He sounded panicked.
She snorted.
“Is this the first time you see… hear… a woman cry?”
He bit his lip and shrugged. She saw a rosy tint take over the tops of his cheeks.
“Had I known this was the secret weapon to get you to behave…” She laughed out loud. Tears didn’t stop streamingdown her face. “I’m not upset that you’re not eating, or that you refuse to learn how to function blind, or even that you plunged into a lake with a rock attached to you. What upsets me is that you won’t talk to me. It’s like you’re punishing me through your silence, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it.”
“I… I’m not silent because of you.”
She knew that. But knowing it rationally and accepting it emotionally were different matters. Briar was tough. Over the years, she’d honed herself into a woman with clear principles and beliefs, a woman who depended only on herself and knew not to expect much from the people around her. She was more reliable and resilient than most, and she’d come to acknowledge it as fact. She didn’t hold it against them that they couldn’t be like her. It was her choice to stay or to leave, to pursue or back away when the pursuit proved to be more trouble than it was worth. However, there was one thing that could bring her down, lock her inside her head and torment her with spiraling thoughts.
Silence.
When she did her absolute best, weighed all options and found the one that benefited her and the people involved, did all the work to achieve the envisioned result, and in return she was met with… silence.
People were different, they battled their own demons.
Silence was Briar’s demon. She had yet to win one against it.
“I don’t talk because… what would I talk about?” he said. “I don’t have the right to say anything. I am a useless lump. A burden to you, like I was a burden to her. I went to the bottom of that lake because I know the world would be a better place without me. I’m not saying that to be… dramatic. It’s the truth of what I am. Bad people will use me for the worst. Good people, like you, will only suffer because of me.”
“No, you can do good.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Can’t you see how special you are? You’re strong, you don’t tire, you don’t get sick, you heal instantly, you can’t die. You’re a master weaver. There are so few of them in the world.”
“None of it is my own doing.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll reach the convent tomorrow and you can be… our master weaver. We have a vault filled with relics. You can win us the war.”
He gave her a lopsided smile, didn’t agree with her, nor contradict her.
The tears had ceased. She herself had been trying to figure out why she was risking her life to bring Rune to Saint Vivia’s. The convent would be a sanctuary to him, and he’d be an asset to them. His life could have meaning. Once he saw that, he’d drop all thought of not wanting to exist.
“Let’s eat and sleep,” she said. “Tomorrow, we’ll be home.”
Rune cleaned his plate and emptied the bowl of broth.
That night, Briar forwent the rope.
Chapter Fourteen
She deserved to feel the effects of her own manipulation, of the anguish she inflicted.
Seraphina ached everywhere. She was in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware that she was in a bare room, lying in an old, creaky bed, on a lumpy mattress. Her vision was blurry, as if a slippery fog was wrapped around her eyeballs; she blinked relentlessly, fighting it, and sometimes was rewarded with Idris’s concerned face hovering over her. His undereyes were puffy and purple; there were harsh lines around his lips.
“It’s pneumonia,” he said. “But you shouldn’t be worsening this fast.”
He propped her head up and made her drink something. It tasted woody and bitter – willow bark tea. She sputtered and pulled away.
“You must,” he begged. “I pinned an Antipyretic Net above your head, but you must get some medicine in you.”
She shook her head and coughed.
“You need to eat something too, or your body won’t have the strength to heal.”
He pushed a piece of cheese between her lips, and she chewed and swallowed so as not to disappoint him. He fed her hardtack soaked in pea soup. It was all tasteless. At first, it seemed like her stomach welcomed the food, then she doubled over, gripped the edge of the bed, and vomited all of it.
“I can’t,” she whispered, wiping her mouth.
