The Healers' Home

  “Kei?” she called. “I’m home.” She heard scuffling deeper into the apartment, and what sounded like an elbow or a knee hitting the floor in the living room. The cats, probably. As small as they were — as small as they used to be? — they could fling themselves at the ground off the couch or the beds with surprising force. “Hey, Shadow, Lulu. I’m home, kitties.”

  A sigh, a groan from the living room. Movement in the hallway. Agna froze. Two places, two people. Maybe Keifon had company. He was free to do so, of course. She was hardly one to judge, especially now. She would strangle the disappointment rising in her gut; she had no right to it. Her timing was awful, that was all. Even if Keifon had found someone, and he had every right to do so, she hadn’t expected to come home and find a stranger sleeping on her couch.

  Her stomach dropped as footsteps approached across the living room. If Keifon had the kind of company who would stay overnight, why would they be on the couch?

  She raised a hand, instinctively burning some energy she couldn’t really spare in a weak green light. A stranger, a man, taller and broader than Keifon, leaned on the door frame between the kitchen and the living room. Her light outlined only a section of his right shoulder and the edge of his jaw, and reflected dimly from his white shirt. Green sparks reflected in his half-lidded eyes. He yawned, and spoke in mumbled Yanweian. “You must be Agna, then.” Yellow light dawned in the hallway and bobbed toward them. Behind the stranger, Keifon’s face floated above a lit candle, blinding in the dark.

  Agna felt herself flushing, her skin burning hot in the chilly night air. Her Yanweian was awkward after such long disuse. “Oh — hello. Uh, sorry interrupting. I am early—”

  Keifon nudged his guest — his lover? — aside as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen. “Agna, you’re home already! I’m so happy to see you.” His candle’s light passed over the other man’s face. Agna gasped, and her breath locked in her lungs. She raised her hand higher, catching the stranger’s face in her watery light. His hair was mussed, and he was dressed in sleeping clothes that were too tight on him, not a deep red uniform. But she knew his face. She’d watched him deliver a speech in front of a crowd as the mountain pass construction began. She’d thought she’d never see him again, except in the nightmares that had squirmed like insects in her head during the long ocean crossing. She had worried about the revolution, about Keifon getting caught up with violence and famine.

  The sickness knotted her insides. She’d run away from her own anger, because she couldn’t bear the thought of Kazi’s importance in Keifon’s life. She’d sailed for months alone, argued her way out of her birthright, and sealed her name to a near-stranger’s in a sham marriage. And the hot blade through her heart had not changed one bit. She hadn’t escaped.

  “Kazi.” The name dropped from her mouth, and her light died.

  Keifon’s smile fell away. “It’s—it’s not what it looks like.” Kazi snickered, and Keifon whipped around, showing his teeth. “Don’t. Don’t you dare. Agna, we need to talk.”

  “We don’t.” She stepped backwards toward the door. This wasn’t her home anymore. This was a bad dream. She’d tried to come home, where she was always welcome, where their old lives and bad dreams couldn’t find them, and found a nightmare instead. She had no place here. He’d chosen Kazi, the one who had hurt him, in the end.

  “No. No.” Keifon pushed past the chairs, dripping melted wax as the candle listed in his hand. “Hey, listen. Don’t be afraid, it’s — it’s complicated, but I can explain.”

  It was a mistake, a stupid, ugly mistake, for him to go crawling back to the man who had dumped him and made him into a bitter husk of himself. But if that was what he chose, what he wanted, who was she to deny him? No one. She was no one. Her opinion didn’t matter. What she wanted didn’t matter, especially since she didn’t know the words for what she wanted. It didn’t factor in.

  This was her house, a voice in her head insisted, as she reached for the doorknob. She had every right to be here.

  “Please don’t. It’s late. We can talk. Please—”

  His voice faded behind her into the swirl of snow.

  * * *

  The pain in his knuckles eventually cut through the haze. He punched the door one more time and sat on his heels. Lulu crept toward the candlestick on the floor, sniffing and jerking back. Keifon waved her away.

  Kazi sighed. “Look…”

  “One more word from you, and you’re going out after her.”

  “You could go out after her.” Voices murmured downstairs, filling their silence. “Just a suggestion.”

  “She doesn’t — she won’t. I won’t make her. She…” Was gone. He’d driven her away. He’d made a mistake, and she had left. He always knew it would happen eventually.

  Kazi adjusted a chair’s position, fidgeting. “I’m sure she’ll be back in the morning. Go get some sleep.”

  Keifon braced himself against the floor. Thieves in Wildern had grown bolder, now that there was less to steal and the cold had deepened. Fights had broken out at the edges of the bread lines outside the Eytran church. Agna would be safe; her power would keep her safe. He’d seen her light flicker, and he knew she couldn’t keep it up when she was exhausted. But she would find somewhere to be safe, away from him. Even though every room at the Benevolent Union and every corner of every inn was full of protesters and police.

  Police.

  She wouldn’t.

  She should. Kazi deserved it, after all.

  This couldn’t happen. He honored her choices, and he didn’t want to run out into the cold — the cold dark, endless and howling — to drag her home like a misbehaving child. But over that fear, another layer of terror crackled like a storm. I can’t lose her. I can’t I can’t I can’t.

  He would be alone again, and this time he would have watched his family disappear in front of him. He might not be able to stop her. It might not be right to refuse to respect her decision. But this time, he could at least try to stop it.

  His head reeled as he stood.

  “Kei.”

  “Shut up.”

  Keifon stumbled on the stairs, blinded by the afterimage of the candle he had left in the kitchen. He shoved on his boots and pushed his arms into the sleeves of his coat. No time to light a lantern. No time for anything. Kazi’s footsteps down the stairs followed him as he slammed the door.

  It was long before dawn. In the summer, coming home near midnight, he’d learned to estimate the time by the height of the moon above the horizon. But tonight the moon was hidden behind looming clouds. Snow whipped into his eyes as he skidded around the corner of the house and ran between the wall and the fence. The brick wall scraped his palm as he shoved against it.

  She wouldn’t want to see him. He’d destroyed it at last, as he always knew he would. But he couldn’t let this happen, couldn’t let his greatest fear unfold in front of him. Not without trying. Not without fighting. He wouldn’t let her decide single-handedly. Agna had the right to decide for herself whether she forgave him, but he had a voice. He deserved to tell her what he wanted, what she meant to him, before she made her choice.

  He slipped in the packed snow as he burst onto the walkway, and wheeled around as he tried to regain his balance, squinting up and down the road. She couldn’t have gotten far. A dark shape struggled up the hill on the next block. Yes. Trying not to whimper aloud, he charged up the hill, letting the wind rip tears from his eyes. It didn’t matter. His hands were going numb apart from the sting of scraped skin. Didn’t matter. That might not be Agna; it was hard to see. Didn’t matter. The street was empty otherwise. If the cloak billowing in the snow up ahead wasn’t hers, he’d keep looking. Every street in this city. Every door, every window.

  He crossed the street and vaulted over the snowbank between the street and the walkway. The person ahead turned. That mass was a camping backpack after all, and the face that turned to him was pale in the streetlight. Keifon choked out her name. “Agna!
Please. Don’t do this. Please come home.”

  Her hands rose to cover her mouth — they were bare, like his. She did not approach or retreat. She said something that was lost in the wind, and Keifon stepped forward, past the shuttered windows of a shop. Her breath steamed through the falling snow. “I said, I tried to.”

  Something made it past the cage of his throat, an undignified noise like a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I asked him to leave, I already said it was a mistake and he had to go by the end of the week. Please come back. I’ve missed you so much. It’s not safe out here anymore, not the way it’s been.”

  Her voice was flat and strange. “Are you working with him? Are you part of this?”

  “I — we can’t talk about it in the open. It isn’t safe. I’m not part of it. I promise you. Please come home, we can talk about this.” He hadn’t meant to advance on her as though he were tracking a wild animal, but his numb feet wouldn’t stop. Shouting distance, then speaking distance, then close enough to see the tears tracking down her face. If she would only come home and talk with him, he’d do his best not to throw Kazi out a window for making her cry. It wasn’t Kazi’s fault, it was his own, but he couldn’t face that now.

  “You didn’t help him. You didn’t do this, this rebellion.”

  Keifon flinched. The reward for turning Kazi in had grown by the day, and any right-minded citizen of Wildern would do it just to end the siege. Rebellion was not a safe word to speak in the open. But if it would bring her home, he’d shout it in the market square. “I didn’t. He went on the run, and turned up in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be any part of it. I want this to be over more than anyone.”

  Agna laughed, or something like a laugh. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You know I’ve been healing on roadsides all the way up the great western road? Collecting food to send to the Union. So they could help the people your boyfriend is starving out.”

  “He isn’t—” He swallowed hard. It didn’t matter. When they were safe and warm, he could argue about that. “I didn’t know. Th-they’ve been handing out food at the base. I did a couple of extra shifts helping out with it. I didn’t know that was from you.” He almost wished he’d known, so that he could have taken more time to be proud of her, so that he would have known she was coming home.

  He took one more step, and when he reached toward her arm, she didn’t stir. Shaking, he pulled close to her, not making her move, clinging as though he could make her stay. Her backpack got in the way, so one of his arms slid under it, around her waist — too close, too intimate, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. She was here, and he wouldn’t move until she was ready to come with him.

  Her cloak was thin wool, too light for a Wildern winter. She was shivering under it. After a long, still moment, she lifted her arms to embrace him and leaned her forehead into his neck. Keifon choked back everything that ached to burst from his chest. The snow on her hood melted against his cheek. His fingers stiffly curled into the fabric of her cloak. “I missed you so much. Every day.”

  Her hand moved along his back; he could still feel that, so far. “I missed you, too. I couldn’t wait to get home.”

  “It’s too cold. You don’t have gloves. Or boots. Please come home. Even if you don’t want to talk yet. Just come home and rest.” The thought nearly choked him. He wanted to know she was safe in her room as he tried to sleep across the hall. He could keep his mouth shut if she’d just come home. More importantly, he’d keep Kazi’s mouth shut. “And if he bothers you, I’ll turn him in myself. Give me the excuse. Honestly.”

  She giggled, high-pitched and broken. “That romantic, huh?”

  “Torture. But everything will be all right now.” The wool hood absorbed his tears along with the melted snow. “As long as you’re here.”

  “Kei.” His name in her voice echoed too many of his dreams over the last two seasons. She lifted her head to peer at him through the shadows, and seemed to swallow back whatever she’d almost said. Instead, she laid her cold hand on his cheek and passed her thumb over his cheekbone. After a long, long second, her gaze dropped, and she pulled away far enough to begin buttoning up his coat over his pajamas. “You’re not even dressed.”

  He felt himself flush, though he neither stopped her nor let go. “I was asleep. It’s late.”

  Agna laughed as she finished the last button, then rested her head against his collar and slipped her arms around him again. Her breath warmed the hollow of his throat. “I’m still mad at you, you know.”

  He swallowed and nodded. “All right. Just… are you coming?” Please was silent this time, reverberating through his body.

  Agna squeezed him tighter, as if to answer without speaking. “I am.”

  Agna: An Understanding

  Agna felt a sob hitch in Keifon’s chest, and wasn’t sure who she wanted to punch more, Kazi na Furujia or herself. She hadn’t asked Keifon to run out into the cold, but he had. Of course he had. And while confusion and anger still burned in her core — where it felt like the only part of her body that wasn’t turning to ice — she still wanted to go home and climb those stairs and curl up under a blanket on the couch and talk all night. Not arguing, not yet. Talking. She wanted to know everything that had happened while she was gone, every silly thing the cats had done, every color in the autumn leaves. She’d missed so much, but nothing so much as this.

  It wasn’t fair to get so close to him. It wasn’t fair to let fatigue and cold and relief wear down her resistance until she indulged her long-standing half-dream of snuggling up to him like this. She could pretend she was only trying to stay out of the wind, but the small metal mass lying warm on her chest reminded her that it wasn’t an excuse. She stepped back, pulling away from his quickly diminishing warmth. “Let’s go home.”

  Keifon nodded, watching her face as though he hadn’t convinced himself of her reality. Agna reached out for his hand, feeling only vague pressure through her numbness. His arm twitched, and she pulled his hand up to inspect it in the streetlight. A wide scrape ran across his palm. “You’re bleeding. What happened?”

  He stepped around to her right side, pushing his scraped hand into his pocket. “The wall, I think. Just a minute ago. Can’t feel it much.”

  She took his left hand instead. “I’ll fix that when we get home, if I have anything left.”

  “Mmn.” He hunched into the wind as they began to walk. “Thank you. Sorry.”

  She chose not to hear the apology. It was too late tonight to argue about the absurdity of apologizing to her for hurting himself in the process of chasing her down after she’d fled like a coward.

  “No,” she said at last, as they climbed over the last snowbank. “I’m sorry I ran. I panicked.”

  He squeezed her hand. “It’s all right. It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Through half of my visit home, all the way over on the ship, and then all the way north… I kept thinking about coming home. That’s all I had to look forward to. Being home again, being safe, being free. And then…”

  They’d come to the passageway along the side of the gallery. Keifon let go and rested his hand on her backpack, signaling for her to go ahead of him. “I know.”

  She let the rest of her arguments go unvoiced. Later. If it was ever worthwhile, it wasn’t now. She reached up to touch the snow-drifted windowsill, where yellow light seeped through the drapes. “So you took on renters after all?”

  “Yeah. Bargi — from the canal, you remember her?”

  “Of course.” She’d healed Bargi’s broken leg, with Keifon’s help, the first time she’d visited the camp by the canal.

  “It’s Bargi and some others from the workers’ camp. Eight people, four each in the two side galleries. I’ve been able to keep up payments on the mortgage and buy food, thanks to their rent. Prices have gone up since the shortages started.”

  “I see.” She wrapped her cloak tighter around her, warming the fingers that she’d chilled even
further on the windowsill. Hemmed in by the fence and the wall, they were out of the wind, at least.

  In the courtyard, a tarp covered the stack of firewood, and a metal lock box stood next to it. Their washtub was overturned by the now-frozen compost pile. The snow drifted against the fences, crisscrossed by footprints between the woodpile and the door. The latch on the gate rattled in another gust of wind.

  Keifon sighed as he rounded the corner, but did not elaborate. “It should be open,” he said.

  Agna’s key lay in her pocket, anyway, where she’d shoved it on her way down the stairs. An echo of that sinking dread constricted her insides. If you went home and it wasn’t your home at all, if every home you fled to was wrong, what then? But she’d dealt with her parents’ relocation and the loss of her childhood home. She could deal with this. Kazi was just a person. She was more upset with Keifon for letting him back into his life than she was with Kazi for being a snake in the first place.

  If she dared to crack open that anger toward Keifon, that feeling of betrayal, she’d find anger toward herself. She’d run the first time, two weeks after Lundrala — pretending to be civilized and sedate about it — because she couldn’t stop feeling jealous of Kazi. In the end, all of the factors zeroed out, leaving the answer as clean and balanced as a mathematical proof.

  She wasn’t only upset with Keifon.

  She wasn’t only resentful toward Kazi for what he’d done years ago.

  She was terrified of that completely indefensible rush of envy. What kind of monster couldn’t leave her friend to live his life as he wished? What kind of friend couldn’t leave herself out of it, couldn’t accept that it was none of her concern?

  She’d run then, but she came back still harboring that beast inside her. She hadn’t succeeded in starving it out. All along, while she rode across the ocean and lay awake wondering how she could confess about her signature on a marriage contract, Kazi had been here, usurping her place. Eating at her table, scratching her cats behind the ears, talking with her —