21st of Thira, Continued

The luxglass was cool against my cheek in spite of the warmth of the afternoon sun beating down on the city streets. I closed my eyes, grateful for something solid and tangible, and a moment of uninterrupted silence.

Braeton wasn't in the traveling compartment. He had sent me back to the hotel to get ready, and then left on some nameless, unexplained errand that I had every reason to believe would remain nameless and unexplained. We hadn't had a proper meeting since we arrived in San Domynne. Lately, he had only given me lists to memorize and quizzed me on my part in The Plan, but there hadn't been any real communication beyond that. There hadn't been time.

I was alone. Alone, and silent, and cold. So cold.

Arramy was on the other side of the compartment wall, up in the cockpit with Henmyrre, just like he had been yesterday, and the day before that, and all the days since we had gotten off the boat in San Domynne. Like nothing had happened. Which was my fault.

I hadn't told Braeton. I had the chance after we left Fawaddh's Salon. For several seconds we had been by ourselves in the lift, and I could have told him then, but the words had gotten tangled in my throat. I choked on them all the way through the hotel foyer and out to the boardwalk, and then Braeton put me in the horseless, told Henmyrre to head back to the hotel, and that was that.

And on some deep, dark level, I was glad

I closed my eyes and thumped my temple against the glass. The contact did nothing to keep the guilt from growing like a canker in my stomach, but I did it again anyway. How could I still be keeping that secret? How could I do that, jeopardize the entire plan for him? It was unthinkable. He didn't just have blood on his hands, he was neck-deep in it. He was a Coventry animal. Nothing should be holding me back, and yet it was there, a flimsy little thread of resistance and disbelief sewing my lips shut. I was just as much a traitor as the Captain. No. I was a naive traitor. The only reason I had was that I didn't want Arramy to be a monster because that would mean I had been an idiot.

And now my next chance wouldn't be until we left for the party. Braeton was going to pick me up from whatever errand he was on, which meant that, for at least the next five hours, I would have to keep pretending I hadn't been anywhere near the rooftop.

My head gave a vicious throb.

After a moment, I inhaled slowly on an inside-out groan, and used my own unspent breath to bring myself up straight. We were almost back to the hotel. Somehow, I had to pull this off.

I wanted to be sick. 

~~~

It was nearly time to leave. I ignored the Midnight Goddess in the looking glass, thanked Ina for her hard work, and swept out into the sitting room.

To my surprise, Arramy was the only other person in the suite. He was pouring himself a drink at the sideboard, and when I came out, he went still, his eyes locking on me in the mirror above the counter. His lips parted.

My heart did a rapid double-tap in my chest, and I looked away. "Where did Henmyrre go?" I asked, moving to the long couch, where the parcels from Fawaddh's had been deposited in the rush to get ready.

Arramy put the decanter of port down and turned around, leaning his backside against the sideboard and crossing his arms over his chest, one eyebrow rising as his gaze traveled from the top of my head to my feet. "He's talking to Longwater in the hallway."

Blast. "Oh," I nodded, hiding an instant jolt of panic by ducking my head and rummaging about in the boxes. I found the velvet cloak Braeton had bought, and dragged the thing out of its tissue paper, whipping it around my shoulders. It was such a dark red it looked black until the light caught it. Then it looked like blood. A flowing, rippling river of blood. My fingers were shaking as I fastened the ridiculously intricate silver lily clasps that held it shut. I couldn't get the top one lined up right. Once. Twice. The third time the clasp came apart, I swore out loud.

Arramy started toward me.

I kept jabbing the clip into its housing, trying to get it to click together like the others. Such a tiny thing, but if I didn't get it to work, the hood would gape open too far, which would make the whole cloak hang crooked when it wasn't designed to —

"Here. Let me." Arramy's voice was quiet and close, his large, lean hands coming into my range of vision.

I shook my head and shoved the halves of the clasp together again.

Gentle fingers caught mine.

Still shaking my head, I tried to tug free. "No, I can do it, I don't need –"

"Do you always have to be so damned stubborn?" He muttered, holding tight enough to keep me from getting away, while somehow managing to get the clasp to connect properly on the first try.

With an angry growl, I let my jaw jut and gave him a flat glare from beneath my eyebrows.

He quirked a crooked grin. A very charming, very endearingly crooked grin. The kind of grin that made one corner of his mouth deepen, and his eyes go all warm and liquid silver. He was still holding my hands.

I swallowed, then took a step back, my throat hot.

His grin faded, but he let go, his gaze somber.

For several, endless seconds it was perfectly, painfully quiet, a near-suffocating tension filling the space between us. Arramy had just opened his mouth as if to say something when the sudden chime of the timekeep hitting the hour made me jump. Dazed, I wrenched away, breaking that mesmeric stare. Bag. I needed my bag.

"Wait, I ah... I have something for you. Before you go."

I stopped moving. Everything is fine. You have to make him believe everything is fine. I didn't know how. Slowly, I forced myself to face him again, my hands clenching the folds of my cloak tight. Smile. I couldn't. It wasn't there. I could fake a smile for anyone else, but not Arramy.

He reached into his back pocket and drew out a small box, a self-deprecating twist to his mouth as he glanced down at it for a moment. "I've thought about giving this to you for a while... but you had your compass necklace, so I thought it would be a wee bit silly... And then I thought maybe you wouldn't want it when you had all of Braeton's pretty things..." He cleared his throat. "It's ah... It's not much, but it's been with me through plenty."

When I didn't move to take it from him, he tilted his head, regarding me thoughtfully. Waiting. Patiently. Holding out that box. 

It was plain, made of resinwood and tied with a piece of twine. I tried to tell myself that refusing it might give me away, but in the end I wasn't thinking anything of the sort. The man who had saved my life more times than I could count was standing there, offering me a gift. I couldn't undo what I had heard on the hotel roof. When Braeton came to fetch me, everything would change. After tonight, if everything went as planned, I would never see the Captain again, and all I would have left of him would be what was in that box. I couldn't breathe, every muscle frozen as Arramy placed it on my open palm.  

My voice wouldn't work. There weren't any words I could say anyway. I managed a haphazard nod, turned, and made for the door, my vision blurring, my heart breaking under the weight of what I was about to do.

..........................................................