Fallen Warrior (Fallen Trilogy book 3)

by Williams, Tess

  It wasn't that Cole had done anything. He was still looking at me, and glancing to the sky a little, with that same expression of exasperation, as if I'd really gone too far, in teasing him. My body had gone still, as if frozen suddenly in a lock, but it wasn't that which captured my mind either. There was a bird, flying overhead, but it may as well not have been, for all I noticed it.

  I was hearing words. Two things, back and forth. One said, unioned, unioned? Is that an official term princess? And this, here back on Yanartas. Sitting... not so different than Cole and I were now. Sitting on the platform above my cabin. Sitting in the dark, and we'd just been talking of Amalia, or we were about to, but Cole, had said, Unioned, mimicking me, purely skeptical, and then, is that an official term princess? And I'd never really forgotten it, since I shouldn't like to be so corrected, and not by Cole from Kanth.

  But that was just the first thing I was hearing. The next was much farther back in my memory, like a distant whisper, but a bright one, and it shouldn't have been far to reach, since it was in this place that it was spoken. Surely, it had been this place. Surely I had just said about blue, and purple, and red and yellow. Those are the Shaundakulian's, they're blue and purple. And the Akadian's, they complete the half-circle, and they are red and yellow.

  "Red and yellow?" And in that tone. In that deep, wondrous, familiar tone. Red and yellow? Is that an official term? Is that an official term? Is that an official term?

  Oh, surely, surely, oh surely, such a normal thing to say. The most normal thing to say. That's such a normal thing to say, I told myself. Such a normal thing to say.

  "Ellia, Minstrel told me that he's not set to marry. He really, isn't. He's in love with someone back in Gilgatrox."

  Cole, that was Cole speaking. Yes, it was Cole. Ha, where was I? I was in Shaundakul. I was on a wall. I was shaking my head. I thought I was shaking my head. Those words were just bouncing back and forth. Unioned, is that an official term, princess? Red and yellow, is that an official term, so much that I wanted to laugh out loud. I was shaking my head.

  "Alright," Cole admitted, "He isn't. But really... he's just too short."

  I turned my head. Where was I? I was in Shaundakul. I was on the wall. Cole was beside me. I was looking at Cole. His eyes were grey. They were panicked. He was really afraid that I meant to marry Minstrel. Was he? Yes. No. "I'm..."

  I got that much of words out.

  Then finally, Cole must have noticed something. Because he stopped speaking. His eyes opened wider. So that I was sure his brows had lifted up, in question—his dark brows, I'd always been able to tell that much. "My eyebrows are dark, Ellia—did you imagine that I didn't have any? And my hair is gold. Or light brown. Not so light as yours."

  I dropped down from the wall. Did I? Yes, I'd come down. I'd closed my eyes. I saw Cole's face again, as I just had. No, but there was scarring there. It was scarred all around his eyes, on that high cheek. That bridge of his nose. It didn't make sense. It was all so silly.

  I started laughing.

  "Ellia?"

  Was Cole beside me. I felt cold. Was it windy. "It's strange, Cole."

  "Ellia, are you alright?"

  "It's so strange, because I thought you said about terms just yourself, but..."

  I was pacing. All at once, I stopped. I looked at Cole. He was there. It was fine. He was only a few feet front me. He was standing, just in front of me. "Say, what's your mother's name?" I asked him.

  It was the lightest tone I used. It was an easy tone. It was an easy question.

  In my mind, I was in Byako though. I was twisting my sword around, and then to the chest of a fast-breathing Kanthian. Wasn't that not very many weeks, a few months, after Cyric had died? Why had he come? I heard myself, asking for his name. I heard him, breathing hard, watching his fidgeting. It's— It's — It's— Cole. It's Cole! Well, of course, it's Cole, this is Cole. This is Cole.

  "What's your mother's name, Cole?"

  He was stuttering. Why was he stuttering?

  "What's your father's name?" I demanded. It came out harsh. Then I blinked, and I was present on the top of the wall. Then I was cocking my head, and I was looking at Cole, watching him, and I repeated, more kindly, "Just tell me your father's name. Tell me your mother's name. Tell me your sister's name, if you have one. Tell me anything!"

  "Ellia, why are you doing this now? Like this. Like..."

  "It's an official term, Cole. It's an official term. Unioned, is, and so are colors."

  "You're not making sense."

  I shook my head. In my mind, now, I was pacing in my dress, but also I felt Cole's hands around me, and my front pressed up to the stove in my cabin: I felt his hands reaching over my stomach, and felt his breath hit my ear, and I called him Cyric. Stop it, Cyric. Stop it.

  I opened the door, after having told Cole about Cyric for the first time, and there he was. And he was grabbing my wrist, and demanding that I tell him about the battle. It's not fair, he'd said. It's not fair. Oh, how Cole must have loved that girl, he had, I'd thought. How brave he is. How much I do like him.

  "No," I announced. I was back on the wall again. There was something like an itching in my nose. In my nose, and a feeling, like a cough in my throat. I was pacing in my dress. My hair was down. Cole was grabbing for my waist at Genbu, by the doorframe, but no, I was just here, and my mind had gotten away from me. "No, I think I should need to see your face after all, Cole."

  "WHAT?"

  Is that what he said? Is that what he says: what? And how long did it take him to reply. Wasn't it him I'd just seen tense first, his shoulders all lifting, then his grey eyes going wide.

  What? I thought again, I repeated to myself. What? Hadn't he been the one to kiss me in the star chamber. Just ask me, Ellia. Ask me, Ellia. I'll show you if you ask me. I'll protect you. I'll never leave you. Just ask, and I'll show you.

  "Take off your mask!" I shouted to him. "Take it off now, Cole! Take it off now!"

  My voice wasn't so strong enough to be a screech, but it had that same grade of desperation. It was all horrid now, for either I was right, and it was maddening, and it was all mad, or if I was wrong, then I would be mad, just the same. I really had gone too. Mad.

  He was trying to touch me. He had my arms and my back. I jerked away from him, in a slithering sort of quickness. Like he was something contaminated, I couldn't stand to be near. I couldn't stand his hand on me; it made my skin shiver. So I took a step back from that. And I tried for all my might to quiet all those rambling thousands of things of memories going through my head, and I only looked at him straight.

  "Cole," I spoke. "Never mind about that. Just tell me the name of that girl you loved. Tell me that instead and I won't see your face. I don't want to see it. I don't."

  Was I crying? I couldn't tell. No, I wasn't. My face wasn't wet. Wasn't I so cruel to poor Cole. Just some Kanthian, that had fallen in love, with a poor, mad princess. It hadn't just been saying it the once; it hadn't just been the stress of war. I really was mad; Cyric had driven me mad. The loss of him had.

  I thought I smiled. I thought I shrugged. "Just tell me quickly, Cole."

  But, now... why wasn't he speaking? And why had he gone still? And now... why was his hand, even shaking, instead of staying where it was, moving up to his face. I started shaking my head. "No, no, you don't understand. I said tell me about the girl. Tell me your mother's name. Tell me about Kanth. It's alright."

  But he shook his head.

  "Cole, I'm sorry," I spoke quickly. "I didn't mean it."

  "Don't say that, Ellia. Don't say that ever."

  "Please stop."

  "I can't."

  "Don't, don't." I felt a weight of anxiousness, like it was drowning me, in my throat. Those memories were all gone, and I was just here with Cole. And his hand was just to his neck. And I really did start crying, and I jerked a step towards him, hoping that I could stop him. But then he dipped his head. And it all came off at once. He only put his p
alm flat to the top of his head, almost the back of his head, instead of his neck, he put it there, and then he pulled it all down. I remember the way he'd taken my hood, that Cole had, and dropped it back for the Genbuans to see, and so, upon glancing at me, they'd changed their gazes, and said, "Oh," and knowing, the both of them, that I was a princess. And Cole had been smug about it, and Luffie had been pleased with him, thinking, this Kanthian isn't so bad.

  Well, now, Cole was moving his own, in just that simple way, and then it was gone.

  Everything was too silent. I could only see his head, the top of it. And there wasn't much to tell by it. His hair was cut short, as he'd said. Very short, so that I could only barely see those places where it was scarred beneath, or even too scarred to grow thick. Like swirls of red, only the top, and some lines. But it was just a head, and undefinable, and I could breathe once, until his hand fell way, the mask stuck around his neck. But instead of looking up towards me first, he looked over to the side as he lifted his head up—at the pillar? Or at the sky, or out over the wall, He looked there in a flash, then to me in a flash.

  Then it was all too late.

  I felt a sensation strike through my body, like all of everything had left me. I was perfectly without strength, and perfectly immovable at once. I tried, the first few seconds, or was it minutes, or how long was it, to convince myself it was all in my mind. I'd called him Cyric once before, hadn't I? So, that way his brow went, I could be seeing that as his, even though it looked different truly. And that cut of his nose, or the way his jaw was a little too thin, to be very manly, or the way his eyes disappeared the pupils and white, altogether, to something muted, that became so plain that it was utterly comforting in that face that was otherwise glowing with life and beauty. I saw ears, that were familiar. I saw the shadow of hair, and the dark outline of eyebrows, that defined him so readily. I knew his lips, that blended in well with the rest of his skin. Reddish, and warm.

  But there was something wrong. Because this face was also scarred. As I had seen, in those bits around his eyes. Cyric had always had deeply set eyes, but the way they were now, they looked less so, for the skin was thicker. Then over his cheek on one side, there was something that looked like it might be a fresh gash, but it couldn't have been, for I'd been with Cole all day; the skin around it was thick. Down his neck. There was another. In other places, even up around his ear, on the left side, it was thick and red skin. Certainly, he looked so very much like Cyric. But certainly, that all must have been in my mind. For Cyric wasn't scarred at all. Only Cole was.

  So for a moment, I could breathe; I drank a breath; its air was cold. And perhaps that was the thing, that gave my mind, the fresh burst it needed; not that it should have needed but what it needed nonetheless, that said, that my Cyric had come to contact, with my dragon.

  There was no escape for what I was seeing.

  And as soon as I realized this, all that itching in my nose, all that coughing in my throat. That hesitation. That reluctant, and half-laughing madness, and smiling, and pacing. It was all gone. I saw back through hundreds of moments. I saw him, shouting that his name was Cole. I saw him hunching over the bow of the ship on our way to Yanartas, staring at me. I saw him arguing desperately outside the complex, that he wasn't for Akadia. I felt his finger again, as I'd touched it when he'd strung his bow the way I'd told him, told, and saw him glancing quickly at me. The way his arrow had struck the target easily. The way he'd followed me everywhere, all the time. I remembered when he'd come to me, asking after my marriage to Lucian, and how angry I'd gotten with him. I remembered him staring after Amalia, oh, but of course he had! Of course!

  I remembered sitting there, on my bed beside him, telling him of Cyric! Of him! Oh, how I hated him. And how we'd sat across from each other in the Warrior's Chamber. How many times, had I longed for that, and he had. I remembered him racing off into the darkness, to make his way to Karatel, and my giving him my sword, without good reason. The darkness, Cyric?! The darkness!? How much work, did you mean for it?

  I remembered the way he'd fought Gael. He can't have lost, he can't have. I remembered him following me down to the ocean, and telling me he'd gone to Shaundakul. Oh, how I hated him. I remembered him following me around those days, and beside me at the springs, and speaking of Amalia, and Molec, and souls, and dear, but souls, how he'd spoken of souls. You can't love a woman and not love what comes from her. You can't love a woman and not love every part of her. It can't have been Cyric, it can't have been, who said these things. I remembered him, making it clear to Karatel in time, and fighting, and with a breath of air, I realized that Tosch, that that ivoronsu down there, in the forest, couldn't have been Minstrel's at all. And I remembered watching him stare out at the black horse in Karatel, and I remembered thinking through our kisses, back and forth, and back and forth; the way it had always gone, back and forth, but Cole had ruined it in Genbu. He'd kissed me. But he hadn't. It had been Cyric. And it had not been ruined.

  I heard my steps before I took them, and then with all of this in my mind, and more, and not the smallest bit of madness, I brought my hand out far to the side, and then I swung it sharp, with all the strength I had in me, to strike his face.

  The moment, I had. I could see the mark there from it. He did not bring his hand up to stop me; he had not. He only remained still, gripping his jaw, not looking at me now, but his eyes glossed over. I looked at him again, my eyes wide. I looked to see if I was seeing right. I gasped. And then I slapped him again, this time with a groan.

  He looked at me.

  I wanted to do it again.

  I shook my head instead. There was so much of a drowning in my throat, and chest, that I couldn't breathe, or do anything but stay there, hardly breathing. He spoke.

  "I'm—"

  "Don't say it," I told him. "Tell me you're not. Tell me I'm mad."

  "I—"

  "Oh, no, but you could have told me. You could have told me, so many times. I called you Cyric!"

  "I didn't deserve you."

  I couldn't breathe. I gasped a breath. I looked away from, then stared at him. "Cole!" I shouted. "Cole! What's wrong with you? I hate you!"

  "I'm sorry, Ellie. I'm sorry. Don't say that."

  I felt my chest rising and falling. I wished it didn't make sense, but I knew Cyric, my Cyric, and it did; it was just his way of handling things.

  "Don't you know how much I hate you!" I shouted at him.

  "I tried to tell you."

  "You tried? You tried?"

  "In Byako..."

  "Cyric,—" And I gasped, a breath, just by saying this only, just this word, just his name, coming from my lips, and I was really saying it, and he was really here. And it wasn't just me, since he, at the name, sucked in a breath too, and I remembered standing beside him on the balcony in Akadia, and saying that name, and causing that same reaction, and having it make me brave enough to kiss him, but this only reminded me of dancing there with him. "Cyric, we danced. You danced with me as Cole. I didn't even... you hadn't even told me anything. I didn't even see you before you were gone. I don't understand..."

  "You knew I loved you. I told you. I did those things—"

  "Things?!" I interrupted. It was hardly possible to believe he was here, me arguing with him. He was right there? This wasn't Cole. How had I not known? How had I not guessed it. Oh, that was him, wasn't it. "I wanted you. I was dying for you."

  "I stayed there with you."

  I started crying.

  He tried to touch me. He tried to TOUCH ME! I pushed his hand away. And then I didn't stop there. I punched his shoulder. Then I punched his chest. Then I shoved him with both hands, then I slammed my fists against his chest. I pushed him back, until he stopped letting me, shouting that I hated him.

  Then my tears were blurring my eyes, so that I wasn't sure whether I was seeing him, any longer. And I only started crying harder for it, because suddenly I was in a world where he was gone again, so my chest was gasping for
air, hyperventilating, and I had to move my hands, one from striking him, just to wipe the tears from my face, and the second, to his face, just to grab for where it was, just to keep it there. And it was with gasping, and feeling him shaking and breathing heavy, but still holding us up strong, that I wiped my tears away well enough to see him. And then I was staring at eyes, wide and grey, and terrified, and those same ones which I'd loved since he was so little, and I had seen him. And my hand was there, touching his cheek. I moved it to touch his chin, then his forehead, then brow, then to the back of his head, then with my other hand as well, I kissed him. I didn't even know what I was doing before I was clinging to his head, and kissing all of his face. I couldn't tell anything right for my tears, and for how tightly my eyes were closed. But my feet were no longer on the ground. My arms were wrapped around him, and my legs, and if there was any way, truly, to make him real, to turn him real with my kisses, and turn all of this real, then I was doing it.

  As for him, though he must have been holding me up, he did not react. His face stayed very still. His hands were holding my back, but barely. It was as if I were kissing a very strong statue, frozen terrified. It took a dozen repeated kisses on his lips, all laced in a row, before he reacted, till he couldn't stop himself otherwise. It was his lips moving with mine first. Then his hands moving from my back, to my hair, Then I thought he was moving backwards, then he stopped suddenly, then we were falling down, to the stone, so his hands were all for holding my head on either, side, and not for holding me up. I moved my kisses to his neck, only once, then it was too far, and it was back to his face.

  Finally I opened my eyes, to look at him, to see his eyes, but he was already watching me, and he really was Cyric. "I knew it was you," I told him.