by Ryan Muree
I don’t want to fight it anymore.
He stood for hours on end with Emeryss at the library, despite being bored out of his mind and unable to talk with her. He’d made sure to polish every inch of his armor before every shift, despite not truly caring about a smudge here or there and just wanting to visit her. He was willing to fight Ingini to the death for her, willing to fight against his feelings for her.
Everything had been a fight.
And that blasted, stupid, non-issue hug was eating him alive because he wanted more of it. He couldn’t help it. He liked waking up knowing she was right there in the bunk above him. He liked how happy she seemed when he arrived at her door. He liked how everything in her life was a fight, as well, and how much stronger she was than him because she never surrendered.
She’d seen through Avrist, and he hadn’t.
He… He was weak, and he wanted to be stronger. For her. Her kind of strong.
He walked up to the wall at the end of the room with the recessed panel and swallowed. Fingers against the metal square, he closed his eyes and pushed the panel in. The whir of the metal panel sliding up echoed in the cold room.
He took a deep breath, eyes still closed.
She’d asked him why he wasn’t fighting for what he wanted. He’d said he was. Was he? What did he want? What did he truly want?
Time with Emeryss, safe and happy, and becoming a member of the High Council.
Anything else he did was simply because he had to or because he feared it.
He opened his eyes and pulled his chin back. The brilliant orange sun was setting, and fluffy pink clouds were sprinkled across the sky. Revel was a wash of green far below, and though his heart was in his throat, he dared to look down at the window near his feet.
The airship bobbed in some turbulence.
It was such a long way to fall. He tried to remain strong, to hold on to the side of the window with trembling hands. He would be stronger for her despite the ground calling to him.
I’m not falling. Not falling. Not going to fall…
“Reminds me of watching the sunset in Stadhold.”
He looked back over his shoulder, and Emeryss stood behind him in the doorway with a smile.
When Emeryss had opened the door, she’d nearly lost her footing, seeing him surrounded in bright light, warmly glowing in the window with only his pants on. Like a god, if there’d been one. She had to blink several times to believe he was really there like that.
“Sorry, if I interrupted you, I can come back—”
“No, it’s okay.” He stood back against the wall, giving her a little bit of room to join him at the window.
She let the door click shut behind her and made her way beside him.
Goddess, it was hard to keep her eyes on the sunset rather than him. One she’d seen nearly every day of her life, the other was his gloriously sculpted, muscled triumph of a chest. She gnawed the side of her cheek to keep from coming undone and making herself a fool, and then let out the air she’d been holding, hoping he didn’t notice.
“You weren’t afraid to look out?” she asked.
When he didn’t answer, she turned to catch him staring at her—abyssal. There were depths she wanted to dive into and find what was hidden in those eyes. So much of him was closed off to her. She’d flirted every time he came to escort her from her suite, hoping that one day he’d slip up, flirt back, hint that this wasn’t just a job. But he was shut tight, always able to act professional and keep himself hidden.
Recently, however, it’d been leaking out in little bits and pieces. Sure, he’d pushed her away when she’d lost her mind and hugged him out of sheer gratefulness, but something was just under the surface.
He blinked and scratched his jaw. “Me? Afraid of a window? Never.”
She smirked.
“You caught me in the middle of imagining my body falling all the way down and then smashing into the ground somewhere.”
She winced and placed both palms against the cool stormstone, leaning against the window. “So, doing this probably makes you nervous?”
He took a definite step back and cleared his throat. “Can you not… the glass could pop out—”
“It’s not going to pop out, Grier.”
“You don’t know that. Come on… off the window…”
She giggled at him squirming in his own skin. “You’re the strongest person I know, the best fighter in the world, probably—”
“Stop it—”
“And you’re scared of this?”
“Falling hundreds of feet to my death, yes… It’s not that crazy, actually. Being afraid of a painful death is very normal, thank you very much.”
She pushed herself off the stormstone and walked back to the sink to wash her face and hands from the day’s grit and grime. “You shouldn’t be afraid of death, Grier.”
“So, you’re totally fine with falling and breaking every bone in your body and dying right now? Really? I don’t believe that… even from you.”
She wiped the cool water over her cheeks, forehead, and across her chin, then grabbed a nearby rag to pat herself dry. “We have a loving goddess of death—”
He scoffed behind her and sat on the edge of his bunk.
“She is. Any pain you feel at the moment of death is washed away when she comes to carry you to the otherworld. It’s beautiful when you unite with her, not terrifying.”
He crossed his large arms, his silver bracer in place as always. “And how do you know this?”
“She told us.” She sat next to him. “Well, she told all of us a very long time ago. You’re the ones who decided to focus on her redeeming nature.”
“Okay, but you have to be a little afraid of death. It seems impossible not to be.”
She shrugged. “You’re right. A little piece of us wants to survive. Otherwise, we’d do a terrible job at existing. But the rest of what makes us up is just spirit, ether, one with everything else… and life continues in different forms, on different planes. Can I tell you a secret?”
“Absolutely.” His voice was soft and genuine.
“The only part I like about scribing is seeing the ether.” She took a deep breath. “It’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. It feels like you belong with it, and it with you. It feels like the rest of existence is there and you’re missing out. I think I cried for a week after the Scribes told me I’d go blind from it.” She smiled at him.
His eyes glazed over slightly. “Keepers see it, too.”
“You do?”
“Just once. I only saw it for a second, but you’re made to go into a trance right before the Sigilist engraves your sigils in your skin. It was just bright flashes of different colored light, but it felt exactly like you said.”
She leaned back, shoulder blades against the wall. “I didn’t know that. It makes sense though.”
“That still doesn’t explain wanting to die.”
She chuckled. “I don’t want to die. I’m just not afraid of it.”
“But what if you die before you get the chance to finish what you wanted? What if you die before…”
“Before?”
He swallowed and focused on his feet. “What if you die before seeing your family again?”
She sat up. She’d thought about that, especially since learning Avrist was the one trying to shoot down the Zephyr in her escape. “It’ll be sad, sure, but I’ll see them again in some way or another. And I don’t fear it enough to make me hide from life.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. The heat from his body seeped into hers, and the smell of the soap he’d used mingled in the thin space between them. “You think I’m hiding from life?”
She smiled. “Only you know for sure, but I do think you’re missing out on parts of it. Neerians believe that nothing in this world is forever. Nothing. Not Stadhold. Not Keepers. Not Scribes. Not the Ingini or even Revel. None of it or us is forever. Instead of being afraid of it or fighting it or wha
tever it is that you do… why not enjoy it while you have it? Spend your efforts fighting for what you want instead.”
Save for the blue light over the sink, the cabin had grown darker now that the sun was well below the horizon. The skin on his chest and shoulders, the best angles of his face, all shined in it. She loved the color of blue around him. It suited him, made him look strong and powerful.
His eyes bore into hers.
She wanted to reach for him, pull him against her, taste him, draw whatever it was he was thinking and wanting out of him. But those eyes were speaking a language she wouldn’t dare decipher. She didn’t think he’d be opposed to her, per se, but he would be opposed to breaking the rules. For whatever reason, he respected them, defined himself by them, and she respected him.
She’d already come to terms long ago that she had feelings for him, and she’d mistakenly lost any semblance of control when she had run up and hugged him earlier. She’d even stressed over it all day—how would he take that? Was it too obvious? Had she made him uncomfortable? Was he mad at her for it? She couldn’t read his mind, and he wouldn’t ever tell her, but she needed to be happy with what they had because more would never be an option with him—a Keeper.
She stood to head for her bunk, but his hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her. Soft, firm, it froze her there.
“Wait, please, I need to tell you something…” He rose and stood squarely in front of her.
Her mind reeled. What could be so important that he had to say it while standing there topless? It was the most basic form of torture.
“I’m sorry,” he started. “I’m sorry for Avrist and those Keepers. I should’ve listened—”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I didn’t believe you, and what’s stupid is, I believe you about everything else. I think I didn’t want to believe you about the rest of this. You were a prisoner in Stadhold, and… I’m afraid I was part of it.”
A lump formed in her throat. “No…”
“Yes. I mean, not intentionally. But, shortly after you and I graduated, they assigned us together.”
She recalled that day over a year ago when they stood side-by-side in the sun while the Librarian and the commanders of the Keepers announced their partnership. Grier had recited his oath to Stadhold—to her.
“A little bit after that, they asked if I was comfortable accompanying you home, and to be honest I was nervous. I was terrified that I was responsible for your life. Jgenult understood that and said it was okay, and that she’d ask me again in a few more months. I’m—” He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I’ve been keeping you from going home, and it didn’t occur to me until Avrist today. I’m so incredibly sorry—”
Her heart warmed. “Grier, it’s okay.”
“How can it be okay?”
“Because I would have been terrified if I was you, too. I don’t want to risk your life now, and I didn’t want to then. But you need to know that I’d already been asking to go before then. They’d already been refusing me at that point. It wasn’t because of you.”
He scratched the back of his head and crossed his arms. “But I feel terrible. I didn’t know—”
“If anything, they assigned you to me so they could use that to continue the charade of not letting me go.”
He shook his head. “But Lerissa fought against us being partnered from the beginning. She tried to get me reassigned several times.”
“Why?”
His cheeks flushed pink. “I don’t know. She never said. Either way, I had to tell you when I realized it today. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
She rested a hand on his bracer. “I need to thank you. Thank you for… everything. Thank you for getting me away from the REV, for stopping those Keepers, and standing up for me against Avrist.”
His chest rose and fell. His eyes glanced at her hand and then back to her face.
She retracted her hand and turned for the end of the bunks where the ladder had been built into the metal. Better to sleep than stare down the face of someone she can’t have. And every passing moment with him only made it worse. She wasn’t going back to Stadhold ever, not after what Avrist had said. She’d run forever if she had to, which meant the rules of Stadhold weren’t hers anymore.
But she’d respect Grier keeping to his.
She reached behind her neck for the zipper at her suit and tugged it a few times. It didn’t move, and after a short inspection with her fingertips, found the pull stuck in the teeth. She squirmed and fought, trying to yank it free, even knocking her elbow into the wall in the process.
“You okay?” he asked, already stretched out on his side in his bunk.
“Yeah, just trying to change for bed.” The previous night she’d been so excited to have her uniform, she’d slept in it. But she’d woken up several times sweating and thinking she’d been strangled by a heptafish. The cut of the uniform was great for running away, probably swimming, too, but it was the last thing she wanted to sleep in. Unfortunately, that meant her Scribe raclar was the closest thing to the slips she typically wore to bed.
Grier’s voice hitched. “Why don’t you change in the bathroom?”
“Uh, because…” She didn’t want anyone to see her walking back in only her raclar top. She just wanted to unzip the suit partially enough that she could climb the ladder and change on the top bunk without being seen. “It’s just faster.”
“Well, I’ll give you privacy.” He turned his face toward the wall.
“No, that’s not it. I can’t…” She grunted. Her fingers barely reached the pull, but she didn’t have enough give to loosen it. “The zipper is stuck.”
She twisted and tugged, knocking her elbow into the ladder for the second time.
“Do you want my help?” His voice was muffled against the wall.
She huffed. It would be another hot night she’d sweat and toss and turn. “It’s fine, I’ll just deal with it.”
He rolled back over and walked to her. “Come on. Let me help—”
“But your—”
“It’s fine.” He lifted his palms up in surrender. “I’ll get it unstuck.”
What was she worried about? That he’d do more than unzip her? He wouldn’t. He’d pushed her away to keep distance when she’d only hugged him. And that certainly wasn’t a worry on her part. It was just a zipper for crying out loud, and he was helping a friend. She was more embarrassed she’d gotten the zipper stuck and couldn’t fix it herself than anything else.
She turned and lifted her hair.
Silence.
She wished she could have seen his face. Was he analyzing the quickest way to fix the stuck pull? Estimating how much strength he needed? Or was he actually building the nerve to touch a silly zipper on the back of her suit?
She grinned and nearly turned to tell him it was okay, that she’d figure it out somehow, when his fingers tickled the nape of her neck and grabbed the zipper.
Deafening silence.
There was a slight jerk in the fabric as he unstuck it, but his fingers remained near the top of her spine.
“Can you… can you reach it now?” he asked.
No. Yes. She didn’t want to move. “Maybe. It’s okay, I understand this is probably weird for you. If I can’t reach it, I’m sure—”
He slid the zipper down a couple inches, and her breath caught. Her heart pounded.
He wouldn’t unzip her completely… Right? If standing in her room got him scolded, this was definitely not okay… Right?
He couldn’t…
He wouldn’t…
But spirits, did she want him to. She waited, her breathing the only noise.
“Can I?” he whispered.
Could he what? She didn’t care. She nodded once.
Slowly, the zipper slid all the way down her back, cool air prickling her exposed skin. What was he doing? What was he going to do? Goddess, she’d forgotten how to speak. And if she did, she might ruin it.
One finger—his finger—traced the skin over her spine from her neck, all the way down to her lower back, and lingered. Fire against the chill, his palm slipped inside her uniform to her hip.
She sucked in as her heart thundered in her ears.
Grier. Grier is doing this. Her Keeper was breaking his rules just to touch her, and here she was hoping he’d choose to break so many more. Thankfully, he couldn’t see her face.
His heat, his moist breath, came behind her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to move in the slightest with his hand still on her hip.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed.
She wasn’t. “Don’t be.”
His lips hovered above her neck below her ear, sending sparks throughout her body. “You’d want to…?”
Her eyes opened. With Grier? She would. But he’d never agree. He was the one with the Keeper future ahead of him, complete with commander posts, lineage tablets, and arranged marriages. She had nothing but an open sea of possibilities, and nothing was forever.
“Yes,” she said. She’d wanted more for so long.
A few seconds drifted into minutes… into eternity.
“I need…” His tone was thick and slow. “I need more time.” He slipped his hand out of her suit, taking his heat with him, and got into his bunk.
Chapter 15
Adalai’s room — Zephyr Airship
Adalai groaned as she stretched awake.
It’d been over twelve hours, and she still hadn’t heard from Orr. She slammed her palm against the wall nearest to her head, and the flat metal piece concealing her window slid up. Beyond the glass, a crisp morning fog floated between sparse highwood trees.
They must have landed and parked the ship late, and from the look of the saplings, they were back to normal size again.
Last night, she hadn’t been able to make contact with General Orr, despite leaving multiple messages with his assistant. It wasn’t possible that he’d not heard about what happened in Delour. It was more likely he’d contact her sometime today, and whatever he had to say—or yell—she’d smooth things over. She always did.