Jonas’s hand still clutched a bunch of empty sheet. He had flopped to his side when a nurse helped Llew from her bed. Usually Jonas would have done it, his Syakaran strength allowing him to support her in the least painful way, but for now he wasn’t up to the task. His head and neck were folded at an uncomfortable-looking angle, and he had started snoring, quiet but rattly.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Llew gently ran her fingers through his hair, careful not to make contact with his scalp.

Her initial contempt for his drunken state had faded. Yes, she had been attacked and lost her baby, but he had lost his child, too, and he’d been wonderful looking after her since; spending nights by her bed, helping her bathe, and pee, and not once leaving her to feel scared about her future prospects as they now stood. He’d promised to take her to her tree, make sure she healed fully, as soon as possible. And all the while, they now knew, his child to his murdered wife was out there somewhere, needing him, and his mentor and father-figure – child murderer – was out there somewhere else, giving everyone else a reason to need him.

Could she really blame him for taking measures to step out of that reality for a few hours? She couldn’t deny she appreciated how absolutely her own medications took her out of this realm of pain and sadness. Sometimes, she couldn’t tell if her belly ached because it had been ripped open or from the very real emptiness. Much simpler to choose numbness.

She pulled her hand back, snaked it under the sheet and worked it forwards to meet his, a protective layer of cotton between their handhold.

“… sorry,” he whispered.

Llew smiled.

Jonas slept most of that morning. For a short while, he moved to the cot they’d had set up in Llew’s room. But most of his time was spent by Llew’s side.

Whether he sat, silently comforting her, or slept with his head resting beside her, Llew could imagine the tug-of-war going on in his head. He had a child out there, but Llew was here, bedridden, and she needed him.

She wished she didn’t. She wished she could let him go. Or, better yet, help him. But she couldn’t say she was excited by the prospect of returning to Turhmos. Going to her tree was a big enough ask. She needed to go or face months of pain as well as being a danger to anyone who came near, but Turhmos terrified her. They would know about her by now. She’d left a huge scar across their landscape in her effort to get back to Brurun with a wound inflicted by a Syakaran knife.

If she let herself think too much, though, she would never feel safe.

Braph had made it into Quaver, to Taither, into the barracks, into her room, and he didn’t even have his magic anymore. Who wouldn’t be able to find her if they were determined enough?

She rubbed at her head. If she continued down that path, she would resent Jonas his oblivion. One day. Let him have this one day.

----------------------------------------

“Knock, knock.”

Llew looked up to see Cadyn poking her head through the door. The captain grimaced at the still sleeping lieutenant. She greeted Cadyn with a slight smile, still unsure sure how to take her. Cadyn had made it clear she was unimpressed by Llew’s presence within Quaver, but it seemed Aris’s actions had given everyone even more to worry about.

Cadyn stepped into the room, hands behind back, shoulders curved humbly, but just a little. She wanted something.

“I heard a rumor that Braph was here.” Her cheeks rippled over clenched teeth. Cadyn had as much reason to hate Braph as Jonas and Llew did.

“He is in custody,” Llew said.

Cadyn nodded, her body tensing. Llew wondered how much effort it was taking for her not to run to the cells and throttle the man who had killed her sister.

“And …” Cadyn softened. “My nephew? He might live?”

Llew nodded.

Jonas muttered something, pulled his hand free of Llew’s and dragged himself up to sitting, groggily. He blinked around at the room. On seeing Cadyn, he groaned, looked down at himself and rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair.

Llew and Cadyn shared a joking grin.

“I was asking after my nephew,” Cadyn said. “I understand he lives.”

Jonas got most of the way to standing, grimaced, and sat heavily in the chair by Llew’s bed. He stayed there a moment.

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“Braph said my son was at his home.” His gravelly, after-whisky voice rolled the words out before he cleared his throat.

A chilling memory of a baby crying, echoing through the bowels of Braph’s house, sent a shiver through Llew, then pain, and she winced.

“I think I heard him,” she said.

Jonas looked up.

“At Braph’s. I heard a child crying. I never saw it, though. And Aris asked me about it.” She could have kicked herself for not thinking further on Aris’s interest. “I should have known … I’m so sorry.”

Jonas waved a dismissive hand and rubbed at his face again. He caught his head between his hands and rested his elbows on his thighs.

Cadyn and Llew shared a look. Cadyn’s eyes glittered with hope. Llew lowered hers in guilt. What a mess she’d made of things in Turhmos. She’d let Cassidy die in the night, and then she’d heard Jonas’s son at Braph’s home and hadn’t rescued him. Then again, she had attempted to rescue her pa, and that hadn’t gone to plan. In all likelihood, if she’d tried taking the child with her, he’d have died at her hand, too.

“Why would Aris keep your baby’s survival secret?”

“Fucked if I know,” Jonas said with a distance in his voice suggesting he might just as easily have been talking to himself. “None of it makes sense. Why would Braph take my baby? Why would Aris hide that from me? Why would Hisham—?”

What had Hisham done?

As if summoned, Hisham cleared his throat at the open doorway. The Karan lieutenant couldn’t meet an eye in the room.

Jonas eased himself up from the chair, what had ailed him suddenly under control. He took a moment to establish an air of nonchalance, wiping at his nose, adjusting his balance, and clearing his throat.

“Did you know anythin’?” he asked.

“No,” Hisham replied, immediately on the defensive. “Not about this.” He nodded at Llew. “I swear.”

“Then … what did you do?”

“Nothin’.” Hisham’s face clouded at the obvious lie.

“What did Aris mean when he said, ‘Just like Kierra‘? You saw somethin’. Tell me.”

Hisham opened his mouth a couple of times, still unable to look at anyone, or form words.

Jonas waited.

“Braph didn’t burn your house after the attack,” Hisham said after a short silence. He looked pained to say it.

Silence settled on the room; everyone’s attention focused on Hisham.

“Aris had me do it,” he concluded little over a whisper.

“Why?” Jonas’s voice hid none of the brewing anger, the coherent word all that separated the utterance from a feral snarl.

Hisham still couldn’t look at anyone, least of all Jonas, despite his eyes’ seemingly suicidal desire to see Jonas’s reaction for themselves. Finally, he spoke, “‘Cause the baby was gone, sliced from Kierra’s belly.”

A piercing cry escaped Cadyn as she lunged at Hisham, but Jonas caught her by the arm.

“He’s mine,” he said.

“He stole my sister from me!”

“Braph stole Kierra from us,“ Jonas said, still gripping her arm. “Hisham followed orders.”

“Aris said he would look for the child!” Hisham said, suddenly free from his need to keep the secret. “Said it was for your own good! He didn’t want you to see her like that. Didn’t want you putting yourself at risk going after a baby. And he did. He sent people to look for it. I don’t know what happened. We assumed Braph took it. I don’t know why they never found him.”

Jonas released Cadyn and walked towards Hisham.

“I would’ve found him!“ Despite Hisham’s height advantage, he shrunk back from the angry Syakaran. “I could’ve brought my child home!“ Jonas emphasized his words with a finger to his chest.

Cadyn nodded behind him. No doubt, she would’ve rushed right into Turhmos with Jonas to save her nephew.

“I know! And I’m sorry! But Aris … It made sense at the time. I’m sorry.” Hisham deflated into his shame.

The men stood, Jonas glaring at Hisham, who was still unable to meet his eyes.

Jonas suddenly turned and kicked the little occasional table that sat by the wall beneath a pitcher of water. Water, porcelain, and table spun up and crashed down, showering Jonas and Hisham in water and the floor in shattered porcelain. Jonas caught himself against the wall, punched it, cracking the wood veneer. Fist balled, bleeding, and jaw locked, he breathed through his rage. He pushed himself off the wall and turned back to Hisham, who took an involuntary step back.

“You’re my best friend.” Jonas’s voice rasped.

Hisham gave a nod, a wistful smile touching his lips.

“But I can’t be lookin’ at you right now,” Jonas finished.

Hisham nodded again, the smile melting. He didn’t try to defend himself. He left the room, head bowed.

For a while, Jonas didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He moved around the room, grabbed at his hair, growled between clenched teeth, leaned against furniture or walls, then paced some more. He glanced Llew’s way several times. He finally came to a stop, leaning a shoulder against a wall, and punched it, cursing.

Even Cadyn seemed to shrink where she stood, leaving Jonas to rage around her.

He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

And in the middle of all this; who could he trust? Everyone he counted on had let him down or died.

He thumped the wall behind him again and strode from the room, muttering, “I gotta talk to Braph.”

Again, Llew found herself sharing a look with Cadyn. What could Jonas possibly have to talk about with the man who’d tried to kill him, and had killed his wife? Cadyn showed great presence of mind in not following him. She swept her gaze over the broken porcelain and wet everything.

“I’ll give him this one time. He looks like a man who needs to talk to his brother. But he and I will have words about this.” She sighed in resignation and gestured at the mess. “I’ll get someone to take care of that.”

And Llew was alone.

She could understand Jonas’s anger. Even the fact that part of it stemmed from her injuries keeping him there when he could have been dashing off to claim his living child. No. She couldn’t begrudge him his outburst.

But, after all he’d done, why would Jonas turn to Braph? That, she couldn’t understand. It scared her. And it hurt.