Page 142 of The Trials of Ophelia

“No.” Jezzie’s lips pulled into a tight line. “It doesn’t.”

Despite my friends’ jokes at my lack of patience and the confusion from the interrogation, I enjoyed the mindlessness of the braiding. My muscles loosened as we worked, fingers absently taking control.

Apparently, this style of rope braiding was something the Mindshapers practiced often with cords produced by Bodymelders—it was how Esmond and Gatrielle guessed their purpose. Trevaneth set up an assembly line to guarantee we wouldn’t hinder each other’s progress and could finish the task as quickly as possible.

Though I was the only one who would be dropping into the pit—a fact none of my family was fond of, but one Ric insisted must be—they were all allowed to assist with the construction of the materials. Which was good, considering how deep the descent would be.

Well into the session, our lengths of completed rope growing longer, I found myself sitting with Tolek, Jezebel, Cypherion, Santorina, and Malakai.

My heart clenched to think about the many times we’d sat around tables like this before life had turned ruinous. Though my sister had not normally joined us, it was right that she was here now. She was always meant to be a part of us.

Though we’d seen more death and destruction than I’d imagined possible, we could still sit here. Be here. Maybe not whole as we once were, but together. Each with our own wounds buried beneath our skin, but our paths still converging, our shoulders still holding the others up.

“Malakai?” I waited for him to look at me, then I jerked my chin toward someone behind him. “How is she?”

Though I was sure he knew who I meant, he followed my gaze. Mila sat on her own, a length of rope sliding through her fingers. She didn’t follow the pattern as the rest of us had; instead, she let the rough material twist around itself and back out again. Vale sat nearby keeping an eye on her without turning too much attention on the general.

“She’s f—” Malakai paused, releasing a breath that deflated his body. “I don’t know.” He tugged at the rope more aggressively. “She hasn’t spoken since she told me of the intruder. Not even to me.”

Under the dim reach of the mystlight, I could barely make out his expression. Brows furrowed and jaw grinding.

“I believe all we can offer her is time,” Santorina said. “Something happened to trigger her while she was stuck in there. We can’t force her to speak about it.”

“She’s strong, Mali,” Cypherion encouraged. “She’s clearly been through something traumatic, but it will not be the end.”

“I know.” Malakai flicked a distressed look over his shoulder again, and I recognized something in it. A melding of defensive and soft each time he found her.

Protectiveness.

It was deeply rooted, beyond a warrior and his general. Likely beyond friendship, if I knew his tells as well as I thought I did. I’d once been on the receiving end of them, after all. His inner struggle between shielding and soothing was something I’d experienced all our lives.

It had become a wedge between us, that conflicting attitude. But now, as he restrained himself from running to her and demanding answers or closing himself away to hide, as he sat here where she may need him but not infringing on her space, he was balancing those instincts whether he realized it or not. Someone was making him want to.

Malakai cared for Mila, and I wondered if he even realized how deeply the extent of those feelings stretched.

As my fingers continued to work the rope mindlessly, I looked up at Tolek beside me and nudged him with my elbow. One corner of his lips lifted, a brow quirking.

Yes? it said.

I flicked my gaze back to Malakai and over his shoulder as if to say, Do you see what I’m seeing?

Tol shook his head with a laugh. If we were alone, I knew the answer would be: You’re just catching on?

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my work. Tolek leaned down to kiss my temple, letting our silent exchange melt between us.

Cypherion and Santorina were updating Malakai on Rina’s progress with her human training program. Her last correspondence was before we went below ground but Ezalia’s brother, Leo, had been recruiting widely. He’d used their shell communication to inform her when he needed to write, which the boys found fascinating. Between Mystique and Seawatcher territories, there were a number of human cities, and residents were eager.

“Were you able to speak to anyone in Bodymelder territory before…” Malakai trailed off.

Santorina shook her head, her long ponytail swaying. “We didn’t stop in any villages on our way.”

“We didn’t want Kakias to target them if she found out I was there,” I added. Again, exhilaration buzzed through me at the reminder that I was free of the queen’s poison.

Malakai nodded, understanding the weight of lives on my shoulders better than anyone. “Esmond and Gatrielle would help, I bet. If you haven’t already spoken to them about it.”

“I have a bit,” Santorina confirmed. “Before Daminius, I told Esmond of my dream to see humans as prepared against threats as warriors are. So we do not have to rely on others to fight our battles. We may not be a match for fae, still,” Rina muttered, hand absently coming to her neck. Was she remembering our first encounter with Lancaster? She’d sworn she was not upset Tolek and I now had bargains with the fae because she knew we needed them, but a piece of me thought that wasn’t the whole truth.

“Humans can help, though. This war is greater than the clans.” Rina’s eyes lifted to my neck, landing on the shard of Angelborn. “That one likely is, too.”

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