by T D Cloud
Sorin tried to find his voice. “You don’t understand the situation,” he said lowly, only for Khouri to turn his glare onto him instead of Navidae. The words dried up on Sorin’s tongue, sticking to the roof of his mouth with a bitterness he didn’t like.
“And whose fault is that?” Khouri whispered. “I’m so fucking embarrassed. All these people... They know. They looked at me and talked to me and… and you didn’t even tell me. I could have helped. I could have…” He trailed off, hiding his face from them both as his shoulders began to hitch.
Navidae shared a look with Sorin. Sorin had no idea what to do. There were too many people here, too many ears listening and eyes watching and vultures hungry for any sign of weakness.
Navidae loosened his grip on Khouri. Khouri sagged against the wall, burying his face in his hands.
“Khouri…” Navidae’s voice was gentle, his hand hesitant as he reached out to set it on Khouri’s bare arm.
Khouri threw off his hand, lifting his head to glare at them both. He shoved past Navidae and away from the wall. “Stop,” he said, voice weak, his shoulders beginning to tremble. “Don’t touch me.”
Sorin didn’t know why he thought Khouri might let him instead. He reached out too but Khouri just hardened his eyes and took a step back, closer to the crowd. One more step and he’d be seen by everyone. “Don’t you dare try it. You’re just as bad as him,” he spat, tears beginning to run down his cheeks in thick black lines. He closed his eyes tightly and fought to compose himself. When it didn’t work he just gave up trying. “I can’t believe I let you trick me again.”
He spun on his heel, his bleeding, cut heel, and dove into the crowd before Sorin could manage to find his voice again. With his head down and his shoulders slouched he cut through the absent-minded nobles and disappeared through the door. Sorin clenched his hands on empty air, bile rising quickly in the back of his throat. He turned woodenly to face Navidae when the man let out a harsh sigh, and found him with his back against the wall and his hands over his eyes.
“You need to go after him,” Sorin said, his own body urging him to follow the blood trail. “You need to explain what’s going on.”
Navidae dragged his hands down his face, shaking his head. “I can’t leave the party,” he answered, his voice void of emotion. “I haven’t gotten what I came here for.”
Sorin stared at him. Navidae just hung his head. “What do you mean. You won’t go after him?” Sorin
whispered, his hands tightening into fists. “Do you have any idea of how upset he is? He’ll hate you if you don’t leave.”
Navidae came to life in an instant, baring his teeth at Sorin. Fire burned in his bloody eyes and though he was shorter than Sorin, he didn’t let it stop him from staring him down.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” the man hissed, his voice low, his eyes wild. “Do you think I don’t want to? If I leave... If I just give up now, it won’t matter if he hates me or not. I’ll lose him regardless.” He inhaled and exhaled rapidly, shoving past Sorin to rejoin the crowd. He spared a glance over his shoulder. “He can hate me, Sorin. So long as he’s safe, he can hate me.
I’ll accept it.”
Sorin bit down on his inner cheek so hard that he tasted blood. “You’re lying again.”
But Navidae didn’t turn around. He just disappeared into the crowd and let that be the end of it.
Sorin stood in the shadows and watched him go, that faux smile on his face as he quickly brushed off curious questions, probing eyes, and the intent heavy in every Drow’s voice. He stood and he watched, and when Navidae put his arm around the shoulders of another noble, taking them aside to begin his whole plan again… Sorin stopped watching. He stopped watching Navidae and he began the arduous process of shouldering through the crowd, following the trail of blood.
Navidae had better fix things tonight, because at this rate there would be nothing left to protect come morning.
Chapter Twelve
The pain in Navidae’s cheek didn’t abate for the rest of the gala. Be it from Khouri’s slap or the feckless smile he had to keep up long afterwards, he didn’t know. Navidae itched beneath his skin as the seconds crept by like mold, slow and unhurried. Despite the goal he had set for himself at the beginning of the evening, Navidae longed for the night to just end already.
His thoughts weren’t on business anymore, but on Khouri and what he might have waiting for him upstairs.
“—and as I’ve told you before, it’s just so dreadfully gouache,” Regani prattled on, waving her wine glass in the air with the levity of the unburdened. Navidae had long stopped listening to her, merely nodding now and again when she stopped talking, expecting a response of some sort. He broke from his self-loathing long enough to meet her eye, stopping her from going off on yet another tangent.
“The night’s nearly run its course,” he told her, narrowing his eyes when she smoothly avoided them. She stared across the thinning hall and watched as yet another handful of nobles bid farewell and pronounced the party dead. “Are you going to give me an answer or will you continue to avoid the topic entirely?”
Regani brought her glass to her lips. She certainly still avoided his eye. She rolled her bare shoulders dismissively, smacking her lips a little after she had drained her glass dry. “I would like to think you know me well enough by now to know what my silence on the matter would imply,” she said simply.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” he muttered. He took the glass from her and forced her to look at him fully. It felt like the first time that evening that she had. Blindly he shoved the glass into someone’s chest, his full attention on her and her alone. “Regani. Come on. How long have we known each other? How long have we been friends?”
“Long enough that I would hope you’d know better than to try this with me,” Regani said dispassionately.
Navidae’s mood had plummeted more and more every hour since Khouri had left the party. It hadn’t started very high to begin with, but these… these constant dismissals and knowing smiles he’d been given by everyone he spoke to… They were wearing on him. More and more each time. He bared his teeth and forced himself to relax before he did something else he’d regret.
“Long enough that I would hope you would put some faith in me,” he pressed, hating how she looked at the floor.
“Faith in what, Navidae? In exactly what?” Her words were harsh, clipped. “I’ve watched you all night. You’ve gathered no support. You’ve achieved nothing that might help you win this, and after that abysmal display with your pet I’d say that I’m not the only one who sees a losing cause in the making. I’ve worked too hard to let myself be dragged down into the mud for—”
“For me?” he interrupted, his tone acerbic enough to entice her into meeting his gaze. “For the man you’ve known since childhood?”
Regani’s eyes hardened. “For a stupid mistake you made, Navidae,” she delivered steadily. “I’m not doing it. Think what you will of me. I pity what’s to become of you but it’s out of my hands.” Her shoulders rose and fell, her breathing evening out. Within a few seconds she had composed herself; how Navidae wished he could distance himself from these feelings as easily. “The night is nearing its end. I suggest you get some rest, Navidae. I’ll be taking my leave now just as soon as I find that despicable husband of mine…”
Her voice trailed off as she looked over Navidae’s shoulder for him, and that left Navidae with nothing more than what he had started with. No, not even that. Somehow he had lost even more with this with what had happened with Khouri.
The party was ending. People were filtering out slowly, nodding to him as they left. Navidae knew he should see them out; it was his job as host to play nice, after all. To make sure that they had enjoyed their evening and thought no less of him at the end of it. But Navidae… He was in no mood to pretend anymore. The hall was emptying fast. He stepped in front of Regani, pressing her against the wall upon which she leaned.
Sh
e didn’t smile. She simply raised a brow expectantly, waiting to see what he intended to do.
He tasted her gasp against his lips when he kissed her. Her lips parted and her hand immediately seized his shoulder, and Navidae was quick to grab her by the wrist, holding it against the stone. There were eyes burning holes against his back. Her husband, perhaps.
“Regani,” Navidae whispered, his voice low, her breathing labored. “Don’t make me beg.”
She stared at him and bit her glossy lips. Her nostrils flared but then something came over her. She closed her eyes and turned away, pulling her hand free as she shouldered herself away from the wall. From him.
“I won’t,” she answered, lifting a hand to gesture her husband to come. When she did deign to look at Navidae, it was with pity he couldn’t stand to see. “Because I’ve made my decision, Navidae. I suggest you seek other options.”
Navidae’s hands closed into fists. There were no other options. He felt the words coil atop his tongue, barbed darts aching to be lobbed at her traitorous back.
“Please,” he called out, closing his eyes, his head turned downwards to hide. He heard her pause, her clicking heels freezing in place as his voice rolled through the empty room. “Regani. Please. Don’t do this.” Not here. Not now. Not when he had nowhere else to turn.
He kept his eyes shut as she told her husband to stay. He kept them shut even as she walked back to him. A hand touched his cheek, bringing his face up. He opened his eyes to the sight of her pitying stare, and he knew already that she hadn’t come back to help.
“It’s just a pity this didn’t happen before I married,” Regani whispered, leaning in to kiss him one last time on the cheek.
The tease of her nails against his skin felt like a broken promise. “I would have given you my name in a heartbeat.”
The worst thing about that admittance was that he knew she meant it to be comforting.
Navidae managed a rueful smile as he recoiled from her touch. “And be your permanent pet?” He scoffed. “I’d rather take my chances.” Except he wouldn’t. Not when there was far more at risk than just himself. But Regani didn’t care. She didn’t care about Khouri, and she didn’t care about Navidae enough to risk what she had built for herself just to salvage what he’d so willfully, stupidly jeopardized in a fit of pique. “You should go, Regani. Clearly there’s nothing left for you here.”
Her hand hovered in the air, her lips parting as if to say something. Her husband, useless as he was, hovered at her side and rested his hand on her shoulder. His touched made her think better of saying something. Regani Netherin closed her eyes and shook her head, turning away from Navidae.
Navidae listened to her heels click against the stone.
Cold comfort it brought to hear her leave. The sound faded into silence, and then Navidae was alone in his banquet hall with nothing but the vestiges of a party whose purpose had come and gone with nothing to show for it.
Nothing, that is, beyond breaking Navidae just a little bit more.
Dezik and Nvidia lingered at the end of the hall. Like most of the help, they barely warranted mention. They stared at him even as he ignored them.
“See to the clean up,” Navidae said, knowing if he didn’t that they would just bother him about it later. “I want this place spotless by morning.”
They rushed to bow, but not fast enough to hide the look they shared between them. “Yes, Milord,” Dezik recited.
“We wish you a pleasant evening,” Nvidia murmured. Navidae struggled not to roll his eyes at that. Every word they spoke was layered with curiosity and cold, probing intent. “Get out of my sight,” he muttered, watching them scramble off before he made for the stairs. He kneaded at his eyes and scaled the steps blind, longing for an outlet that wouldn’t backfire on him like everything else in this world seemed so wont to do.
Once he reached the landing, he dragged his hands down his cheeks tiredly. The guilt and anxiety—born from Khouri’s sudden exit, not the rest of the problems plaguing him—rose up again when he realized what he still had yet to do this evening. Navidae’s shoulders bowed with the weight of it all. He sighed heavily, forcing his feet to move. It was just Khouri, he told himself as if that would be some comfort after how badly he had fucked up. He knew Khouri, and he knew what to expect to be waiting for him in their room. It would be debilitating and painful beyond measure—but it was still Khouri.
What Navidae hadn’t expected, though, was to turn the corner and see Sorin standing in the hall just outside his room, foot against the wall and scuffing the ornate wallpaper worth more than the entirety of his outfit.
Navidae schooled his expression as quickly as he could, a frown settling across his lips at the sight. Sorin looked at him the moment he turned the corner, so it was clear that he had been waiting for him to come back. Just what Navidae needed on top of the rest of this evening. His luck truly was legendary.
“It’s about time you came up here,” Sorin said, breaking the silence when Navidae just kept walking forward, passing him without a second glance. Cool, judgmental eyes followed though, so Navidae knew it would take more than that to deter the hunter.
“I had business to conclude,” he said tersely. And alliances to end. Friendships to question. Regrets to loathe. Navidae rested his hand on the door, trying the knob.
It was locked. It figured. It really fucking did.
“He’s refusing to come out. He would shout at me a bit when I called out, but now he’s just quiet.”
Navidae swallowed the lump of iron in his throat, keeping his eyes on the door. Sorin’s were burning holes in his back. Gods Below, how much more could this night take from him? The one saving grace was that the door was too thick to let their voices carry through into the room beyond. Khouri wouldn’t hear this. He wouldn’t hear Navidae’s weakness as he turned slowly to look at Sorin.
His lips burned when he took in a breath and let it out. “What should I do, then?” he asked, because who else could he ask? Who else would care to help? Living with Khouri’s anger before had been a torture all its own, but this… This was so much worse.
Sorin kicked off the wall, leaving a scuffed footprint behind. “Do what you’re always too scared to do,” he said, crossing his arms. “Apologize.”
Navidae couldn’t help but snort. “Such a wealth of wisdom you are,” he muttered, looking back at the closed door. Was Khouri sleeping? Was he crying? Was he waiting in the dark for Navidae to… to what? To lie to him? To tell him that things were better than they were, that there wasn’t the risk of everything crumbling around their heads? “This isn’t… This isn’t some childish surface spat.
Things aren’t so simple down—”
“That’s a load of shit and you know it.” Slowly, Navidae looked back at Sorin. The human was glaring furiously now, his hands balled up into fists at his sides. “The world doesn’t change just because you go beneath the ground. Khouri isn’t some politician for you to appease. If you want him to trust you, then start by trusting him. Say you’re fucking sorry.”
When Navidae said nothing, Sorin made a disgusted sound and turned on his heel. “Or don’t,” he said as he began to walk away. “I’ve said my piece to him but we both know it’s yours he needs to hear now. I’m going the fuck to bed. Fix it before I wake up or the Council will be the least of your worries.”
For the briefest of moments, Navidae sincerely wanted to throw something at Sorin’s head. It wouldn’t help things; if anything it would markedly make it worse. That didn’t stop him from wanting to do it anyway. Navidae tore himself away from it though, looking back at the door. He needed to think about Khouri right now. Not childish fits of pique or the frustration he felt from Sorin’s asinine words. Khouri came first. He always came first.
So, Navidae rapped his knuckles against the wood, calling out with as much energy as he could summon after the turmoil that had been his evening. “Khouri?” he tried, making sure to be loud. “Khouri, can we talk? Plea
se?”
Silence greeted him. Navidae knocked harder, pressing himself against the door. “Khouri? Are you awake?” Did he still have the old key to this door? Gods, but this had never happened before. Would it make things worse if he opened it himself? He’d probably need to find Nvidia to get the key. She was likely the only one who knew where it was kept after his mother left the manor, but she was no doubt in the ballroom attending to the mess. It would be agony to wait knowing Khouri was in such a state. Agony to leave and go find her knowing Khouri was alone and feeling so hurt.
He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool wood. It was already agony. His entire life had turned to agony, and now… “Khouri. Please. Just tell me you’re alright. I…” He took in a deep breath, hating how much he shook. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”
If Khouri hated him… If Khouri hated him, then he had already lost.
More silence. More loathed silence. What could he do? He’d apologized. He’d done what Sorin said to do, and yet—
Click.
Navidae’s eyes opened, his lips parting in disbelief. Had he just… He slowly brought his hand to the doorknob, twisting it slowly, so slowly.
“Thank you,” he breathed. He wasn’t even sure who he was thanking. The Gods hadn’t bothered listening to any of his prayers before. But he was thankful. He was so thankful. If he could just fix this one thing, he might begin to feel as if he had some control back.
When Navidae finally opened the door, he saw that Khouri was just reaching the bed. Despite the hours it had been since the party, he still wore his gown. His bloodstained shoes had been tossed off near the wall, probably thrown if Navidae had to guess. The sheets were disheveled, the pillows thrown about. As Khouri crawled into the bed, his back to Navidae, Navidae could see just how upset he must have been. Their room was a mess and Khouri looked like he matched.
More pressing was the blood speckling the fabric. Khouri’s bare foot was just a flicker of dark against the sheets. Navidae only saw it for a second or two before Khouri hid it under the skirt of his gown. Stepped in glass, Sorin had said.