. In this big house?” She said it lightly, but she was horrified at the idea.
“Lila was part of the arrangement by then. I came here briefly last summer. It was one of my last trips,” he said quietly. “Before that, I’d just sent things along as I thought of something I thought you’d like.”
She looked around again. All this, while he hadn’t even known if she was alive.
“Come on now. You’ll like it better once you’ve rested.”
He closed the shutters, and Helena collapsed in bed. The linens were soft and airy from the sea breeze, and it was like coming home. Kaine sat beside her, their fingers enlaced, his thumb running along the ridges of her knuckles. There was an odd pause each time he reached the last two, and she couldn’t feel the sweep of his fingers.
She was starting to drift off when he set her hand down.
She watched through her lashes as he walked slowly around the room, kneeling and running his fingers along the floor, then going over to the walls, peering appraisingly up into the corners of the room. He started towards the door, footsteps so light that they made no sound.
“Kaine.”
He froze and turned back.
“Are we safe?”
His fingers spasmed, and he clenched them into a fist. “Yes … There’s a few things I’d like to adjust … but we were careful. I doubt anyone looking could have moved fast enough to beat the tides. You don’t need to worry.”
“Do you need to worry?”
He looked baffled by the question. She held out her hand.
“We’re supposed to get to rest now,” she said. “You and me both. I didn’t bring you here so you’d have to keep soldiering on.”
His eyes flicked around the room, and he suddenly looked boyish and uncertain.
She studied him sadly, realising their difference: He didn’t have any dreams about what he’d do or be after the war. He had never even allowed for the possibility. He had no idea how to do anything but be a soldier.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“Stay with me,” she said. “You’re supposed to rest now, too.”
He nodded as if he understood the idea conceptually, but he stayed standing by the door. She went to him, taking him by the hand. She found a surprising number of unusual weapons hidden in his plain-looking clothes, and he was wearing body armour beneath them, which she hadn’t even realised he’d brought.
