Page 273 of The Ascended
The thought sent a chill through me. How many secrets had we spilled, thinking ourselves safe in empty rooms?
"So," Marx said, leaning against the balcony rail. "I see you had some revelations since our last conversation."
There was no accusation in her voice, but I felt defensive anyway. I touched her wrist, a silent warning, then leaned close enough that my lips nearly brushed her ear.
"We need to be careful," I breathed, my voice softer than a sigh. Even Marx, standing inches away, had to strain to hear me. "I can hear everything. Which means they always could."
Understanding flickered in her eyes. When she responded, she matched my volume, speaking directly into my ear in return.
"Shit," she whispered.
"Yeah." I kept my voice at that same near-silent level. "We were lucky. Or maybe they just didn't care enough to listen."
Marx's expression darkened at the implications. We stood in silence for a moment. Then she shifted closer, her voice still at that barely-there whisper.
"Well, they're definitely listening now. Especially after what you just pulled in there." She took another drink from her goblet to cover the movement of her lips. "Sundralis, Thais? Really?"
“Yeah…” I murmured. “Thatcher?—”
"I get it," she continued before I could defend myself. "Family first. Always has been with you."
"It's not just that." I struggled to articulate the impulse that had driven my choice. "It's... I don't know. Something feels wrong here. Thatcher told me before that there was light everywhere, yet it feltwrong. Now that I’m here, I see what he meant. It’s like it's heavy, pressing down on me."
"I figured it was supposed to be like that."
"Maybe." I stared out at the perfect gardens. "I intend to find out."
Marx nodded, accepting this without question. It was one of the things I'd come to value about her—she didn't need every detail explained, didn't demand justifications for my decisions. She simply trusted that I had my reasons.
"I'm going to miss you," she said suddenly, the words coming out in a rush.
I turned to her, squinting.
"Don't look so shocked," she muttered. "I'm allowed to have feelings, you know. Occasionally. When no one's looking."
"I'm going to miss you too," I admitted, the truth easier to offer Marx than almost anyone else. "Who else is going to call me on my bullshit?"
"Thatcher?"
"He's too nice."
"Xül, then."
My face burned before I could stop it.
Marx's eyebrows shot up. "New developments?"
"Nothing. Everything." I sighed, staring into my goblet. "I guess he’s going to call off the wedding."
Marx choked on her drink. "He's what?"
"Yes." The word still didn't feel real, even as I spoke it.
Marx studied my face with new intensity. "That's... big. Like, realm-shattering big."
"I know."
"Well, fuck." She drained her goblet in one long swallow. "I wonder how that will affect… things."
