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.
55
“Is there a word,” Thessa asked, “for when circumstance keeps you from getting some?”
Though Thessa had rushed back to the Forge and hardly slept, lying awake next to the phoenix channel until the wee hours of the morning, there had been no lightning strike. Thunder seemed to roll past them all night, small flashes of lightning high up in the sky. Not a one had decided to jump down to earth for her test. The dawn came on with a warm updraft blowing off the ocean, taking the chill out of the air, and the wind was picking up once more.
Pari stood next to her, looking out the little window in the stone lighthouse that faced out across the water. “I spent a lot of time with river pigs when I was a teen – you know those insane log drivers who move timber down the river? They used to call it a logjam when something interrupted their, uh, dalliances.”
“Logjam,” Thessa scoffed. “I don’t have a log, but I like it. Look at that storm out there. It’s almost black. We’re going to get some real proper rain soon. Let’s hope it comes with lightning.” She tapped her fingers nervously against the stone wall. Did she really regret not sleeping with Demir, even after finding out about Holikan? The very thought seemed twisted, and yet … the anger was gone, her fury snuffed out. He was another victim, tortured by culpability that it didn’t sound like he even deserved. Their shared experiences had absolutely nothing to do with Holikan.
She’d spent the whole night thinking about him; wondering what would happen after the war and the phoenix channel test. The fact that she still felt a spark with him even while telling him they couldn’t be more than business partners made things complicated. She needed to step back. To think. They’d known each other for less than two weeks. Once the battle was done – once the test was conducted – she had to promise herself not to rush into anything she would regret later.
She found Pari watching her with a leering smile. “What?”
“Demir Grappo, eh?”
“Don’t,” Thessa warned her assistant.
Pari threw up her hands. “Fine, fine. What’s next, Jailbird?”