Page 10 of Guiding Reason
Without another word, Col put a hand on Hyran’s firm chest and stepped across the threshold to the bathroom alone before sliding the bathroom door closed behind himself. Once there, he was exhausted. He wanted to sleep, he wanted everything to stop hurting. He wanted to be home. The nondescript bathroom with the highly dirt resistant servi-floor in the dullest shade of white imaginable felt as far from home as Col had ever been. He hated it.
Pull yourself together. One step at a time.
He started by brushing his teeth, going through the routine twice. That was a huge improvement. The shower wasn’t as easy a prize to be had, given he still had the IV in his arm and couldn’t take the unflattering clinic shirt off.
“Can’t wash my hair with this bandage either. Fuck me.”
Really, it wasn’t all that bad, not a reason for desperation at all, but Col found himself sitting on the shower stool they used for people who couldn’t stand and just crying.
It wasn’t the pain, and it wasn’t the battle at Starlit Stage. It wasn’t really even that he had lost Senlas, sort of, because he was happy for Senlas and Orrey both. He definitely wasn’t crying for Karmine, for Karmine’s damaged eyesight, or for all the pain the Guardian had tolerated and suffered through. The tears weren’t for the mother whose face he didn’t remember, but whose voicehe had missed, ever since they had left Thistletown.I wish I could have hugged her. I wish she’d been there. I’m so selfish.
The sobs soon made his chest heave and came out in ugly squawks. It hurt, crying like that. It was unnecessary and embarrassing, and Col wanted it to stop.
“Coldis?” Hyran knocked. “What’s the matter?”
“Fine,” Col said, the word half smothered by the hand he kept over his mouth.
There was a thump at the door as if Hyran had slapped his palm against it. “I’m sorry,” Col heard, and then the door slid open.
The moment Hyran laid eyes on him, the Guardian turned into the caricature of a frightened vookas lizard, eyes wide, mouth open and teeth showing.
“Are you—what’s wrong?”
Hyran came right over, kneeled in the shower area, and carefully felt all over Col, starting at his be-socked feet as if Col had been lying about having been hurt there.
“Fine,” Col said again.
“I can tell you’re not. I just don’t know what to do to make it better. I don’t fucking know how to do anything. This is my fault. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry.”
“Keep saying that.”
Hyran locked eyes with Col. “I mean it.” He once more took Col’s hand, the one that had the needle in it. “I’m going to do what’s right for you, Coldis. I swear that I will.” He took a deep breath, then said, “Should I fetch Guardian Mirol for you?”
Col was confused enough by the offer that the heaving sobs eased for a moment.
“What would I want with Karmine? You said it was the middle of the night. He should be sleeping. He’s still in recovery.”
“You said his name. When you woke. If you want him here—fuck. If you want him here, you can have him here. I’ll just—you can have him.”
Col couldn’t parse the words, didn’t understand. His mind was too slow, too caught on everything that had happened, and on top of all that, too concussed.
Hyran’s eyes narrowed. Then, he sighed, dropping his head as if Col had slapped him. “I see. I will go and find him for you.”
He stood, letting go of Col’s hand, which jolted loose the realization that Hyran had freshly imprinted and was about to get another Guardian into a room in which his Conduit sat crying.
“Wait.” Hyran stopped. “It’s just that Karmine was hurt, and I didn’t know where I was. I thought we were back in that house. You know, where we spent that first night outside the walls after Alesa attacked us.”
“House?”
Col bit his tongue. “It was a dream. Of the time I spent outside the walls. I apologize, Guardian.”
The tight-lipped frown was back on Hyran’s face. This time, it made Col angry.What do you have to frown about? Did you get burned?
“Do you love him? Were you scared of losing him?” Hyran asked, his tone about as far away from compassion as Col was from the comfort of his own home back in Argentea.
The anger bloomed easily on the rawness left behind by his crying fit, and Col struggled to his feet, not that he could ever hope to tower over Hyran without a small ladder.
“Do I love him? Of course I love him. He’s my brother, you insensitive Hound-fucker, and he very nearly died out there.” Col’s throat stung, a corrosion that let the anger go like overload through a Conduit’s touch. “He very nearly died out there, and Iwatched over him, not knowing what or who he’d be even if he healed.”
