“Have you brought us anything?” Akamar asked Nira, skidding to a halt with Nilson at his side.
“Perhaps I have,” Nira teased, “but you’ll never know until I get a kiss hello.” She leaned sideways in her seat so both the boys could plant a peck on her cheek. “And for Kiena, too.”
I’d been raising my spoon to my lips for another slurp of stew, but paused to lean over so they could give me kisses as well. Once they’d both done as she asked, Nira reached into a pouch attached to her belt, and pulled out something wrapped in linen. She handed it over to the boys, who dashed around to the other side of the table and climbed onto the bench, opening the gift with wide eyes. It was a sweet roll, one I knew Nira had taken from the supply cart because this wasn’t the first time she’d done it.
“Thieves,” I accused, rolling my eyes. “The whole lot of you.”
“Share,” Nira told our brothers, reaching across the table to rip the roll in half and then looking at me. “You’re a thief too, First Ward,” she quipped. “Or have you forgotten we’re rebels?”
“I’ve not forgotten,” I said, taking another slurp of stew.
As all of us ate, I could feel Nilson’s eyes falling on me every couple of seconds. The last six months had been good for him, and his presence had been a comfort to Akamar, but I could tell he regretted my behavior. I wasn’t playful with him, didn’t joke or tickle or laugh. After a few bites of his half of the sweet roll, he held it in his hand, skipped back around the table, and climbed up to sit beside me.
“Would you like a bite?” he asked me, holding out what was left of the roll and blinking his big hazel eyes.
He was doing it to try and cheer me up, and I couldn’t possibly refuse him, even if we both knew that I didn’t like sweets. I took a bite, offering a small smile and then kissing the side of his head. “Thank you.”
Nira joked with and teased the boys until we were finished eating, and while they went off to play and Nira went to wash up, I went to look for Sevedi. She could usually be found in the infirmary, but we’d arrived late and she wasn’t there. Reluctant to seek her out in her personal chamber, I figured my arm would be fine until morning, and sought out Kingston instead. I found him in the war room, down the same hall as the training grounds. He was discussing over a large map with Oren, but when I came in, Oren excused himself and closed the door behind him.
It was only Kingston and me, and he knew why I’d come to find him, but instead of saying anything right away, we both just stood there. Eventually he asked, “How was the raid?”
“A success,” I answered, and though I was afraid to hear the answer, I prompted, “any word?”
He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his eyes dropped to the table. “I’m sorry,” he said. “She wasn’t there.”
Despite the overwhelming pang in my chest, I did my best to keep it off my face. “Keep searching.”
Kingston strode around the table, coming over to set a hand on my shoulder. “There are no more prisons to search.”
“Keep searching,” I repeated, taking a step back out of reach. “Search Hazlitt’s ranks. Search the castles of lords who support him. Search every damn town if we have to. She’s out there.”
“Kiena,” he murmured, his voice full of sadness and condolence. I immediately turned to make an escape, because I didn’t want to hear it, but when I reached for the door handle, Kingston forced his palm against the wood to stop me. “You cannot keep this up.” He leaned a little to try and get my attention, but tears were flooding my eyes, and I refused to take them off the handle in my grip. “I know it hurts,” he said, putting his other hand on my back, “but it will never stop hurting if you don’t allow yourself to let go.”
I pulled the door hard, and though he was strong enough to have kept it closed, he allowed me to open it and rush out. Blinking away the tears, I hurried back toward the main entrance of the cave and down another hall toward my personal room. I closed the door behind me when I got there, falling back against it and sliding to the floor as all the emotion I’d tried to contain struck me in the chest. Ava was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t in any prison in either kingdom, and if she’d been moved somewhere else, wouldn’t Kingston’s spies have heard of it? Wouldn’t there be something, even the smallest rumor, about where she’d been taken? There was nothing. No word, or rumor. But… wouldn’t we know if she’d been killed? Wouldn’t there be a rumor of that too? Wouldn’t the spies know who to ask? Wouldn’t people know about it?
The tears flowed over. I didn’t know what to believe. Everyone wanted me to accept that Ava was dead so I would start moving on, but nobody knew for sure. Nobody knew anything even though they pressured me relentlessly, and I was stuck in the middle. Stuck because, on the one hand, I wished Ava was still alive, and if she was then I couldn’t give up searching for her, couldn’t condemn her to a life of captivity simply because I’d stopped looking. Stuck because, on the other hand, as much as I’d learned to accept how badly my own guilt tortured me, it hurt everyone I loved too. It hurt Mother and Kingston with their worry, it hurt Nilson because of how I neglected him, and it hurt Nira. She cared for me, she’d become my closest friend, and there was nothing she could do to help.
I sniffled, wiped my cheeks, and stood, forcing back everything I was feeling. I’d stay stuck because it was my only option. Because I couldn’t betray Ava again by giving up and moving on, and I couldn’t abandon everyone who loved me by devoting everything I had to finding her. I’d stay stuck, and tortured, and empty, until something swayed me.
Able to push the pain back to the very depths of me—where I could control it—I strode to a cabinet on the far side of my room, where I kept a small supply of medicines. I pulled out linen and my decanter of antiseptic, set them on the table right beside the cabinet, and then rolled up the sleeve of my tunic to clean the wound. After soaking the linen in antiseptic, I scrubbed at the injury, making sure it was clean so I could wrap it and forget about it until tomorrow. Truly, I probably didn’t need to do any of this, because come morning Sevedi would heal it regardless of how little care I took tonight. But it gave me something to do, something mindless to focus on so I didn’t have to think about anything else.
Once the wound was clean, I grabbed a fresh roll of linen to wrap it in, because it was bleeding again and I didn’t want my clothes to get any bloodier than they already were. But the wound was in a hard spot. I tried to hold the end of the linen in place against my chest, but it kept slipping off before I could wrap the rest. I couldn’t get the linen tight enough no matter how many times I tried, and blood was dripping down my arm and staining random spots of the wrapping, and I got frustrated. And I nearly had it when there was a knock on the door, unexpected enough that I flinched and lost the grip on the linen.
“What?” I snarled, because I was just… angry. So angry that, while whoever it was opened the door and came in, I threw the linen roll clear across the room and into the small fire.
As I set my palms flat on the table in frustration, I glanced briefly toward the door to see who had entered. Rhien.
She closed it behind her, brown eyes watching me cautiously as she said, “Nira said you were looking for me.”
“She lied,” I growled. One of Rhien’s eyebrows rose with surprise, and she turned without saying anything and reached for the door handle to leave. In how little I knew of her, I knew she wasn’t the type of person to stand being spoken to like that. She’d chastised Vigilant troops for lack of respect countless times in the dining hall. “I’m sorry,” I said before she could pull the door open. I sighed, turning around to lean back against the table and rubbing my hands over my face, doing my best to calm down. “I’m sorry.”