Page 73 of Oracle of Ruin

He stumbles over, his face still white as if he has seen a wraith on the walk home. “Are you alright?”

He’s trying. I can see how clearly the words strain him. He’s asking because he loves me, and because he wants me to know he still loves me. But what I did, what he’s seen… It’s hard to put it plainly. There’s no other way to say it.

I part my lips to respond, but only a startled croak emits. The sound seems to trigger something in my body that leads to violent coughs and convulsions.

Rowan’s eyes go wide, and as if on instinct, he unfastens his cape and throws it over me. “I will go get some water. Stay here,” he commands.

Had I any voice, I might have responded that there is nowhere for me to go, nor could I move if I want to. But nothing but a whimper emits, so he is off to find water.

Blaine and Torin shuffle in, their faces drawn. Blaine settles heavily on the chair beside me, Torin opting to sit on the arm of the couch and stroke my hair. I question him with my eyes, quite plainly wondering when he arrived.

“I was on my way to the inn when I heard the gunfire. We spoke a bit on the walk home.” Then he frowns. “Do you not remember?”

I shake my head, the motion sending heat splintering behind my eyes. Stars dance behind my eyelids when I squeeze them shut, streaking gold and red. Someone tips water between my lips, parting them with their thumb. Rowan’s blurry face smiles softly at mine when I open my eyes, looking much more like the man I know. He strokes that thumb across my chin and dabs away my sweat with a damp cloth, allowing me to take small sips when I want.

“Thank you,” I murmur, “but can I speak with them alone for a moment?”

Rowan didn’t need to see me like this, not when I know how much it is costing him. Hesitance coats his mannerisms, but he stands nonetheless, and passes the cup off to Torin before leaving the room. Blaine hooks his hand under my arm, the other flying to the small of my back as I attempt to reach a seated position.

“I’m scared.”

“No shit. You scared us too.”

Torin glares at Blaine for the remark but offers to me in a more gentle tone, “We were worriedforyou. All I saw was you in the snow and you looked like a ghost.”

“It was out of control,” I offer with a shuddering breath. “The darkness. I couldn’t stop it. I thought… I thought…”

It almost killed me. Despite the sacrifices, despite my blood, it almost killed me. Fear is smothered by a mask of rage. Mavis is blessed, not even a pureblood, and yet she can wield such power without anything like this. Do I just need more training? Am I not good enough?

Blaine’s gray eyes are iron as they peer over his straight nose at me. It isn’t fair how he can still look like he has been chiseled by the gods while being infuriated. My face goes all red and my voice pitchy. I never stand a chance in an argument.

Torin’s nimble fingers have woven a small, mindless braid at the bottom of my hair. He promptly unbraids it then creates two instead before undoing those as well and taking to twirling the hair around his finger. His voice is smooth and charming, not too unlike the charm he’s used on his many admirers. The manipulator’s voice, yet it is honest when speaking to me. “You are pure light, Vera. In a world of chaos, the darkness is going to try to smother you.”

I take another shaky breath, my ribs rattling with the minuscule motion. “I think I’ve been consumed by the darkness for so long that it’s starting to call back. What happens if I let it?”

“Then we all die.”

Torin bristles. “Blaine. With respect, fuck off.”

The former captain only shrugs, his shoulders square and his mouth forming a taut line. Even without his title or his armor, he cuts an imposing figure.

“It’s true. If she fails, we die. This is war. I don’t have time to make jokes and metaphors. She sorts this power of the pureblood shit out, or none of us stand a chance.” He snarls when he catches Torin’s scowl. “What? Can you suddenly kill a Kijova? How about an army of them? Last I checked, she’s the only one who can.”

“He’s right,” I admit, my shoulders slumping.

The two men stare at my face, slack-jawed and borderline pale.

“What?” I finally snap.

“I just never thought I’d hear those words come from your mouth. Ever.”

“I can admit my faults, thank you. It feels like that’s all I’ve been doing lately.”

It is true. I’ve been failing as far back as my memory goes. I failed Irene constantly, not that I cared about that anyhow. I failed Blaine, then I failed him again when he returned to war. Then Tanja, the Nightwalkers, Mavis, now the only family I’ve ever known.

I promised them an answer. I promised them I would find the key to unlocking this power and save them.

How am I supposed to save them if I can’t even save myself?

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