In the Shadow of Lightning

54

Demir stared at the wall of his tent for some time. He was, he eventually realized, in shock. Over the years he’d had plenty of women mad at him. Some fairly, some not. Never had one genuinely believed that he was responsible for the massacre of her family. How did he come back from that? Was it even possible to reconcile?

“Well,” he said aloud to the empty tent, “she hates me forever now.”

It was a painful realization, made no easier by the fact that he’d been trying to prepare for this moment since the word “Holikan” left her lips a week ago. He wasn’t prepared for it, and his last-ditch effort to put the conversation off had probably just made her angrier.

Something made an audible crack nearby, and it took a moment for Demir to realize it was his glassdancer egg, discarded with his uniform jacket on one of the crates. He was clutching at his sorcery without even realizing it, like raising a fist subconsciously in anticipation of a fight. He forced himself to let go of the pieces with his sorcery. Such a lack of control was dangerous for a glassdancer.

He knelt down among all his reports and plans, trying to remember where he was when Thessa had entered. Did it matter? He felt a whirlpool of despair in the back of his mind, trying to suck him down into the dreaded blackness that had taken him after Holikan. He fought it, weakly, wondering if there was a point to his flailing. Even if Kerite fell for his trap, he wasn’t going to win this battle. She would turn it on him, slaughter his people, and if he survived he’d return to Ossa in shame. Thessa hated him, and with her hate the phoenix channel project would no doubt die.

He went to his officer’s trunk and began rooting around inside for civilian’s clothes. He could still run. Slip away. Disappear. The Grappo name would be forever destroyed but at least he’d be free of all his responsibilities. He clutched at a tunic, staring at it, wondering why it seemed familiar, when he realized it was the last thing he wore before returning from the provinces. One of his porters had packed it for him unknowingly. Demir the friendly grifter. A wanderer. A nobody. This tunic was freedom.

And cowardice.

It took him some time to realize he was weeping, and he used the tunic to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Such weakness. Such cowardice. Perhaps he should be glad his mother was dead, so she couldn’t see what he’d become. She’d practically handed him a way to save the world and he couldn’t even do that right.

“Demir?”

Demir leapt to his feet and whirled, throwing the tunic back into his trunk like he’d been caught with a stolen bauble. Thessa stood half inside the tent, the flap raised above her head. She seemed more somber, her jaw tight.

“Can I come in?”

He wanted to tell her to piss off; that her dead family was not his concern. He had a war to win, after all. He had responsibilities greater than her feelings. He bit down hard on his tongue until the urge passed. He had, after all, just seriously considered running away. “Please,” he said. Once the tent flap had closed behind her, he continued, “Thessa, I’m sorry, I should have told you the moment you mentioned–”

“No,” she said firmly, cutting him off. She squared her shoulders and stood up straight, reminding Demir that she was just a bit taller than him. Was she trying to be intimidating? She went on, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said you butchered my family. I should have let you explain yourself.”

Demir felt his mouth hanging open, at a loss for words. “Your anger was justified,” he managed.

“Justified but misdirected. I didn’t think I could trust anything you said at the moment, so I asked Idrian Sepulki. He told me what happened at Holikan. The whole story. I believe him. I want you to know that.”

Demir felt something change. It was like a knot he didn’t know was there, centered at the base of his neck, suddenly disappeared. A rush of relief flowed through him, his body loosening, his legs turning to jelly for half an instant. “I’m glad,” he said.

“Do you know who betrayed you? Who caused the sack?”

“Capric Vorcien,” Demir answered.

“What will you do with him?”

“I already tried to duel him. The Cinders intervened, but he won’t go unpunished for what he did. I swear it.” How Demir would punish him, when he’d promised Father Vorcien to drop his blood feud, he still wasn’t sure.

Thessa took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then took another. Her fingers trembled, and on an impulse Demir reached out and took them in his. They were freezing. She did not pull away from him. She looked down at their intertwined fingers, then up at him. “I do not hate you, Demir. I do not blame you for the deaths at Holikan.” She seemed to be forcing the words out, each one a painful grating. Demir would, he decided, take it. “I’ll reserve my hate for Capric Vorcien.”

“And me?” Demir asked. It was a selfish question, but one that he needed the answer to or he wouldn’t sleep. “I understand if you’d like to cancel the project. I’ll tear up our contract. The phoenix channel is yours. Take it, go back to the hotel and get Ekhi. I’ll make sure Breenen gives you some money to get started wherever you go next.” He meant every word, too. If this was the end of their partnership, he wanted it to be without guile or reservation. There was already too much of both in his life.

“Shut up, Demir,” Thessa said, and wrapped her arms around him. The embrace was the most comforting feeling Demir had had in years. It was warm and pleasant, and Thessa put her head on his shoulder, burying her cold nose into the crook of his neck, causing goose bumps to form all down his arms. When they finally separated, her eyes were red but clear. He could still see the anger written across her face, but it didn’t feel directed at him.

“I meant what I said,” he told her.

“I’m not going to break the contract.” Thessa drew herself up. “I’m a Grappo partner, and I’m proud to be one. As for the rest…” She looked away uncertainly. “It’s going to take time for me to sort out. I’m not ready to be more than your business partner.”

The fact that she would even remain that genuinely surprised him. Demir let out a relieved laugh. “Completely understandable.”

Despite her words, she didn’t pull away from him. They stood, inches apart, holding each other’s arms, neither of them seemingly willing to let go. Was he supposed to kiss her, despite what she’d just said? No, he couldn’t kiss her. She’d made herself very clear. She might have forgiven him for his involvement, but it was a complicated matter. Her partnership – her friendship – was a damned gift.

His eyes lingered on hers, the silence between them broken only by the distant roll of thunder. Thessa cocked her head, looking over her shoulder. “There’s a new storm brewing at the Forge. I should get back as quickly as I can.”

“I’ll have Fenny escort you,” Demir told her, relieved at the distraction to remove temptation.

Within minutes she was gone. Demir felt lighter and heavier all at the same time. Some – not all, but some – of the guilt he’d been carrying around with him these nine years seemed to have vanished. In its place was something else. Longing? Did he have genuine feelings for this woman he barely knew? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t act on them.

He found himself taking deep, measured breaths. “Damn it,” he whispered, “I’m getting too involved.” He had to tell her about Kizzie and the Vorcien deal. Not tonight. No more drama. But at the next opportunity.