Chapter 66
Body aching worse than after any battle, Siniq-elb crawled across the floor toward the stairs. Vas had nodded in response to Siniq-elb’s inquiries, but he would not speak. The stout man’s dark eyes left the buried knife blade only to wander the empty chamber and the terraced pit. Siniq-elb did not know what else to do for him; had it been anyone else, he would have sought out Vas, brought Vas to help. Vas was the one who knew how to help people, who knew how to comfort. Siniq-elb—well, he couldn’t feel anything at the moment except concern for Mece, and even that concern flickered under the weight of the emptiness inside him. So he crawled for Mece.
Halfway to her, he found one crutch, and then just a few steps below he found the second. Crutches under one arm, Siniq-elb knelt next to Mece. She lay across three steps, one arm pillowing her head, her breasts rising and falling with soft breaths. She was alive. Siniq-elb let out a sigh of relief.
He cupped her chin in one hand and gently lifted her head, checking for injuries. There were already the yellow outlines of a bruise forming from her temple to her jaw, but the skull seemed whole, and as he probed at the wound, Mece let out a groan. A moment later she opened her eyes, the color of fresh-blooming lavender, of spring, of life. Of hope. Then she closed them again, lines growing at the corners of her eyes.
“Mece,” Siniq-elb said.
She nodded, lifting her head and pressing one hand to her temple. “Tair help me, but that hurts. What happened?”
“Khylar hit you, you were trying to escape.”
“And where is that whoreson now?”
“Dead,” Siniq-elb said. “I killed him.” Then, after a moment, a chill settled in his bones. “Vas killed him.”
Mece opened her eyes again, studying his face. Siniq-elb realized that he still cupped her chin, her skin as soft as harvest moonlight. They were close, so close that it seemed they shared a single breath, that the world had fallen into rhythm with the beating of a single, mutual heart. In spite of the pit, in spite of the cutting smell of chemicals, in spite of the death and emptiness inside of him, Siniq-elb had never felt himself so intimately connected to another person. To live was to make a choice. He leaned in, her breath burning his lips, fanning the fire in his heart, and kissed her.
When he pulled back, he could still taste her on his lips, like autumn leaves and sunlight, warmth where before there had been only shadow. Splinters of heat ran through the chill within him, like hot glass tossed in water, and a heartbeat later, the darkness shattered, leaving him raw and wounded inside, vulnerable, afraid, in love, alive.
Whole.