Chapter Twenty Three
Dusk and Dust

 

“He’s gone.” Vera sat against the wall with her arms around her knees. She probably looked sadder than she was. She wanted to be sad. She wanted to cry. It would be easier to cry, in a way. Instead, she felt numb. It felt unreal. It felt like something that hadn’t happened. 

Everything had happened so fast. Fire. Running. Flaveo bursting open, so filled with power it had seared her skin dozens of feet away, and taking away hundreds of demons with him, as well as a chunk of the outer city and even putting a dent in the city wall. 

And then there had been nothing. Silence, deafening. Rubicus speaking without words. Movement from the walls made it clear Flaveo’s sacrifice had not killed every shade. He’d bought them the space to run, and the time to do it. So they had. 

Now she was trying to make the reality of the situation sink in. Flaveo was dead. Vera knew that. Consciously. But she didn’t feel it yet, and that was almost more upsetting. “He’s gone,” she said to herself again. They sat in the house, the one furthest from the gates. No fire, that might have attracted attention. No light in the dark. Not too much talking, just in case. Night hung like a suffocating blanket on them all.

“I’m sorry,” Aesling said. “I understand he was important to you.”

Vera nodded. “A bit like an uncle,” she said quietly. 

“I — I don’t know what that means.” Aesling sounded almost guilty. “Father’s brother? Is that relationship significant?”

“He’s family,” Vera clarified, maybe with a bit more bite than Aesling deserved. “Sorry.”

“I think, given the current situation, you’re owed a bit of grace in social situations.”

“What do you mean?”

“No need to apologize.”

“Thank you.”

“If it helps,” Rubicus said from the other side of the room, where he’d been slowly cleaning his armor, “he never figured he’d make it to the age he did.”

“It doesn’t,” Vera said quietly.

“It will,” the large man said quietly. The loss likely hit him harder than it did Vera. The two of them had known each other for decades, drawing swords together all that time. She didn’t know that much about their life before she’d been taken in by them, but she’d heard the stories. The adventures. 

Caerella sat next to Rubicus, getting some rest. She was up next on guard duty, after Clarus. Wordlessly, she put her head on her friend’s shoulder. In any other situation, the display of affection would have seemed out of place, strange and out of character. She locked eyes with Vera for a moment and blinked slowly, like a cat might. “Are you okay?” her eyes seemed to ask. 

Vera shrugged, thought for a moment, then shook her head and smiled. Of course she wasn’t okay. None of them were. Not being okay was the point. Caerella blinked again. A quiet understanding. 

“What now?” Vera mumbled quietly. She realized she’d spoken loud enough for the others to hear her when they looked at her expectantly. “We failed. We came to the Cavean and…” Well. That sentence didn’t need finishing, did it? 

Flaveo was dead. 

“We try again,” Caerella said. “Of course we try again, Vera.” She looked at Rubicus. “Perhaps you and Rubicus can distract them and draw them out, while I get Clarus up and over the wall. I’m sure I can bring him in close enough to deal that final blow.”

“I think I could scale the wall on my own,” Clarus said quietly as he walked into the room. “Especially after what your man did to it.” He sat down close to Vera, but not too close. She appreciated him giving her space. “I don’t think any of my forebears ever imagined someone doing something like that.”

“Yeah,” Rubicus said. “Flaveo was like that.”

“He was a brave man,” Clarus said, bowing his head. “I am glad I had the chance to meet him.” He shot Vera a slight smile. She gave him one back, and then scooted a little bit closer to him. There wasn’t much in the room. The house had been abandoned in a hurry, but the owners had clearly been of simple means. It was cold and getting colder. He took the hint, and relocated, sitting next to her, and wrapped an arm around her. “I truly am sorry for your loss.”

“It’s okay,” Vera lied. “Or it’s going to be, at the least.”

“It will be,” Clarus said resolutely. “And his sacrifice won’t be in vain, either.” He spoke a little louder now, loud enough for the others to hear. “The Cavean’s forces will have been severely thinned out. Perhaps carving our way to it is no option, but stealth may be our ally now. It will not have the eyes and ears everywhere it did.”

To Vera’s surprise, Caerella nodded. “Agreed. It is highly possible we die tomorrow. The wounds healed by Vera and her… Aesling—” She still sounded hesitant when she acknowledged Vera’s companion. “— They healed well, but not perfectly. They pull at my muscles.”

“I’m sorry,” Aesling said quietly.

“She apologizes,” Vera translated. “She, no, both of us did what we could.”

“I do not doubt that,” Caerella said. “If there was no limit, the Cavean would not have stood a chance. This isn’t an indictment, Aesling, Vera. An observation. When I fight tomorrow, I will likely not be my best.” She shrugged. “I may die.”

“Aye,” Rubicus said. “That’s the truth of it.”

“How can you be so calm about that?” Vera asked in disbelief. “Both of you? Don’t you care?”

“Of course I care,” Caerella said. “If we do not help Clarus take that creature down, it will consume the Capital, then the rest of the country. Everything and everyone I have cared about would die.” She stood up. “That can not happen.”

Clarus gave her another nod. “Whether you would do so for your country or for the people in it, you are fighting for the lives of the people in my kingdom. Thank you.” Caerella nodded back at him. Rubicus saluted him with two fingers. 

“You had better do something sensible with it, then, if me and mine are to die for it,” Caerella said, gesturing at Rubicus.

“I’ll avoid that if I can,” Clarus said frankly, and then smirked. “If not for you, then for Vera. She’s already lost one family member today.” Caerella smiled, quite genuinely. 

“I believe we understand each other, Prince Clarus,” she said, and then turned on her heel. “It’s my turn on watch, if I recall correctly. Get some rest, Ruben. The night is long.” Rubicus just grumbled in response, crossing his arms, but he closed his eyes all the same. Vera knew she ought to do the same. She had to get some rest before dawn. But well…

Clarus was here. Next to her. His arm still around her shoulders. Earlier, she felt like she had trouble feeling like anything, numb more than anything. Now she was full of feelings, and all of them were loud and conflicting. A part of her dreaded the possibility that Caerella was right. That tomorrow, they might not be alive at all. It had all seemed so hopeful, before. Before Flaveo. 

But then there was the voice in the back of her head. If this was her last night with Clarus… She had to make it last, didn’t she? Make the most of it? She looked up at him, his handsome features only accentuated by the blonde stubble that lined his jaw. 

“Can we speak?” she asked. “Alone, preferably?” He looked at her for a moment, his eyes steely even in the dark. 

“Of course,” he said, then pushed himself upright. Vera expected him to have his usual flair and grace, but he stumbled slightly before offering his hand. His face didn’t show it, but the exhaustion was there, in the stiffness of his shoulders. In his eyes. 

Vera gladly took the hand, and found that despite everything, his strength was still his. She almost fell into his arms, the ease with which he pulled her up making her blush and Aesling positively giddy.

“Do you wish me to… retire?” Aesling asked. “I understand if you’d like a private moment. Clarus and I have had a long time to know one another.”

Vera shook her head. “I want both of you to be there,” she said quietly as she led Clarus to the only other room in the house, which appeared to be both a living space and a bedroom. She deliberately did not look at the bed, knowing the heat in her cheeks would spread across her face and all the way up her ears like a wildfire.

Clarus leaned against the table, happy to let her make the first move. “That bastard,” Aesling quipped. “How dare he.” 

Vera walked up closer to him, not sure how to begin the conversation now that she was in front of him. What was she supposed to say? “Clarus,” she said. 

“Good start.”

“I know you wished to have this conversation yesterday…” she said, “but if something were to happen tomorrow—”

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “No dramatic farewells, after all.” He smiled. “Though I did promise to tell you how important you are.”

“Wait,” Vera said, feeling the conversation slip between her fingers. Clarus closed the distance between them, stopping in front of her. She wanted him to put his arms around her, but she also knew he wouldn’t. Not just like that, at least. So she took the last step. Simply resting against him. Her head against his chest. His hands rested on her back.

“You have no idea how important you are, Vera,” he said. “Yes, your body is host to my beloved Aesling, but that isn’t why.” She felt him smile. “Well, not just.” 

“Good.”

“You’re brave and beautiful, and that too contributes to how important you are, in ways you can’t imagine.” Clarus softly kissed the top of her head. “Without you, I doubt myself, Rubicus, Caerella.” He paused. “Flaveo. I doubt any of us would have made it as far.”

“I barely did anything,” she mewled. “I did not come up with any plans, and I am not as good with a blade as you or Rubicus, and—”

“And yet you are here. You harbor a spirit unknown to yourself, while going through changes that would have most in this kingdom reduced to nothing, preparing to fight a monstrosity that has made every fight in your life pale in comparison.” He kissed her on top of her head again. “I understand that, where we are, in this moment, strength is not a choice but a necessity.” 

“But—”

“And it is not where you are strong but where you are not that takes my breath away. You helped me find my way when I felt lost. Stood by both Rubicus and Flaveo when they did not stand by you. You are vulnerable, uniquely so, and yet you are here. At the gates, by my side. That’s… There are no words for that, Vera.”

“I… thank you… I didn’t really have a choice…”

“You did. That, I think, is my point.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, resting her head against his chest. This conversation hadn’t gone like she’d expected it to, and now she was crying.

“Now what did you want to tell me?” he asked a little sheepishly.

“I don’t want tomorrow to be here,” Vera said. “It will come, I accept that, but not yet.” She sighed. “And I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go, myself. This…” she tapped his chest. “I want this.”

“As do I, Vera.” His hand rubbed soft circles between her shoulder blades, relaxing her. 

“This is lovely.”

“Ash enjoys it too,” she said with a little smile. “Both of us… enjoy your arms around us.”

“Well, I’m happy to oblige. There’s nothing on this earth — or beyond it — more important than the two of you.” 

Vera took a deep breath. Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation, then hammering in her chest, like a drumbeat. “I love you, Clarus.” There was no sound in the room for a second, only her breathing and the deafening roar of her heartbeat in her ears. 

“I love you too,” he said. “Of course I do.” He gently lifted her jaw, making her face him, and kissed her.