Page 29 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
The reminder of what Tira’s lost hits me like a slap, and I can’t share Tira’s joy as she comes over to hug me.
“On your feet already,” she comments, looking me over. “I knew the Temple couldn’t knock the stuffing out of you that easily.”
“Tira…” I don’t know where to begin, and my friend’s face falls. She might not know what I’m here to say, but she can read me well enough to know that it’s bad.
“Let’s sit down,” she says, taking me over to the chairs by the table as Leon steps outside, giving us privacy.
Once we’re seated, I look up into her nervous face, trying to find the words.
“Tira, when I was at the high temple…” I trail off again, hating myself for doing this. For taking from her more than has already been taken. But she deserves to know.
“Whatever it is, do you have to talk about it now?” Tira takes my hand. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
But her trying to comfort me only makes me feel more terrible.
“I need to talk about it. I won’t be able to rest until I do.”
She’s afraid. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to say the words. To sayhisname.
“When I was at the high temple, Caledon tried to get information out of me—about the Hand, about my powers. The clerics tortured me, and when that wasn’t enough to break me, he ordered them to bring someone in. It was…” I go to dig my fingernail into my palm, something I’ve always done to steel myself…but of course, most of my fingernails are gone, torn away by pliers. It may be months before they grow back completely. I swallow hard and just say it. “It was Kit.”
Her hand squeezes mine like a vise, cutting off the blood.
“He didn’t die in the purge?” she gasps.
“No, he didn’t.” My throat grows tighter with every word. “They kept him alive, and imprisoned.”
A sob breaks free from her, and she releases my hand, clutching her throat instead.
“Dad? My mom?” she says, and I know what she’s asking. I shake my head.
“There was no sign of them, and he never said their names. I think it was just your brother.”
Tears are flooding my eyes, making her look blurry.
“What happened?” she asks, trembling. “Is he…?”
All I can do is shake my head, and her head drops for just a beat before she looks up again, an awful understanding in her eyes. She knows what’s coming.
“Caledon drained him to try to force me to cooperate. I’m so sorry, Tira. I?—”
I choke on my words, unable to tell her the truth.I killed him. I slit his throat.
Would she understand? Could she ever forgive me? I don’t even know if it was the right thing to do myself. Was I really being merciful, or was I being selfish, choosing the option that was easier on me?
“I couldn’t save him,” I finish. I’m disgusted by my own cowardice, but I tell myself it’s better she doesn’t know the terrible details.
Tira says nothing but reaches out, and I hold her as she leans into me, her whole body shaking as she weeps.
“Of course, I already believed he was dead,” she whispers, in between sharp inhalations. “But that doesn’t make losing him a second time any easier.”
“I know,” I say. What else is there? I’m relieved when she doesn’t ask me any more questions. I feel sick even just thinking about describing the scene—telling her how he looked, how he suffered. I want to protect her from it all, and I selfishly want to protect myself from reliving it.
Eventually, Tira asks to be alone, and once I’m in the corridor, Leon guides me back to our room. I feel like I’m sleepwalking—like nothing is quite real. When we’re inside, I lean against the closed door, shutting my eyes and trying to ground myself. I can feel Leon close to me, not with any of my ordinary senses but with that strange new awareness from the location spell.
I focus on it now, finding the thud of his heart, steady as a drumbeat. It soothes me, making me feel like I can breathe again.
“I couldn’t help but hear most of that,” Leon’s low voice rumbles. “I understand there were things you didn’t want to tell Tira. But you can tell me.”
