Page 92 of He Who Ignites The Flame
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THALIA
“You all right?” Micah asked, and I blinked, realizing my quill had lingered in one place for too long, leaving droplets of ink on the parchment.
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. I set my quill aside before grabbing a fresh piece of parchment to begin again. The list of names was too short, far shorter than it should be.
Micah eyed me wearily, and I rolled my neck, feeling the tension release with each pop. “I’ll be all right.”
He hesitated a moment, his lips parting and closing before he finally said, “You turned Lucia and Damien down for the promotion.”
“Heard about that did you?” I muttered, returning to the writing in the names, each weighing heavier on my soul. The list from our last census done a couple of years ago was laid out on the table for reference, notations and scribbles marked along it to modify our records.
Alive.
Deceased.
Missing.
As I scrolled through the seemingly endless list, my attention snagged on a particular name.
Marcus Blackwood. Deserter. April 13th, 1886
It had been a few years since his disappearance. The fallout had been disastrous—he’d been so lost in his sorrow after Vivienne’s death. I still remembered how he’d looked when he’d walked out on Damien and Lucia. He’d been different, as if the friend we’d known for decades was no longer there.
“There’s nothing wrong with turning down a position,” Micah said, as if to reason with me, and I blinked, pulled from thoughts of Marcus. “I’m just surprised you did is all.”
My shoulders sagged. The guilt had been eating at me since she’d asked. “You should have seen the look on her face, though.”
Her eyes were distant, as if looking far beyond the garden outside her window as she whispered, so low I almost couldn’t hear, “Not enough time.”
I tilted my head to get a better look at her. “Lucia?”
She blinked, as if drawn from a dream, and then she looked back at me. “Apologies. I summoned you here.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, laying a hand atop hers. Her skin didn’t feel warm enough, her hands clammy despite the summer’s waning heat. “Are you all right? Should I call the midwives or a healer?”
She shook her head. “Just the usual exhaustion. I won’t keep you, though, I know you’re busy.”
“My work isn’t going anywhere. Whatever you need of me, all you have to do is ask.”
“I want to you take Zephyr’s place as Taxiarchos.”
I froze, my skin turning icy and hot as my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. “What?”
She bit her lip, the inner corners of her brows curving upward. “I don’t mean to blindside you with it, but I have decided to step down as Strategos, and while Zephyr will be taking my place as Damien’s second in command, I need someone to fill his ro?—”
“I can’t,” I blurted, my heart racing as memories of all those who had died in The Pits under my watch flooded my mind in a destructive wave.
She hesitated, her eyes widening a fraction before lowering, and slowly, a soft smile curved her lips as her gaze fell to the floor. “I had hoped for a different outcome, but I should have known.”
“I’m so sorry, I just...” She lifted her weary eyes to me, and I loathed myself so much in that moment. “I can’t bear the thought of being responsible for so many lives. Never again.”
Micah let out a sigh. “You’ve done enough.”
“She’sdone enough,” I retorted, unable to look up from the parchment, unable to swallow the guilt as I reconsidered my decision forwhat felt like the millionth time. I had hardly slept in the nights since she’d asked, haunted by her disappointment. “She’s sacrificed so much more than any of us could even come close to.”
“I can’t believe she’s stepping down,” he said, all productivity halting as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Is it to be with the babe?”
