That was all mostly true, with only a few details omitted.
Rhea nodded. “Yes—yes—whatever you—”
The door opened before she could finish speaking and Luc entered, followed by Sebastian.
“Rhea, what are you doing?” Luc asked, his voice breathless.
Rhea looked startled by the intrusion. “Helena’s found a way to heal Titus.”
Luc looked at Helena, his eyes hard, bright, and feverish. “You can’t be serious.”
Helena started to answer, but it wasn’t a question and it wasn’t directed at her. He’d turned back to Rhea.
“You’re going to trust her after what she did to Soren?”
Helena flinched, her mind nearly pitching itself into that clawing wound inside her. She swallowed hard. “Luc, Soren died. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him, but this procedure for Titus could work. Think of how valuable it would be to get him back.”
Luc looked back at her again, a look of disgust in his eyes. “That’s what this is about to you? Value?” He looked at Titus, who’d grown restless from the tension in the room. “You look at what you did to him, and see a wasted military asset?”
“What? No. That’s not what I meant.”
He stared at her again, his eyes blistering as sunburn. “You lay as much as a finger on him, and I’ll—”
“She won’t,” Rhea said, breaking in. “Thank you, Helena—Healer Marino, I appreciate the offer, but I think we’ll pass.”
Luc gave a sharp nod and then turned on his heel, walking out without a backwards glance. Sebastian wavered, looking at Rhea and Titus, his expression conflicted before he turned, following Luc. When they were gone, Rhea’s face crumpled, and she gave an audible gasp before pressing her face in her hands.
Helena could find no words. She sat numb with shock as Rhea stood, not looking at Helena as she led Titus out.
Once she was alone, Helena pulled her gloves on and headed for the Alchemy Tower. When the lift opened, she was surprised when Sebastian stepped out alone, a weary expression on his face. He paused, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It was good of you to try.”
Helena couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him. She stared at his chest, at the suncrest on his armour.
“Why is he doing this?” she asked. “Everyone understands. Even if they think it was wrong, they understand. He won’t even try.”
Sebastian sighed. “You know why.”
She wasn’t sure that she did, but she nodded and stepped into the lift. There were three guards stationed outside Luc’s door, and they shook their heads when she approached.
She went to her own room and climbed out the window, walking carefully up and around the low slope. Luc’s hair gleamed golden in the setting sun. He was sitting hunched on his heels, twirling something in his fingers. He brought it up to his mouth, flames sparking in his fingertips as he inhaled.
His whole body seemed to come loose, and he sagged in on himself.
Watching, she was reminded of how soft his face used to be, the brightness of it. Now the war had chewed him down to the bone. He sat there, out of armour, so shrivelled he reminded her of an insect exoskeleton, like the shed dragonfly nymphs that clung to the water reeds. He was hollowed out.
Smoke curled from his lips as he slowly exhaled.
He was smoking opium.
She stared in horror at how casually he did so. As though it were an old habit.
He pulled the pipe from his mouth, catching sight of her. His expression hardened, growing more alert. “Go away.”
“No,” she said, and came closer.
He spun the pipe in his fingers again, his jaw rippling with anger. If he hit her again, she’d probably fall from the Tower and die.
She stood only a few steps away. “I couldn’t save him. Even if I’d killed myself trying, it wouldn’t have been enough. What is it you wish I’d done instead?”
Rather than answer, he shook like an autumn leaf on the verge of falling loose. He seemed to be trying to speak, but at the same time his hand was bringing the pipe back to his lips, fingers sparking a feeble flame. He inhaled so long that when he stopped, the pipe nearly tumbled from his fingers.
She feared he’d fall, and knelt to catch him, but he looked up, meeting her eyes, and he—he didn’t look angry anymore, he just looked exhausted.
“What happened to us, Hel?”
She stared at him, and her pathetic, starved heart leapt for a moment before she realised the obvious. This wasn’t Luc; this was the opium talking.
“A war.” She looked away from him to the ruined city before them. A view which had once been so beautiful.
“You used to believe in me,” he said, his voice faraway. “What did I do that made you stop?”
“I still believe in you, Luc,” she said. “But we have to win this war. We can’t make choices because we want a certain story to tell later. There’s too much at stake.”
“No,” he said. “This is how we win. This is how we’ve always won. My father, and grandfather, all the Principates going all the way back to Orion. They won by trusting that good would triumph over evil, and I will do the same.”
She looked at him in despair.
His index finger flicked against his thumb, ignition rings sparking, and again fire filled his palm, running along his fingers.
He cradled the flames like a kitten before his fingers closed around it, leaving only a tongue as he tucked the opium pipe between his lips and brought the flame close to the bowl again.
Her hand clenched into a fist, fighting a wince as she listened to him inhaling.
“What if it’s not that simple, though?” she said. “Everyone who wins says they were good, but they’re the ones who tell the story. They get to choose how we all remember it. What if it’s never that simple?”
He shook his head. “Orion became sun-blessed because he refused to break his faith.”
Helena exhaled, burying her face in her hands.
She heard his rings spark, and the pipe hissed as the opium vaporised.
“Luc—please, let me help you.” She tried to reach towards him.
He flinched away, rage suddenly flashing across his face. “Don’t—touch me.”
He was teetering dangerously close to that immense fall, as if the Abyss still called to him. She didn’t know how to draw him back anymore, what to say that he’d still hear.
“Do you remember what I promised you, Luc, that night you came out here?” she asked, her voice pleading.
He gave no response. His gaze had settled back into a dim stupor, the sunset limning his gaunt features as though gilding him.
“I promised I’d do anything for you.” She curled her fingers into a fist. “Maybe you didn’t realise how far I was willing to go.”
“Don’t say that,” he said, suddenly alert again. “Don’t make it all my fault. I thought you could heal him.”
She closed her eyes. “Sometimes people die. You can’t save everyone. Neither of us can. Please let me try to heal Titus.”
“I can’t.” He stood, stumbled down onto the balcony of his room, and disappeared.
IT HAD BEEN OVER TWO weeks with no word when Helena’s ring finally burned again.
She ran out of Headquarters without a backwards glance.
When she reached the rooftop and saw Kaine already there, standing beside Amaris, her knees nearly gave out. He was in uniform, clean and polished, wearing a row of medals as if he’d just come from a ceremony.
“You’re back.” It was all she could manage to say, already reaching out for him when he was still steps away.
He pulled her into his arms. “Have you been all right?”