Page 26 of Aubade Rising
When I wake the sky is darker outside and my head is more agreeable. I shuffle to the edge of the bed, eyes firmly closed until I’m upright. No dizziness so far. Cracking open my eyes in the dim light, my head thumps harder but it’s not unbearable and my unsettled stomach craves food.
Haelyn has taken up residence on one of the sofas in my lounge – food and drink detritus from several meals surround her and books are strewn across her lap. Her face floods with relief when I appear, leaning heavily on the doorframe from my bedroom.
“How’re you feeling?” Her voice rings loudly and the words take their time to form into coherent order. My eyebrows furrow and I relax my face to combat a stabbing pain that shoots across my forehead.
Haelyn guides me to the sofa. “What do you remember?”
“Being dragged away from the crowds. Then a loud scream. My head?”
She nods. “Eskar found you being taken by two rebels. He said you put up quite a fight.” Haelyn smiles ruefully. “He managed to rescue you but you got injured. When you lost consciousness, he panicked and rushed you straight back to the palace.”
I look round the room again, expecting to see him lurking.
“He’s not here. He let one of your kidnappers escape because he chose to protect you first. The King is furious,” Haelyn continues, “and Dervla is incensed; apparently some of the Concord decided to let you act as bait for rebel sympathisers. They told the ferrymen to let you into the city unescorted. They were unsure of your allegiance but I guess being nearly kidnapped proves that at least. Eskar is being punished for killing one of your attackers and letting the other get away; the court wanted to question them. I haven’t seen him for a couple of days, but Dervla says she’s working on his release.”
“Killing?”
“Err yes…” She coughs awkwardly. “He said he had no choice.”
After a time, the silence I’ve created becomes oppressive. Haelyn shifts in her seat but I can’t even bring myself to acknowledge her. My thoughts are jumbled and I’m struggling to reconcile what Eskar has done alongside the fact that I was attacked in my own hometown. I’ve walked through the city so many times. It’s a weird thing to be grateful to the magic that saved me but also fearful of it.
When Haelyn leaves, I remain on the sofa. My heads throbs. Drifting in and out of sleep, I watch the candle’s flames flicker and the wax trickle down the sides, until a sharp knock on my door startles me. The candle flames dance across the walls as I open the door.
Eskar’s tall frame fills the doorway. We stare at each other. His stubble is darker than usual, his eyes hollow and bruised. Heflinches as his eyes pass over my forehead and I raise my hand to the source of my headache. As my fingers test a lump above my right eye, my vision sways and nausea rushes up my throat. I crumple towards the floor but he catches me.
Grey stars swim in front of my face as he lays me on the sofa and holds my hand. Satisfied I’m not going to throw up, I open my eyes.
“Can I get you anything? Water, a compress?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” My cheeks redden at his persistence.
Undeterred, Eskar continues to hold my hand tightly.
“Dervla said you were healing well. That you needed time. But I bumped into Haelyn on the stairs and she said you were awake… So…”
“Like I said, I’m fine. Processing but fine.” I fix my eyes on the ceiling, watching it swim.
“The rebels should never have been able to get that close. I’m so sorry.”
“What do you think they wanted with me?”
“I don’t know and, unfortunately, I didn’t keep one alive for us to ask.”
“I heard.” I can’t meet his eyes.
“Sage, I’m sorry. I should have said I’m sorry the second I laid eyes on you outside the Concord room after the torture. I’ve had so many opportunities to explain and apologise but I kept pushing it down, pretending it didn’t matter, that we weren’t friends or that you already knew and didn’t care. I was a coward. I hope you can forgive me.”
I can’t bring myself to look at him. “You killed someone to save me.”
“Yes.” His voice catches, stretching the single word over two syllables.
“You torture people, regularly.”
“Yes. In exchange for my freedom one day. Under the pretenceof working towards a better kingdom.”
“You tortured me.” I hate how my voice fractures.
“Yes. I’m so sorry.” The hand that’s not holding mine claws at his dishevelled hair, tugging at the roots. I focus on the action, avoiding his caramel eyes.
