Rhys would wager that he and Iree thought that everything started to fall apart at very different points. Iree, of course, would have said that Dale’s death was the turning point. She had needed Rhys more than ever after that. He had offered for her to keep the gardenia pin Dale had stuck to his glove after receiving it as a good luck charm, but she’d told Rhys to keep it since she had so many more memories of Dale. There was the separation Rhys had enforced in his time of lonely sadness and then the fact that Dale had chosen Iree’s romantic partnership over his. To that end, the pin was a consolation prize of sorts that Rhys didn’t reject. Yes, Iree would probably say that losing the best and brightest of the trio was what ruined everything.

No. For Rhys, it hadn’t been fine for a long time before then.

The day started out as routine, a simple raid on a Ghurian village in retaliation for an assault of the same kind instigated not long before. This pattern of trading blows had become typical, the Sacerian council’s favorite justification to strike being that they had been struck first. Rhys and Dale were going through a final sweep, the enemy having been cleanly wiped out by a small squad of Sacerian invaders.

They broke into a locked home; Rhys fantasized sometimes about what might have happened if they had picked any other house. After a shared glance and fingers held to lips to signal for quiet, they split up to creep through different rooms, peeking past corners. If Dale had been the one to find them, perhaps things would have been different, but it was Rhys who encountered a man and a woman huddled in a bedroom corner, a baby cradled in the man’s arms. The woman immediately lunged, but a flying streak of water severed her head from her neck before she was even fully to her feet. The man screamed, short-lived grief splitting the room. His body quivered with rage and terror as he watched Rhys approach. The man shifted, and, anticipating an attack, Rhys severed the Ghurian’s arm at the elbow, and both of his legs were removed for good measure. Though the man writhed and screeched in pain, he was still careful not to drop the infant or hold it too tightly. He lowered himself onto his back as he bled out, securing the child on top of his chest.

“Please…” he begged in his final breath. “My child… Don’t…”

From the very start, Rhys and all children like him had been taught that anyone could and would be an enemy. Every Ghurian was a foe to be put to rest. Every child was a future soldier, every elder (if they were lucky enough to make it that far) a former aggressor.

Dale approached from behind him. “All the other rooms are secure. I heard the noise over here, but it sounded like you had it handled.” He paused, noticing the baby. “Oh. Damn.” He crossed his arms and furrowed his brows. “We could—” He cut off with a gasp, hand coming to his mouth as Rhys lifted a hand to gather water that created a line across the child’s throat, shallow but more than enough for the kill. Blood spread across a blanket patterned with clouds. “Why the fuck did you do that?” Dale whispered, aghast.

Rhys, confused, turned to him with an explanation on his lips. Wasn’t it simple? He’d disposed of a future enemy. This was what he’d been taught to do. Those words died when he took in Dale’s expression.

Utter revulsion and fear. Eyes that lingered on something twisted and vulgar. It was a look Rhys would never forget.

“I was able to move on from that day as usual,” he said in the deplorable present, trying to speak normally through the sensation of his chest ripping apart and caving in upon itself due to his emotions. “Dale greeted me like he always did the day after that, so I thought it was fine. We never talked about what happened, but I saw him looking at me sometimes in that way, wondering what I was.” Rhys turned, afraid, and caught Dorothea’s stricken gaze. She didn’t look away. She didn’t look like she hated him. It made him want to cry.

“We’ve all killed children,” he choked. “But since that day, deep down, I see a person on the field of battle and know they’re someone’s child, someone’s loved one. I… We’ve always killed one another’s children and moved on. I moved on, or I thought I did.”

But then she came here and reminded him. He saw in Dorothea the cost of human life, the view of someone who hadn’t been breathing conflict since childhood. The questions she was able to ask, the humanity she was able to see. There was something cherishable in that, something too precious to lose. Rhys, meanwhile, had murdered an infant and not felt a thing until he’d received repercussions from an outside source. Once he had realized how inhumane and unforgivable that was, he’d shattered.

He’d done a thing like that and felt nothing. That wasn’t supposed to be possible. The realization of what he’d become opened him up to the guilt of the things he had done, and that threatened to destroy him. Part of him wanted it to while the other part knew he didn’t deserve to run away and pretend anymore, but he didn’t know how to face this.

“So, in the end, I…” Rhys whispered, faltering. It felt as if he’d been speaking for hours, and they were now the only ones left in the chapel. Some of the candles had gone out, cloaking them in a powerful, heavy darkness. His throat was sore from talking on and on, backtracking and adding tangents, trying to explain parts of himself he feared and didn’t understand. It was surprising she hadn’t run away from him by now.

It took her a long time to say anything. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to rest,” he answered, finding these to be the closest words for his desires at the moment. “I just want to rest, and I can’t.”

Though he thought that he’d expended all his energy for emotion, a craving, turbulent feeling reared up in him when Dorothea reached up to touch his cheek but stopped short. “May I?” she asked, and he barely managed to nod. Energy sparked in his veins as she used her magic, and the dull sting of frostbite from the battle on the border, as well as the smarting of Iree’s slaps, faded.

“But why…?” How much life had that taken from her? He wasn’t worth it.

She smiled gently. “I understand now why you didn’t want me to touch you. You suspected my magic had a cost before I told everyone, right?”

“I guessed from context. The way Shark talked to you, and thinking about why you wouldn’t have gotten involved in the war before now, and how the Atlin line had dwindled in the first place… It was the most natural conclusion.”

“Please know that I’d rather heal you than have you continue hurting.” Her hand lingered, soft and warm. “You’re worth it. All of you.”

He’d be damned if he cried now, but she was making it hard. “Thank you.”

“Mmhm.” Dorothea’s utterance was weak and high-pitched, so Rhys was slightly less surprised to find her crying in his stead, face scrunching into a rumpled, preciously ugly mess.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, unsure of what to do. Had he scared her, was that why?

“I’m a sympathetic crier!” she hiccuped. “If I see someone else crying, I, urgh, I can’t, can’t… I cry at sad books, I cry when I see a kid fall on the street and start crying… I cry a lot, Rhys. I’m no good.”

Now he’d gone and done it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you or bring you into my problems.” He’d just felt so safe with her, safer than he had in a long time, that he’d ended up telling her everything.

“I know you don’t need my pity… But I’m sorry. For, for everything you’ve been through! Urgh…” Her shoulders jerked up and down, and her hands closed around the hem of her shorts, bunching it up even further to show a slice of her thighs above tall black socks. She hadn’t even been back to the Tamlin residence yet, and they were still bloodsoaked. It hit him then, how alone and scared she must have felt, having to stay with strangers in a foreign land after her home had been taken from her.

“It’s okay,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders awkwardly. “We’re gonna be okay.” He stayed still until, at last, she stopped.

“I don’t understand why I’m the one bawling like this in the first place,” Dorothea mumbled then, wiping her face and looking endlessly embarrassed. “This whole time, I’ve felt like you’re the one who really wanted to cry.”

“I almost did.” His capacity for that much had shocked him. “But in that case, thank you for crying on my behalf.” It felt like a gift somehow, to be worthy of her emotions.

“What, like your surrogate crier?” Dorothea let out a thick laugh.

He found himself smiling despite everything. “Not quite what I meant, but sure.”

“Well…” She swiped at her face one last time with the heels of her hands. “Thank you for sharing with me. Really. I know that, for you, it must have been…” She smiled and shook her head. “That’s not something I really need to say. Thank you, is the main thing. I’m honored.”

No, she didn’t need to say anything. He knew already, how she appreciated the gravity of his tale and his uncertainty, how she would hold his secrets close. That was just the kind of person she was. Part of why he’d been so compelled to tell her in the first place was because he knew she would listen with open, genuine consideration. No one in his world would understand. As an outsider, she was in the perfect position. That said, he still couldn’t comprehend why she hadn’t run away from him yet.

“Aren’t you scared?” he asked, tentative. “I did terrible things.”

She shook her head. “I won’t lie. It’s horrifying. But if there’s anything I’ve learned since coming here, it’s that I can’t judge your lives based on what I think is normal or right from my experience. I’m not scared of you, but the things all of you have done… I won’t say they don’t bother me. I’m not innocent either, though…” She looked at him, helplessly apologetic. “Sorry. I don’t really know what to say.”

“No, that’s plenty.” He bumped his arm against hers, not sure how to convey how thankful he was for her in that moment. To move on, he said, “However, if you remember the terms of our agreement, you promised to share a little something with me in return.”

She smiled faintly. “I did, didn’t I… Well, a short one. We’re at the point of having talked enough darkness for one night.”

Rhys nodded. There was a boiling anticipation in his blood for her words.

Dorothea’s cheeks were red, and she avoided his gaze now of all times. “The tower, when I…freaked out, basically. Um, I… I told you I fell from a tree once, right?” Her face clouded with shame after he nodded. “That time, my mother had to use her magic to heal me. I took something away from her that she couldn’t get back. I’ve been afraid of heights ever since then, and I… I haven’t been able to forgive myself. For doing that to her.”

“Oh…” So that was why she’d been so scared.

“But maybe she felt back then like I feel now. That it’s okay in the end. That it’s worth it.” She met his eyes for a few heartbeats before looking down at her lap. “Not that that makes it all good, or that I can forgive her for…” She sat up straight, shaking her head. “Ahem. We should get back, right? Sharkie will be worried. Your parents too.”

Rhys was disappointed that their time was ending. There was no privacy anywhere else they went. Besides, he only had more questions about her now. The vow? And this mysterious mix of feelings towards her mother… What did it say that he felt like something important was missing for him not to know, to be able to reach out to those hidden things? “Right.”

The fact that they were going to the same destination was somehow embarrassing, made his chest feel warm and constricted. They walked in silence, the streetlamps casting them in ghostly light. Based on how few people there were on the streets, Rhys knew he’d kept her out far too long.

The house was silent, and they crept through it after edging through the front door. Both of their rooms were upstairs, Shark’s too, while Rhys’ parents shared the expansive basement as their love nest.

“Sounds like Shark’s asleep… I mean, based on the fact that they’re not out here teasing us and asking questions right now,” Dorothea whispered, laughing. “Trust me, we’ll endure it tomorrow anyways…”

They were at her door now, her back to it and him in front of her. “Well…”

She leaned against it, hands clenched in front of her. “Do you…” Her voice got even smaller. “Want first shower?”

Until this moment, the full meaning of a beautiful woman staying in his house right across the hall hadn’t registered. He was mortified with himself now that it had.

“No, you can…” His voice came out strangled with embarrassment. “Can have it. It’s been a long day. You should relax first…” Stop acting like a teenager, for the love of the Gods.

“Hey, Rhys?”

She was so quiet that he had to lean closer to hear her. “Yes?”

“There’s always a place for you in Sirpo. You know, once there is a Sirpo again. If you need somewhere to go, plans for when it’s rebuilt could always change.”

He shook his head, though he was moved by the offer. It was huge for her to say that. “Thanks, Dorothea, but that’s not necessary.” His parents would never follow him, and he couldn’t leave them behind. But what, so he’d stay here, causing nothing but trouble for everyone else? He was worthless, just like Ariana had said.

Dorothea didn’t look surprised. “I hope you can find something. A path that leaves your heart intact.”

To do something like that… Well, if he thought about it, the best option that came to mind was… The sudden idea that came inspired a small, flickering hope in him. It would take a favor he didn’t deserve, but it was worth a shot. “I’ll see about it.”

Dorothea offered an encouraging smile. “Good luck.” A small pause. “Well, I should…”

How would they face one another tomorrow, he wondered. How much would change? To just let her turn away like this without conveying his gratitude properly… But how to get the depth of his feelings across? “Dorothea, I’m sorry, but one last thing.”

Her breath caught as he closed the sparse distance between them, putting a hand on the door next to her hip for balance. She held still as he pushed his lips to her cheek, caught her breath as flesh gave way to gentle pressure. “Wha…?” She put her hand to her cheek when he withdrew.

“I… Thank you for tonight.” Rhys looked away, ignoring a disturbance in his chest at the sight of her face darkening red once more. “I can’t say that enough, so…” He was acting like a child when the truth was that he was a sexually experienced man who would normally never get flustered by anything so minute.

“I understand.” Her breaths were coming shorter, quicker now. “It means a lot to me, too.” She put a hand over her chest, pressing down.

He wanted to know how fast her heart was beating. “I’ll let you go for real now. Goodnight, and get some good rest.”

“You too.” She offered one last smile from the doorway before vanishing into shadow.

Rhys made a quick retreat to his room before he could do anything else rash. After collapsing on his bed, he let out a sigh and pinched his brow, tired in advance of the coming days. Few things were certain at this point, but one truth had become increasingly clear: remaining as he was wasn’t an option. He had to defy his growing apathy and despair, somehow.

The shower was running, and the sound of rushing water started to lull him to sleep. How was it that a person could seem to change your entire life with a small action, and so soon into entering it, he thought dimly. And, perhaps more important than that…

How could he tell if the overwhelming conviction that he’d just fallen in love with her was real, or even something he deserved to believe in?