by Lucy Smoke
"We have to leave..." the words slip out of my mouth.
"Yes," Titus says from across the room, slipping on a satchel. Coen stands next to him. His color has returned and he's wearing a long tunic over his trousers. His back must be feeling better—thanks to the tonic—because he, too, bends over and slings a bag over his back.
"Wait." I put my hands up. "We have to leave, yes, but why does the truth tonic mean she's going to die? We can still get to Madam Armaita before Edwin gets here. It's at least a day's travel to get here."
Luca looks to the floor. Booker is the one that answers. "The truth tonic is naturally poisonous," he says. "They gave it to her over an hour ago. The council wants to avoid war as much as possible. Ragnarok is a large city with many people, but it's a tourist attraction and a trade city. There is very little militia. They will sacrifice the one for the many."
"There's no cure?" I ask. "No antidote?" I can't believe it. She had been with us just hours ago.
"Come, we will talk on the way," Booker says, taking my arm as Luca steps back and reaches down for his pack. "We really must leave."
Despite Booker's promise of talking, we don't discuss anything further as he leads us out the door. He locks it behind him and whispers a spell that I cannot hear. I want to ask him what the point is, but I suspect it's something that will slow whoever will be after us down when they finally make it to the apartments. We leave, heading down the stairs and out into the street. On the run again, it seems.
It will not always be so, Obidian says quietly.
I sigh. I hope he's right. Truly, I do.
We don't split up this time. I have the distinct feeling Booker and the rest won't feel comfortable unless I'm within their sight. I feel the same about them.
We skulk through the streets of Ragnarok. Unlike Euron, there are plenty of people out and about, getting ready for the day despite the fact that the sun has yet to rise. I follow closely behind Coen and Titus. Titus reaches back and takes my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Holden jerk his head towards us and stare hard. I can feel a riot of emotions coming from him. Brief sporadic thoughts that are more feeling than substantive words. I ignore it, but I do pull my hand away from Titus' when we reach a stable.
Booker turns and waves Luca and Holden closer. His green-eyed gaze meets mine for a brief moment and his expression softens. "I have contacted friends in the city that will attempt to get to her and help her," Booker says. “I would go myself if I could.”
“You don’t hate her?” I ask. Their relationship had always been rocky. She had chastised him. She had acted more preferential to Luca.
He smiled. “No, I could never hate her. Despite her personality, she has helped me greatly. She has nurtured my abilities.” I stare at him as his face morphs back to the hard, impenetrable look of the leader I’m used to. The burden on his shoulders must be so heavy. I can’t let him keep going like this.
I must have been more shocked than I thought because they're all still talking, trying to urge me out the door. Urge me to hurry. I put my foot down and whirl on Booker. "We're not leaving," I say.
He shakes his head and shoves me into Luca's arms. "We have to," he says. "Just go with the others, I'll meet up with you—"
"No!" I snap, glaring at him and ripping myself from Luca's arms. "We can't keep fucking running. It feels like all we do is run."
Booker's gaze hardens even further, all of the softness drying up. "Do you think we want this?" he asks and his tone is frigid. "We don't. We don't want to run. I don't want to leave her here. But if we're going to keep you and ourselves alive, then we need to."
"No, you don't," I say.
"What?"
I shake my head at him. "I'm so sorry." Guilt rides me hard, almost impossibly so. It chokes me up, making breathing difficult. "I'm sorry that I've brought all of this to your door."
"Don't play the martyr." Holden's voice at the door has me turning to face him. "It doesn't suit you," he continues, stepping forward. "You'll do as Booker says and you'll come with us, or so help me, the Gods will be the only beings that can pull me off you."
I stare at his dark expression in shock. I know he's capable of it—I see the darkness brewing and storming over his face—but to have it directed at me…well, it makes me a little uneasy and something else that feels far too close to shame for my liking. Before I can respond, Holden shakes his head. “We’re in this together, Nerys. Now, let us help you.”
I don’t deserve them. I truly don’t. But I nod anyway and I can practically feel a physical sigh of relief from Obidian—though that’s entirely not possible right now.
“Good,” Holden says as even Booker’s expression clears and he goes back to being stoic and in charge. “Let’s go.”
I vaguely recall getting out of the city…once again fleeing for my life since that seems to be all I’m good at. Or rather, fleeing for our lives, since I’m not alone. I haven’t been alone since the start of this, I realize. Coen has always been there. Immediately following my introduction to Obidian, he was there. Then the rest just…sort of fell into my lap.
Booker, Luca, Titus, and Holden are huddled together. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I know they’re having a secret meeting. One that I wasn’t invited to. I mean, it’s not like I can’t just walk over there and demand that they tell me what they’re talking about. It’s not like they’re really hiding anything. I could join if I wanted to, but somehow, I find myself feeling sorry for myself.
It’s okay to feel this way, Obidian assures me. It has been quite a trying time.
That only serves to rouse the anger seated deep within me. No! I want to yell at myself. I don’t have time to be sitting around here, acting like a stupid child. Whining about my circumstances. I need to woman up and do something about all this. So far, I’ve let Booker and the guys lead me around. They’ve saved my life more than once.
That is the way of potentials, Obidian says. They are drawn to daimons and they want to protect them.
That thought makes me stop. It’s not an unfamiliar thought. But laid so bare like that, it hurts. It…scares me. Do they just want to be around me because they’re potentials?
“Nerys?” Titus’ quiet tone disrupts my thoughts before Obidian can reply or I can sink even further into the annoying self-pitying hole I’ve fallen into.
“Yes?” I jerk my gaze up and meet his warm, soft eyes.
“I think Coen’s wandered off a bit. I was going to go get him, but…” Titus looks decidedly uncomfortable as he glances away from the little campsite we’ve made up for ourselves. He sighs, turning back to look at me. “You’re his best friend, I feel like he’d be much more comfortable around you.”
I look in the same direction.
“Plus, you’re a woman,” Titus says, drawing my attention once more. My nose scrunches up, wondering what my gender has to do with anything. He smiles and shrugs a little when he catches my expression. “Women are softer and more understanding than men.”
I sigh. Not at the task set before me. I’d be more than happy to go to Coen—I wish I had been paying more attention and noticed when he ran off. In fact, I glance in the direction Titus had looked, but I don’t see anything.
“Are you sure he went that way?” I asked skeptically, before peeking around the camp, just to be sure I’m not being even more unobservant than I thought I was.
“Yes?” Titus looks at me like I’m acting weird. I guess to him, I might be.
I sigh again before glancing at the rest of them—still huddled in a circle away from the fire. I look down at the pallets we'd made next to the slow-burning embers. “Sorry,” I manage to say finally, “I guess I’m just in a weird headspace right now.”
Titus’ expression softens, a small smile pulling at his lips. He steps forward and presses a kiss to my forehead, letting intimacy wrap the two of us up for only a moment. “It’ll be okay, Nerys. We’ll get through this.” That’s twice today one of them has said
that. Even though I tell myself I don’t need to hear it to know it, when the words slip through his lips, my shoulders droop a little, and a small weight slides away. “Now, go get our boy,” Titus says, pulling away and pushing me in the opposite direction.
I nod and start to march through the underbrush, small critters skittering this way and that way as I shove aside branches and step around bushes. “Coen?” I call out, hoping he’ll hear me. “Coen? Where are you? I can’t see a thing out here.”
“Here,” he calls out. I move forward stumbling towards the sound of his voice in the dark. I reach out and something warm touches me on my shoulder. I jerk before realizing it’s just Coen.
“Hey, you wandered off.” I swallow against the thickness in my throat. “Um…do you want to talk about, well, you know…” I took a breath. “If you ever want to talk about anything that happened, I’m here.”
It’s hard to be completely sure in the darkness, but I feel rather than see Coen’s eyes on me as we move forward. His hand skims down my arm, brushing against the inside of my elbow and I shiver. His fingers encircle my wrist. He's leading me somewhere—where, I don't know. But I let him. I trust him completely, and even if I didn't, he sacrificed himself for me. He's my best friend and I feel so useless, helpless to do something—anything—to help him.
"Coen?" I ask after several more silent moments.
"He's not human," Coen says.
We come to a full stop and a cold sweat breaks out across my flesh. "I know."
Coen's eyes glint as he steps closer. "Does he speak to you?" He releases my wrist and reaches up, drawing his fingers down the side of my face. "In your mind?"
"How did you know?"
"Because he spoke to me," Coen admits. My breath catches as his fingers trail lower, to my neck. "When he tortured me."
"I'm so sorry, Coen." Tingles race across my skin. My heart cracks. I knew he had been tortured from the way we found him, and the markings on his back. The hollowness in his expression. It was both my fault, and that monster's. Mine for bringing Coen into this and Edwin's for hurting him.
Coen turns away from me and sinks to the ground. I can do nothing but follow him. My knees hit the dirt, but I don’t care. I reach for him. Coen’s eyes return to mine.
"He took everything, Nerys," Coen says, widening the crack in my heart. "Sight. Sound. Touch. Feeling. Until all that was left was a darkness so thick, I couldn't breathe. I didn't know if I was breathing or if I was already dead."
I wonder if that's why he was moving so well here—in this darkness—when I can hardly see a thing.
"I thought I was going crazy. I thought you were a figment of a deranged mind. The life we had together. Our friendship. Our bond."
"Bond?" Does he know more? I wonder. Does he know about the potentials that they are?
Coen leans forward and nuzzles my neck, his hot tongue licking out to touch my pulse. I gasp when it touches my skin and sigh as he slides it across my echoing heartbeat. "Ner..." he whispers, clutching me tightly. "Gods, Ner. Don't you know how much I love you? How much I've always loved you? You're my best friend."
He pulls back and presses his lips to mine. His mouth opens and so does mine, but he doesn't let it go too far. He pulls back slightly, kissing me just hard enough to rattle my brain and make me forget what I’m out here to do. "Do you know what it did to me to know you kissed Titus and Holden but not me?"
Coen pushes me back until my legs slide out from beneath me. He hovers over me, his face encased in shadow, his beard growth overgrown and scratchy against my skin as he leans back down and scrapes it against the sensitive flesh of my neck. It brushes against me in the best way, sending quaking shivers through my body. I rise up against him, murmuring a sound as he resettles over me. His hand brushes through my hair, gripping it in his fist—shocking me—as he pulls it back. Coen holds me, keeping his eyes—the darkest storm I’ve ever seen in them raging—on mine. He forces me to face him. Guilt eats up my throat. I never planned things with Titus or Holden, but I hate that he’s hurt by it.
"Ner..." His breath fans across my face.
"I-I..." I want to say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Apologizing might make him think that I regret what happened with Holden and Titus, and I don't. As much as I hate myself for it, I have to at least be honest. I don't regret it at all.
Another part of me holds back what I want to say though. It will only complicate things even further. First Titus. Then Holden. And now Coen. What has happened to me? Why am I doing this? My breath comes in pants.
"Tell me," he says. "Tell me and I'll kiss you."
I blink, startled by the seductive promise. I want it. No, I crave it. I want to feel his lips on mine. Can I allow myself that experience? There's so much happening right now. He's still not fully healed after his time in Euron with Edwin. I wonder if he's not doing this now as a way to escape that. I push back, my hands on his chest.
"Coen, wait." I gasp as heat rises between us and his free hand slides up between my breasts to grasp my throat.
"I want to hear it, Ner. Tell me." I shiver against the tortured darkness of his voice. The wanting, the longing, the desperation. I understand it. But this isn't the right time, this isn't the right place.
"Coen, please—"
"Nerys?" My eyes widen as Luca's voice comes from somewhere in the distance—not too close, but not far either. I push harder against Coen's chest. This is not good. I can't have anyone discovering us like this. It would be too much like a repeat of last time. Coen doesn't loosen his hold.
Every noise that echoes in the dark, as Luca comes closer, increases my anxiety. "Please," I beg, "I can't."
"Tell me and I'll let you go," Coen promises.
"Coen, I..." I take a deep breath, "you're my best friend, of course I love you."
He's shaking his head before I've even finished. "No, you can't excuse it with that. I want to know how you really feel."
That pisses me off. I take my hands away and slap his chest. "How can I tell you that when I don't even know how I feel?" I snap. "Do you know how confusing this is for me?"
"Nerys? Coen?" Luca calls again. "I can smell you guys out here."
There's a soft, noninvasive, pressure at the edge of my mind. Two points. Coen and Luca. I shove harder against Coen's chest. But he doesn't budge. He's a rock holding me still.
"Fine," I hiss. "You want to hear it? I love you. I've loved you for years. But I don't regret what happened with Titus or Holden. I don’t know what this…” I’m not even sure how to give it a name. There is no name for what is manifesting between me and the rest of them. “I don’t know what this thing is,” I continue, “and I don’t know what it means, but I’m drawn to them as much as I am to you. There. Now you have your fucking answer.”
If I had thought that last addition would hold him off, I was sorely mistaken. Coen's grip on my hair tightens until I'm arching up against him, gasping as he tugs, and a sting invades my scalp. "I don't care about that," he says. "You can care about them all you fucking want, Ner. I just needed to hear that you loved me too."
His mouth descends on me, an inferno of heat. His lips slam against mine. He tears me apart, ripping me open like a wild animal until his fire spills into me, burning me alive. I gasp against his mouth, hot and molten. I don't even notice when Luca finally stumbles upon us. I'm too consumed by Coen and the raging flames between us.
I’m drowning under the onslaught of Coen's fire. It's eating me up, inside and out. When did this happen? How did we get to this point? Why do I feel so torn? Coen's hands grip me hard, holding me closer, squeezing until I know I'm going to bruise. And I'm okay with it. I want him to bruise me, to mark me. It'll be a mark that I actually choose, one that I accept.
A throat clears to the side of us and, finally, Coen pulls away. He releases me abruptly before standing and staring down at me as my lips tingle. My hands find the ground beneath me. It's cold and wet from the recent rain. My fingers sink into the mud. It ca
kes under my nails.
Coen doesn't say anything more, he simply turns and walks away, leaving me laying in the dirt as Luca blinks between both of us, appearing just as confused as I am. I never thought kissing my best friend would be so destructive. Or so bewildering.
Luca helps me to my feet, but there's no disguising what he just saw. I don't even try as he attempts to brush off the worst of the clumps of dirt, mud, and grass on my clothes and skin. I feel hollowed out. It's as if, when Coen kissed me, he sucked away all my energy. So, when Luca and I make it back to camp and find everyone else steadily getting ready for bed, I do the same without complaint. Luca, thankfully, doesn't ask me any uncomfortable questions.
As I close my eyes, praying to fall quickly into sleep, I hope that tomorrow will bring the light and some understanding.
7
Eye of the Storm
The next day does not bring the light. Instead, the clouds combine and roll overhead, angry and swollen, and fat with rain. My legs tire as we trudge on. Coen avoids me. He doesn't even look at me as we all march in single file. The land is slippery and some spots are so soaked with rain, I fear falling in and drowning in the puddles. My hair sticks to my scalp, and the cold has long since seeped beneath the fabric of my clothes. We woke this morning with the sprinkle of a brewing storm on our faces and the longer we walk, the more it comes down.
There is more than this storm brewing, a familiar voice says.
I nearly stumble and fall flat on my face as Obi's voice comes through my mind. I haven't heard from him in so long, I almost forgot that he was there. When I finally regain my footing and continue at the grueling pace we've set, I answer him in my mind.
What do you mean? I ask.
You felt it last night, he says. Then there's a nudge and my head tips up. My gaze finds Coen as he turns his cheek, and his eyes meet mine before quickly turning back to the front. He had been watching me, I realize.