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I straighten. “Yes?”
“I’ve a message from Unach 935,” he says. “Azmar is awake.”
My body fights with my mind the entire way to the infirmary. I’m desperate for speed and barely remember to defer to the trollis as I go. But the faster I run, the more my chest hurts, and the more fatigue drips into my veins. I’m sweating by the time I arrive, and my skull hammers with my pulse.
I stand in the doorway, shoulders heaving with each breath. A nurse busies herself at the sink. Unach stands over Azmar’s bed, speaking quietly to him. Azmar lies on his side, hair free and falling over the edge of the mattress, his eyelids heavy. He mutters something.
I take a step into the room, and his gaze shifts to find me.
His eyes widen.
I know what fear looks like. And even if I didn’t, the way Azmar jerks back from me, hissing as his wound pulls, and struggles to clamber from the bed as his sister holds him steady is sign enough.
My body hollows. Unach sees her brother’s distress and turns. Sees me.
“Lark—” she begins.
I grip the door frame. “A-Azmar, it’s me.” My voice quivers with my racing heartbeat. I dare to take a small step forward. “Azmar, it’s Lark.”
The glassiness doesn’t leave his eyes. He reaches for a sword that isn’t there. Teeth gritted, he tries to lunge for me, only to be stopped by his sister. His knee collides with the bed and knocks it over.
“Stop it!” Unach shouts, wrestling him down. “You’ll kill yourself!”
My chest sears like it’s been pierced with a hot poker, and all that I am wilts around the wound. Retreating into the shadows, half-blinded by my own tears, I mumble, “I-I shouldn’t be here.”
The sound of my own breaking is deafening.
I turn and run, but I don’t get far before I’m desperate for air. Pain engulfs my head and chest. Tears wet my nose and cheeks.
I knew it would be this way. I knew it would taint him, change him.
But seeing the look on Azmar’s face—the look of terror, the same across all the gods’ creatures—made it real. Tangible. Engulfing.
I wish I hadn’t come.
I wish I hadn’t seen it.
I wish Unach had left me at the bottom of the canyon.
Chapter 29
I’m leaving.
After two days of forced rest and heavy misery, the choice is easy. I cannot stay in Cagmar, despite all the hopes I’d pinned to it. I cannot be where Azmar is and not have him. I cannot heal with the reminder of what I’ve lost waiting at the end of every corridor, around every turn, within every wall. Even in my little apartment, he haunts me. Once, he sat on my floor, guarding me from Grodd. Now he would not stand in the same room as me. I don’t even have the excuse of pregnancy to tie him to me; my bleeding came, signaling the finality of it all.
Neither Azmar nor Unach has sought me out these past forty-eight hours, which only cements my sorrow. I have been utterly alone, save for a visit from Ritha, who misread my pain and increased my dosage of herbs. I swallowed all of them.
I rise from bed, feeling like a toddler just learning to walk. I am not entirely hopeless. Tayler mentioned crag snakes, and I have a general idea of where they nest. If I can find the crag snakes, I can find Tayler’s township, and I’ll be able to make a new home. Perhaps meet the Cosmodian and apprentice to her. I still have Ritha’s seeds as an offering. And if they turn me away, or I’m mistaken in Tayler’s location ... Icouldstrike out on my own, now that I know how the trollis eat. Stay near the canyon and garden, as they do. Or wander into the cooler parts of the mountains. Try to find water.
I’ll need to be careful. I don’t dare use my abilities should a creature of any sort decide to harm me. Not yet. My body has recuperated well, but I can feel in my bones that it isn’t yet prepared to channel the fear my mother gave me. I cannot leave Cagmar with a blade, but I could fashion a sling. I’ve grown decent at using one, and I’ll have plenty of time to practice.
Maybe I can coax double rations from the market, for the time I was away. Two weeks’ food would be adequate. I know my father’s map. I know how far I need to go. I only have to follow the canyon north.
I mournfully pack my few belongings, placing them into the bag the council gave me when they sent me into the desert. The one I had when I arrived is in Azmar’s apartment, and I cannot bear to visit. If Azmar has returned home, he will not want me there. I cannot see fear on his beautiful face again. My last few fibers will snap if I do, and I must preserve what little, pathetic strength I have left.
I will survive this, somehow. I always survive, one way or another.
I stand in my room, surveying its stone walls, hugging warmth into myself. It’s as though I never lived here, slept here. Yet I am very much like this chamber, empty, waiting to be filled.
