The silence was profound. Antal’s tail twitched to a halt as he watched. When Astrid started breathing again, the motion hitched, a shallow rasp against Fi’s neck.
“I’m sorry, Astrid.” Fi knotted fingers into her shirt, into her ice-damp hair.
Astrid stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“I was young. I was so young and so scared, and everything was a blur as I ran, and even when I thought of going back, I couldn’tbreatheby the end of it. That doesn’t begin to excuse what I did. You meant the world to me, Astrid. And I abandoned you. I left you toher. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I’ve been every bit the coward you’ve accused me of.”
“Fi. What are youdoing?” Astrid’s words shook.
Fi pulled back. She brushed a thumb to Astrid’s lips, raw and chapped, but only fiercer for it. Hers, once. Never again. “I won’t be a coward anymore. I spent all this time wishing I could undo what happened. I see now… things can never go back to how they were between us.” She swallowed, a razor lodged in her throat. “But we can do better than this.”
All those years ago, Fi ran because she was afraid—afraid of Verne, afraid of how Astrid would look at her when she learned what Fi had done. Could facing that fear have circumvented all this?
She could never know. She could only choose what happened next.
Fi stood.
“Go,” she ordered.
Astrid looked up at her with stricken eyes. Tears on her lashes. “What?”
“Go. Walk away from this, Astrid. You’re done fighting.”
Her lips quivered disbelief. And fear. “But Verne…”
“You’re done serving Verne!” Fi’s shout rang across the ice like a crack of thunder. Then, softer, “I got to run away last time. Now, it’s your turn. Run away, and I’ll stay behind to finish this. I’ll make sure Verne doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
Astrid stood with the resolve of damp paper, bent at the ribs. Bafflement was an uncommon pinch to her face, an unguarded glimpse of the person Fi used to know.
Warier, Astrid looked to Antal, appraising the daeyari’s bared fangs and stiff tail with the tension of a snared rabbit.
“Don’t look athim.” Fi grabbed Astrid’s shirt in both fists, forcing their faces together. “This is between you and me. It always has been. You called me to Thomaskweld. You dragged me into this fight.” Her grip slackened, breaths turned uneven. “Let’s finally be done with this, Astrid.”
Astrid didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Petrified, like granite.
Then, wide eyes and a whispered, “You can’t beat her, Fi.”
“Really? Because you look like shit. We drove that Beast out of Nyskya. Verne’s next. Don’t be a part of that, Astrid.” Fi released her. Pointed at the Curtain. “Walk away.”
Astrid hesitated. Again, her glance cut to Antal, confusion growing when the beast didn’t lunge, claws restrained by the command of the human at his side.
Antal scowled at Fi, tail an aggravated flick. She returned a glower that ought to make even an immortal tremble.
“Fionamara’s offer is generous,” Antal conceded in a warning growl. “You should take it, Arbiter. Swiftly.”
Astrid’s eyes flicked between them, still confused. She swayed back a step. “Fi—”
“Go.” Fi willed everything into the plea. All her hope. All her apology. “Please, Astrid. Just… go.”
Those ruby eyes were made to chisel Fi’s heart. She got one last look at them, wide and bright and straining with a thousand words unsaid.
Then, Astrid fled through the Curtain.
Fi counted the time in breaths. In the thrum of her heart against her sternum. In the soft crunch of ice as Antal moved to her side.
She waited long enough for Astrid to disappear.
Merciless Void, Fi hoped this was the right decision.
