“I don’t think you’ll understand if you don’t have the image. It’s like…” Even now, thinking about that day made Dorothea sick to her stomach. “It’s like when you put an ice cube in water. It fractures, but it’s still whole at the same time. With my mother it was like… The cracks inside her just kept spreading until…” Her breath hitched. “Until I couldn’t recognize her anymore.”

But she hadn’t recognized her for a long time before that. That woman withering away in her bed as magic-induced sickness wove through her, clawing to her very bones, wasn’t her mother.

“It was a slow deterioration. She kept using her magic right until the end for Sirpo’s people, taking breaks to stretch herself as long as possible… But she did that for me, too. If I hadn’t fallen from that tree, if I hadn’t… I… I hastened her death.

“I understand now that she loved me and wouldn’t have regretted anything. Because I… When I think of you and Sharkie, and then Cerid and Ariana, if any of you are hurt, then I want to help. More than anything, I want to. But back then… I was so angry and filled with hatred after my mother died. I promised I wouldn’t do to anyone else what she did to me. I…” She retrained her tears, just barely. “Right up to the moment she died, I hated her as much as I loved her. Because I… I just wasn’t enough to make her stay.”

And that was the crux of it. Dorothea knew, she remembered from the feeling of her mother’s thin arms around her, that she had been loved. Ophelia had been happy to share her life with her daughter. She had just been happy to give up her life for others too, even if it meant orphaning her child. That grief and rage, so long withheld, had now found relief. Dorothea, like her mother, had found something, and several someones, worth giving up her life for.

“I had promised myself,” she said to bring the tale full circle, “that I wouldn’t burden anyone else with that resentment and hatred. If I never made anyone love me, I wouldn’t make them feel like I did back then. I tried hard to keep everyone out, but I couldn’t help myself. I keep wanting more people. I want more friends, I want to fall in love. I want to have the strength to chase everything I might have ever dreamed of. I want to tie my life to other people’s.

“I thought my friendship and love were tainted because I’d die before them and leave them with that grief, alone… But no matter how much we think we burden others, these connections we’ve made are important and worthwhile. I’m so happy I got to meet you, Rhys. I’m so glad I got to become your friend. I wouldn’t change that at all.” It was okay to keep reaching out no matter the weight lives brought when they touched each other. It was worth bearing; she was worth bearing, and so was Rhys. “So please, never think you deserve to be alone.”

He bowed his head, trying to hide from her view. “Can I…really believe you?”

“I can’t make that choice for you, but I’ll say over and over, as many times as you need to, that you’re worth everything.”

His eyes were bright with tears that he quickly blinked away. “Okay… I hear you.” He sniffed and dragged his arm across his eyes before standing and pulling her to her feet, circling the table for them to meet in the middle. “Stay still for a second?” She nodded, and he dug in his pocket, withdrawing something small.

Dorothea’s breath caught as his hands came up to her neck. There came to be a newfound weight as he affixed something to her clothes, and it was obvious what it was. Sharee’s memento, the faded lily, now on her. “Oh Rhys, I can’t accept this…”

“I want you to take it.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Please.”

Her fingers drifted to its warmth. “Okay. But if you change your mind, tell me and I’ll give it back. I’ll keep it safe in the meantime.”

He nodded, smiling for a second before that same persistent tiredness seemed to rush through his body and drag him down again.

What could she do to help keep that smile there? “Hey, Rhys? I… I’m done feeling sorry for myself. ” Every moment from now on was one she needed to make the most of to move forward, for the sake of these people she had met and come to value so much. “So I’m going to find a way, okay? A world where you don’t have to fight and feel sad anymore, where Sharkie and Cerid can be happy together, where… Maybe where everyone can understand each other.”

“Dorothea, that’s…” The downtrodden look on his face made it clear he didn’t believe in it. The larger part of her still didn’t either. She was scared, but giving in to that wouldn’t get them anywhere.

That was right. Her self-pity, her fear… Gren Fall had seen instantly that she lived her life ruled by these things and warned her against them. His words, his actions… He was fighting hard, looking for answers even though the roads both behind and ahead of them were so difficult. That strength had reached her, was now inspiring her.

Stolen novel; please report.

A rush of feeling overtook her, overly warm and arresting. Just barely, and not understanding why, she stopped herself from uttering his name.

She looked Rhys in the eyes. “Try with me. Or even just watch me as I try. Can you do that?” He couldn’t bear it much longer. That much was clear to her. “I’m going to learn what I can and figure a plan out. Will you please come with me? You don’t need to do anything else. I’ll find a way where you don’t have to hurt anyone anymore.”

He held onto her arms as if he couldn’t stand by himself anymore. “Okay.”

“Thank you. That’s for tomorrow, though,” she said gently. “Tonight, just tell me what you need.” She studied his face to try to discern what that might be.

He shook his head and stepped back. “You should leave.” A wan smile curved on his mouth. “Still time to salvage the evening.”

“I want to stay.” And that’s what he wanted from her too, she realized. “We still have a whole cake,” she added, trying to lighten the mood. The night had been a whirlwind of emotions, not that that wasn’t her new normal. Things were bound to keep changing from now on too.

“Yeah.” He looked relieved and embarrassed for being so. “I…want to rest,” he said haltingly.

It wasn’t the first time he’d said that, but now she wondered how deep that desire went. “Then let’s get you to bed.” For this moment it was in her power to watch over him and be the best friend she could. That would have to be enough. She gestured for him to lead them down the hall.

His bedroom was a little messy. There was a desk scattered with books, dozens of pages with their corners folded to mark. A dresser and closet, a small bookshelf, a table beside the bed, most surfaces scattered over with trinkets or loose papers and notes. Dorothea approached the bookshelf to learn his tastes and found a small stuffed toy sitting in one corner.

Rhys turned on the lamp on the bedside table. “Sharee gave that to me. I know it’s childish, but…” He trailed off as Dorothea laughed.

“It’s not childish. I have a teddy bear this big back home. Mr. Wink.” She stretched out her arms to show the toy’s ridiculous size.

“Mr. Wink,” Rhys echoed with a light laugh. “Cute.” He sat on the bed and let out a heavy breath, reaching up to untie his hair. Dorothea watched as he ran his hands through it, spreading it over his shoulders.

“How long have you been growing it out?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh.” He lifted a chunk to study it. “I don’t know. It’s not something I decided on purpose. Just kind of happened, I guess.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you,” Dorothea realized aloud as she sat at the desk.

“Yeah. We haven’t known each other that long.” He turned towards her and sat cross-legged.

True. How long had she been in Sacer now? Not even two weeks, yet it felt as if the past eighteen years had been completely wasted in the meantime. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“No,” he laughed softly. “It really doesn’t.” He rubbed at his eyes, letting out a small yawn. “If there’s anything you want to know, just ask. You already know the worst parts, so there’s not much left for me to hide.”

“Same here.” Their relationship probably wasn’t typical, or maybe it was flat-out abnormal, but they regarded each other with deep consideration and kindness. Nothing wrong with that, timing and intensity aside. “Hey, I’ll talk to you until you fall asleep. But don’t worry, I’ll stay here after.”

He nodded, curling up under his blankets. “Say more about yourself? The small things.”

Dorothea marvelled at how small and delicate he looked. “It won’t be very interesting.”

“Do it anyways.” His breathing was already starting to slow, so she spoke quietly and paid attention to the steady rise of his chest. He made a few responses to what she said, but soon he stopped talking altogether, and she was certain he was asleep.

“Good night, Rhys,” she whispered.

*

Rhys blinked rapidly as he woke up in the middle of the night. He sat up and saw Dorothea, and his heart calmed. She was snoring softly, hair splashed by shafts of moonlight that poured in between slats on the blinds.

Dorothea. She was so strong, so determined. All the fear she’d been showing since the start, she was trying to rise above it in her own clumsy way. He wanted to cling to her and steal some of that strength. Somehow he had devolved to the point where he could barely take care of himself, barely work up the will to put one foot in front of the other.

But that wouldn’t be okay. It wasn’t right to rely on another person to lift him up when he was utterly powerless to do so. Even as Dorothea said he wasn’t a burden, it didn’t help at all because he didn’t believe it. It could easily become a leeching dependence, and he didn’t want to do that to anyone. Especially not someone who had been such a good friend.

He hated himself, felt selfish and dirty. Wasn’t he just like a mosquito seeking blood by latching on to her and her kindness this way? He still was what he was: a monster, a murderer. He couldn’t forgive himself, he couldn’t figure out which way to turn, he couldn’t even say what he wanted to do with his life and how he wanted to live. He just wasn’t needed.

That was the bottom line. If he wasn’t there, no one would be burdened. He wouldn’t burden them with his emotions and presence as he failed to find the strength to change himself. Dorothea could find her own answers without him. She was strong enough to do it; he believed in that absolutely.

The world, the people he cared for and his enemies alike, they’d all be better off if he was gone. He’d never hurt anyone again. Everyone… They’d be just fine.