Page 316 of Alchemised
“This is all my fault, though,” she said. “I did this to you. I made you like this. Someone should regret that, and you can’t. But if I do—maybe that will be enough to make you stop someday.”
He looked away and said nothing. She watched his fingers move across hers, wishing she could feel it.
“What’s happening in the city?” she asked.
He was silent for a few seconds. “Althorne’s dead. There were several units trapped in one of the buildings; they got them out, but he died during the retreat. From our estimates, the Resistance has lost at least half their active forces. We retook the ports two days ago.”
There was nowhere for the despair of that information to go but to lance into her mind. No twisting horror in her gut; no sense of emptiness. She could not feel her body. She could only think.
“There has been considerable backlash to the bombing, though. They didn’t expect the dust to contaminate both islands. There’s been panic and outrage over the widespread loss of resonance, the hospitals are overwhelmed with patients needing chelators, and the death toll for the Resistance, while significant, has provided us almost no new necrothralls because Durant forgot that the nullification compound would interfere with reanimation. They have to pump fresh blood into the corpses to reanimate them. So I doubt it will happen again. At least not on that scale.”
A paltry source of comfort, but it was something.
“I don’t know what to do,” she finally said. “I can’t ignore a threat to the Eternal Flame.”
He sighed, head dipping. “I was just angry.”
“You’re always angry, but you can’t make threats like that or reduce a war like this into a simplistic blame game. And you can’t hold the Resistance hostage to control me.”
His shoulders slumped. “If you die, Helena, I’m done. I won’t continue this. I’m tired.”
He looked at her, and she could see the whole war in his eyes, the toll that came from struggling with no end in sight, driven by a terror of what might happen if he ever stopped.
“I mean it. I won’t kill them—but I will be done. You are my terms of service. The contract is void if you die.”
She managed to turn her head a little. “There is a life for you on the other side of this war. You have the Stone. If Morrough dies, you might be fine, and you’d be free. You could do—all sorts of things. Don’t reduce your world to me.”
His lip curled, a flash of teeth. “Oh, and do you have a list of post-war plans that you’ve forgotten to mention?”
She averted her eyes. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
He laced their fingers together as they lapsed into a silence as empty as the future.
“You could—become a healer,” she finally said, straining to feel the sensation of his hand against hers.
A smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“You should. You have a talent for it—although your bedside manner is terrible.”
“It would be something to balance out that death toll of mine,” he said, not looking at her.
“I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not your fault.”
He shook his head, staring at the wall. “Maybe that was true once, but I believe I own it all now.”
She swallowed, willing her fingers to move so she could squeeze his hand. “You are so much more than what the war has done to you.”
Her voice shook with conviction, but he still wouldn’t look at her.
“You are,” she said desperately. “Just—just like I am. There’s more to both of us—it’s just waiting to get out. Someday, we’ll leave all this behind. Go far away, and you’ll see. The two of us—I think we could.”
He made no answer, but she dimly felt his fingers grip hers tighter.
“I promise—you’ll see …” Her eyelids began to droop.
“Go to sleep. You have a long recovery ahead of you.”
She resisted, trying to stay awake. “How long have I been here?”
