She didn't remember how she got to the spare bedroom in the Tavern, or came to be lying in the bed, staring into the storm grey eyes of Eli. But somehow it had happened. And somehow, Eli's usual mask of disconnect had cracked down the middle and his brow had creased in a deep furrow of concern.

She blinked and felt her lashes stick together from residue salty tears. She tried to swallow, but her throat muscles were like a kinked hose, saliva gathered on her tongue and dribbled down her cheek. Eli wiped the drool with the corner of a cool, wet towel like one would do a baby before transferring the towel into a large basin next to her bed, dipping, wringing the fabric out, then placing it on her neck. She sighed as the coolness bled the heat from her skin, providing temporary relief from the swollen, constrictive pain.

He lifted her arm. "Freia has been restrained in your dormitory in Phoenix cave. She's no longer a threat to you." He inspected the cuts made by Freia's sharpened nails, applying a brine-smelling salve directly to the wounds and rubbing. "Oroton gave her a sedative to calm her down. She's sleeping."

Ash hissed. The salve, once it had penetrated the dried, caked blood, stung. Eli continued to work it into her skin with procedural precision. Once the salve was dry to touch, he placed her arm back on the mattress and retrieved a folded note from his pocket. "I believe this is yours?"

She didn't take the note—just studied his expression for any change in demeanour to indicate he'd read its contents.

Eli placed the note on her bedside table next to the bowl of cold water. "The Wanderers do not condemn those who act under inevitable circumstances," he said. "You should know that."

His words hung in the air, eluding meaning. Either he'd read the note, or he knew what it contained. Perhaps Freia had exposed her after all. The thought made all the dull aches in her battered body rise to the fore of her conscious. The ache between her eyes where a migraine had settled, the sting on her arm smothered in salve, the painful pulse of the bruised veins on her neck.

But Eli didn't seem angry. He merely took a deep, constricted breath as though he were the one with the swollen throat. "I think it's time I told you what really happened on the night Heather died."

As usual, it wasn't what Ash had expected him to say and despite the fact that she couldn't speak if she tried, she wouldn't have known what to say.

Eli took another constricted breath. "Heather and I were deeply connected. I called it love. But Heather? Her feelings were perhaps not love, but dependence." With a slight shake of his head, he went on. "She came from a broken family like mine. Her mother was addicted to gambling, as was my father. Her father disappeared from her life before she could remember, as had my mother. We were both children of Outcasts, born just before the zero-child policy. She had a sister, I had a brother. It was like we were two halves of the same person—both born of fire, but two complementary parts—I was the coal, she was the flame.

"We met by chance on the docks of the Sansa river—the spot where it used to run beneath Junction Bridge. The river has since dried up, but they used to gather there to transport goods from one side of the city to the other. Back then, I would go once a week to trade black market fruits from the island for medical supplies and food not so easily supplemented in our diets such as flour and dried meats.

"I overheard Heather in a heated argument with a man who'd tried to shortchange her for a deck of hand-painted playing cards she'd sold him. He'd suggested she make up the rest with a favour of his choice while sneering and sticking his hand down his waders. She'd smiled sweetly and proceeded to burn a large dick-shaped hole in the fabric.

"That was Heather. Fiery and unpredictable and when I brought her to the Paradise, it was like watching a flamingo come into its colour. She was the most talented with her force, well-liked and well-respected. We became inseparable friends. I told her everything—how my father used to get drunk and beat my older brother into week-long comas. How we'd have to scrounge around in the dumpsters for food because he'd spend all his money on the golden brew. In return, she told me about the time her mother had tried to sell her to a Madame just to pay off her gambling debt.

"The sharing was good for me. I felt lighter for it, happier to a degree. But for Heather, it only dredged up more memories which, in turn, led to more pain. She began having nightmares every night—repressed memories of her disappeared father, a drunk who would come home each night and take advantage of her mother before turning his attention to her.

Eli stopped and took a long, shuddering breath. Ash thought he wouldn't go on. Then, he said, "As she lost her mind, she began losing control of her force. At first, she wasn't a danger to anyone but herself. And it was always by fire that she did it. Once, she tried to take her own life by roping herself to a tree and setting it alight. It was..." he paused. "Those were the darkest, most terrifying days of my life, waking each day and not knowing..."

He rubbed his temples. "That's what happened on the night of the Spring Equinox. She lost her mind and started screaming about how she wanted it to end, wanted it all to be over, the pain, the memories, everything. She begged me for what felt like the hundredth time, to burn her alive. And when I refused for the hundredth time, she threatened to kill everyone on the island. Even let me into her mind so I knew exactly how she planned on doing it." His voice cracked. "She'd thought of everything."

As his story unfolded, his face crumbled, warped into something else. The filament veins on his face lit up and stood out, angry and blotched where they met and mingled with melted skin, and there was a crooked angle to his smile that spoke of pain grimaced from the deepest recesses of his mind.

There was something more traumatic about watching a brick wall crumble, than a pile of sand. Before she knew what she was doing, Ash took the cool cloth from her neck and pressed it to Eli's burned cheek, holding it there with her cupped palm until she felt the heat withdraw into the fabric.

Eli closed his eyes, but only for a brief moment, before he opened them again, plucked the towel from her hand, dipped it in the water and returned it to her throat. "Do you remember our conversation about the inevitable," he said.

She nodded.

"What you did to Freia's brother, that was inevitable. You were protecting your brother," he said. "And the fact that your brother's working for the Establishment, that's not your fault either. You can't control the actions of others. Their actions, unfortunately, are also inevitable."

She could've explained that her brother was working for the Wanderers, but that would've required too many words. More words than her throat could manage.

Eli stood. "You should get some rest. Keep that towel on to reduce the swelling. If you need me, I'll be in the next room."

He made his way to the door and suddenly, she was filled with an overwhelming sense of trepidation. An image flashed in her mind of her father closing the door and locking it from the outside. "Wait..." she said, though it came out more like a gurgle at the back of her throat. She forced herself to swallow. "Don't leave." This time, her words came out in a hoarse whisper.

Eli paused, door in hand. "I don't think I can stay..." he began.

She squeezed her eyes shut, as though the action would block out his words. She held her breath for him to finish, though nothing further was said. The door closed with a gentle click and she covered her face with her hands, letting out a long, dragging breath that would've been a forlorn wail should she have had access to her voice.

She closed her eyes.

And then, the springs of her mattress squeaked in recess next to her, and the warmth of a body pressed, strong arms wrappings around her and drawing her in just as they'd done in the hull of the boat during the thunderstorm. She hadn't heard him return.

Eli had chosen to stay.

She could see it now—what they were. While she'd killed Eric to protect her brother, Eli had killed the woman he loved to protect his people. Neither of them were monsters. The things they'd done were inevitable.

The revelation was akin to having a splinter removed. The relief was instant.

She slept. Deeply and dreamlessly, the inevitable rise and fall of their mingled breathing.

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*~*

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