Ten

         “Don’t cry.” He said his deep voice pitched low with sorry. He knelt beside the bed, clawed hands resting on the covers. I was suddenly horrified, revulsion and a deep loathing for myself washing up from the center of my body and pouring out in wracking sobs. Aion why!? Why Elethor of all people to see me like that, broken and abused? It wasn’t logical of me to feel the way I did, but it did not stop me from feeling that way none the less. It would have been better that a stranger had found me, but not Elethor.


         When my tears would not abate he stood, liquid grace and put an arm behind my shoulders leaning me forward carefully and climbed into the bed behind me, he rested his legs on either side of me and wrapped his arms around me, drawing me to his chest, tucking my head beneath his chin as you would do for a small child. His clawed hands were gentle around my wrists, holding my arms to my body as he rocked me, making soothing noises into my hair.

         I wept bitterly, the sorrow at the loss of them for the last thousand years stained my cheeks, until I felt empty and hollow, yet still the tears came. He murmured over and over into my hair that everything would be well, that it was all right to cry, and in that moment I felt weak. It was not a good feeling. I don’t know how long we were like that, or how long it took for the sobs to turn to hiccups before falling quiescent all together.

         I slept and I remembered.

         The shade from the tree was cool and the day a lazy one. I leaned my back against the rough bark; legs outstretched a small book of some silly romance or other in my hands. Elethor lay at an acute angle from me, head in my lap as he read something of his own for some bit of spell or other. He chewed a piece of grass deep in thought as I played thoughtlessly with a lock of his hair with my free hand.

         Zenton had stopped talking to me several days earlier, as the peace talks with the Balaur were just weeks away, our disagreements on the subject had grown heated before finally he had struck me. Open handed across the face. Claire, Evensong and Elethor had all been there. They had stopped talking to Zenton, and would remain silent until there was an apology, which was likely never going to happen.


        Claire had earned herself extra lessons for insubordination… why were any of us not surprised? Evensong had been sent to Sanctum on a currier mission. So it was just Elethor and I today.


        I set my book down and studied my friend’s face in the dappled light from beneath our tree’s canopy. His brow was furrowed slightly at what he read in his tome, the set of his mouth grim with concentration. I looked at my silly little book and how he lay so comfortably in my lap and gave a short laugh. His eyes flicked from the page to my face.


      “What?” he asked.


      “You.” I said.


        His brow creased but his eyes gave him away with how they sparkled. “What about me?” he asked.


       “We keep this up.” I quipped taking in the scene with a sweep of my hand. “People are going to think we’re lovers.”


         His eyes darkened with a look I could not define, and his mood was suddenly very serious. I expected him to say how ridiculous the prospect was; his voice when it came was low and intense and shocked me with what he said.


       “Would being my lover be so terrible Sirona?” heat and darkness filled his eyes when he posed the question and suddenly my heart was in my throat, I smoothed my fingers absently through the silk of his hair and put my book back in front of my face to hide the color that crept up into my cheeks. My chest felt tight and funny and my mind raced but I forced myself to present an affectation of calm, Elethor’s gaze was intense as he considered me before he shifted, cuddling himself into my lap further. Nothing more was said as we continued to read and I played with his hair, but the atmosphere in our little place beneath the tree suddenly felt charged and it remained that way as he walked me back to the cloister.

          I inhaled deeply, and let my arms slip around Aalairius’ hips in the dark as I lay with my head on his chest. He stiffened beneath me, muscle gone to wood as his entire body went rigid beneath me. I brought my head up sharply and blinked, but not at my beloved. Elethor’s eyes were a little wide and glimmered red at me. I hastily removed my arms and tried to push myself up off of him but my body protested with sharp grinding pain from everywhere. He caught me up and slipped out from the bed, easing me back down into the mattress. My face flamed with embarrassment but before he could finish opening his mouth to speak to me a knock resounded on the bedchamber door.

         I lay my hands in my lap calmly and pursed my lips. Elethor’s shoulders sagged in frustration and he bit off what he had been about to say as he turned, and marched purposefully to the door, He wedged himself in such a way that when he opened the door the person on the opposite side would not be able to see me, using his own body to shield my broken one from view.

        He opened the door and a musical voice greeted him. “Elethor!” his shoulders sank as he took in whoever had shown at his door before saying in Old Daevic, “I told you to come alone in my missive Evensong.”

         Silence. Finally the voice came again. “Why are you talking like this Elethor? What’s wrong with Haji being here?” Elethor let out a string of Asmodian words that I could only imagine were curses, I tried to commit them to memory for Toxemia, should I ever see my friend again.

        “Can you keep your man in check?” he asked her in the old tongue, and I surmised that this was more for my benefit than anything.

         “Elethor, what the bloody blue blazes is wrong with you? You’ve never had a problem with Ha—“ her words died on her lips as Elethor yanked open the door and stepped aside revealing me to Evensong’s view as battered as I was.

         “Hello Evensong.” I said calmly.