Page 168 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
“Yes.”
“And what if you weren’t the main target, hmm? What if they wanted to kill someone else all along? Are you going to rust away from the guilt just because?”
I shook my head.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, voice unbending.
I nodded, the same way he did. And he understood and didn’t press for more. Guilt was a terrible thing and we both shared it.
“You know,” he began, palm gliding up my cheek. His thumb wiped the tears away, one by one. “We believe the souls of our ancestors hear our call, no matter where they are.”
I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve, trying to ignore the stains I left on his uniform. He took my hand in his and guided me toward the table.
I watched in amazement as he took out a bottle from the same satchel–but unlike the others in this crypt, his looked like a remnant from a shipwreck, green, with its bottom half calcified, as if the underwater algae hadn’t wanted to let go of it. He also dug out two glasses.
The cork hissed as it opened, filling the entire space with that spicy alcohol. Ryker tilted the bottle toward the moat in the center of the table, the table greedily gulping the amber liquid. Then he filled both glasses, handing me one and placing the other on his mother’s coffin.
The entire space filled with the air of ritual. Once again, I felt like an intruder.
“What about you?” I asked.
He swirled the liquid in the bottle with a smile. “I’ll make do.”
I watched with fascination as he took one of the candles and lit the moat. The circle came to life with flames instantly, blazing toward the ceiling.
“For those who gave their lives so we could live.” He raised his bottle at his mother’s grave, completely ignoring his father’s; I followed his movements with my own glass.
The past needed to be remembered.
Always.
Then he turned, looking at me like I was his future. “And for those who carry on their memory, no matter how painful.”
The flames danced across the glass as we clinked, and both took one large gulp, as if that would somehow burn the ache still beating through us. This alcohol definitely tried to burn something.
It blazed through the tears still stuck down my throat, the spices lodging in my nose.
I let out a disgruntled cough. Meanwhile, Ryker licked his lips, like he’d tasted nectar, not liquid fire.
“They raise you strong here in Solkar’s Reach,” I managed between coughs, my voice and insides raw.
“Rumor has it they do the same in Aquila.” He took another long gulp, as if teasing me.
Here he was, trying to yank me out of my sadness once more.
I’d resented him the first time, when I’d been too caught up in my own misery to face reality.
Now I saw his insistence for what it was–care.
Messy, rough-around-the-edges care.
For me.
Maybe as his future wife, who needed to rule just as firmly as he did.
Perhaps because he saw a girl break in front of his eyes and wanted to patch her up.
Or maybe he just liked taking care of us strays, who had nowhere else to turn to.
