Page 77 of Oracle of Ruin

I can see it too when he says it. I can see the dreams we planned, the life we built for ourselves within fantasy. And yet his face is blurred each time and the dream is just out of my grasp. I should want this. I should have…

My chin dips and he presses his forehead to mine.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t. You’ve made your choice, and while I respect that, you must respect that this isn’t a choice for me. I can’t choose to stop loving you because it is who I am. I won’t wear you down with my affections. I won’t mention it again. So long as you’re happy, I can live with it. But know this—when the day comes that you die, I will still feel it in my bones and I will mourn you not as a friend but as a love. I’ve followed and waited for you for a thousand lifetimes, and I will wait a thousand more. I am yours, even if you are not mine.”

By the end, he’s spiraling, just saying whatever words come to his mind. He rises and stalks towards the door, the darkness obscuring his face.

I move to my knees, my hands outstretched in a silent plea, though it seems far too late. “Blaine, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t. Not anymore.”

“You’re my friend—”

“No. I’m not.”

I stand behind him now. He’s only a pace away. Just one small step and yet he’s never felt further. Not even when I was jumping out of windows and he pretended not to know me did he feel so distant.

“If you’re not my friend, and you’re not my lover… Then what are you?”

Blaine pauses for a moment as if considering this before he runs his tongue over his swollen lips. The single step it takes to cross through the doorway shatters my heart. As he leaves, he parts with one final condemnation, one that I know will reverberate in my bones for years to come.

“I’m your soldier.”

The ground bites my knees as I fall, dry heaving but unable to be sick. Let him be my one that got away. My enemy. My murderer. Anything but my soldier, for I’ve seen far too many soldiers die now for something as foolish as love.

* * *

By the timeI pick myself off the floor, daylight has begun to stream weakly through the curtains. The sky is hardly pink when I drag myself to my room to change, Rowan thankfully already gone and Blaine nowhere to be seen. I slip my sweater on and two pairs of socks, shoving my only other pair in my pack at the last minute. Derrín and I agreed to travel light, given that we could encounter a Kijova at any moment. Only one spare pair of clothing, a few weapons, and even less food. We decided we could hunt along the way and forage the rest of the time, lest any meals weigh us down or perish. I pull my thickest pair of pants on and tuck Tanja’s ring under my sweater, but not before kissing it once.

I turn back, and at the last second, grab my dagger, the one Rowan gave me with the rose hilt. It settles heavily in my pack next to the rolled-up map and compass where Gadsden’s blood marks the location of the oracle. Nausea roils in my stomach, but I shove the bile back down my throat. I don’t know when I will eat a full meal again, and I refuse to lose last night’s dinner to the image of a greasy man such as the former duke.

The stairs creak beneath my feet and I can hear the sounds of people sitting below me. Kya’s worn face is the first to greet me. I can see her repressing her anger and sorrow, attempting to forgive a wound that is still too new just in case I don’t make it back. I love her for it and loathe myself more than I thought possible.

I almost hope that I don’t make it back until I catch a glimpse of Emilie’s face. Her pretty features are swollen and her eyes red with poorly concealed tears. I see my mother’s face in hers, then my father. If they are alive, they will need their daughter, and I need to live to save them. I square my shoulders and reach out. Her fingers interlace with mine and she kisses my palm. I lean into her touch before throwing my arms around her, enveloping her shaking frame in an embrace. When I pull away, her countenance is resolute, the face of a woman who has lost everything already. Everything but one thing. Her light. Her son.

Derrín throws a pack my way. “We will eat on the road. I’ve already said my goodbyes.” Kya squeezes his hand one last time as he passes, then he is gone out the door.

Amír makes her way over, giving Kya time to steady herself. “Anything we should look for in particular when we search Irene’s study?” the gunslinger asks, leaning on the wall beside me. “Or anything you want from home?”

Home. It feels like such a hollow word compared to what I’ve found here with these people. Or ratherhadfound, before it all fell apart.

“No,” I say softly.

The mercenary nods, her movements tight with emotion. She clasps a hand on my shoulder as Torin approaches. “Don’t get yourself killed out there.”

I allow myself a small smile. “I’ll do my best,” I say as she slips away.

Torin’s own lips lift in a smile that I’m sure is weaker than my own. In all honesty, it looks more like a grimace once paired with his uncharacteristically pale face and fidgeting hands. I reach my arms out and envelope him before he can say anything. His knees buckle and his fingers dig into my back. He probably hates this more than all of them, wishing he could go instead.

“I’d ask you not to go but…”

“You know me too well,” I finish for him, pulling back to study his features like it is the last time. “So you know I can’t handle another goodbye.”

Torin’s eyes swell with unshed tears. The last time we parted like this, we both thought it would be the last we saw of each other, and soon after, the palace fell and we thought for certain the other had died. I can’t handle that thought again, not after all we’ve been through to find each other.

He grips my forearms, my wrists, my fingers, then he drops my hands. “Then this isn’t goodbye.”

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