She turned away, her jaw clenched.
After a moment, Simon asked quietly, “Is it Remy that’s keeping you from sleep?”
She nodded. It wasn’t entirely a lie.
“You should try talking to him again. It’s been days. Neither of you will heal like this.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t bear to hear him tell me yet again how much he hates me.”
“You’re the adult here. He’s the child. Reach out to him, remind him you’re here. Remind him you love him.”
“It isn’t as easy as that,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You didn’t see his face, when he said those things to me. When he screamed at me. The way he looked at me… Like all the life had been sucked from his eyes, leaving only a flat sort of hatred behind.”
Her voice buckled under. She heard Simon move closer and held her breath, both hoping and fearing that he would touch her.
“If it would help,” he said, “we can wait a day or two to resume our sessions. You can rest. There’s time for it. We’re safe here.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was so gentle that it startled her. “Eliana, I want to help you. I can’t bear seeing you like this.”
Her body warmed at his words. Such tenderness in his voice—her mind hardly knew how to process it. She turned back to face him, and at the sight of him standing there, his scars half lit by the waning afternoon light, his expression fiercely earnest, she nearly succumbed to the urge to go to him. He would hold her, if she wanted it. He would fight her, if that’s what she preferred.
He would take her to his bed and help her forget every insurmountable thing that now faced her.
She stepped away from him. She refused to stray from the path she had set for herself. Navi depended on her focus.
“Thank you,” she managed, “but I think I just need some sleep.”
• • •
Eliana entered Navi’s room as if she were stepping across a plate of brittle glass.
Navi lay on her bed, a sheen of sweat making her sallow skin gleam. Her breathing came in thin wheezes. Dark tendrils spread across her flesh, as if her veins now held ink rather than blood.
The nurse sitting on watch rose and bowed his head. “Would you like privacy, my lady?”
Eliana nodded, though in truth, she didn’t want to be left alone with Navi. What if she turned violent again? What if Eliana were forced to defend herself and ended up killing yet another innocent woman?
The sensation of Arabeth sinking into Rozen’s throat came back to her—the phantom press of it, flesh giving way to blade, blade sinking into muscle.
She turned away from the memory, denying its hold on her heart.
With the nurse gone, she opened a door leading to a large terrace. The air in the room smelled stale, clogged with the smoke of incense and prayer candles. For a moment she stood at the open door, steeling herself in the chill evening breeze before perching gingerly on the nurse’s abandoned chair.
She scolded herself for her hesitation. Were it not for her, Navi would not have been captured by Fidelia. She would be well and whole.
Gently, she held Navi’s hand. “I don’t know if you can hear me, and I hope…” Her voice failed. She tried again. “I hope you’re not in too much pain. I have a way to help you.” She forced herself to look at Navi’s face, which even in sleep looked strained.
“I’m going to leave soon, I think. I hope.” Eliana laughed a little, her thumb nervously rubbing the back of Navi’s hand. “I think I’ll come back. But even if I don’t, if I can’t, I’ll find someone to send medicine back for you. Zahra says she knows a place, a secret place, where they have the antidote to the crawler serums Fidelia put inside you. Isn’t that wonderful?” She shook her head, looked away. “God, what am I doing here? I sound ridiculous.”
“No, you don’t,” came Navi’s sleepy voice. “Please, keep talking.”
Eliana flinched, startled. “Sweet saints. I thought you were asleep.”
Navi smiled faintly. “I was. But then this irritating friend of mine came into my room and started chattering at me.”
“You need better friends.”
“Impossible.” Her hand tightened around Eliana’s. “My friend is journeying to a secret place to help me, apparently. What better friend could I ask for?”
Eliana drew a deep breath. “You won’t tell anyone?”
“If I did, wouldn’t that diminish the chances of you finding this magical medicine Zahra promised?”
“It’s not magical. It’s medicine. An antidote.”
“I won’t tell anyone. Just…” Navi struggled to move closer.
“Stay still, please.” Eliana shifted to the bed’s edge. “I’m right here.”
“Promise me it isn’t dangerous,” Navi whispered.
“I can’t do that.”
“You are more important than I am, Eliana. You must protect yourself.”
“Because I’m the Sun Queen?” Eliana muttered.
“If I die, my family and people will mourn me. If you die, the world will fall.”
“The world may fall anyway. It’s fallen before.”
“The people suffering under the reign of the Empire need hope more than they need me. And you are that hope.”
Eliana turned away. “I don’t know how to be anyone’s hope.”
Navi touched her cheek, turning her back. “You’re mine already. Did you know that? I’ve prayed to you all my life, before I knew your face. And since I learned who you are, I’ve prayed to you instead. You, Eliana, the Sun Queen of my prayers and my dreams. I lie here in this stinking bed as Fidelia’s poisons eat me alive, and I think of you and pray to you, and when I do that, I feel a lightness in my heart that helps me bear the rest of it. For even if I die, you will live on, and you will ride into the Emperor’s city on a steed of light and burn down every one of his towers until all that remains is ashes.”
Eliana blinked back tears, blotting Navi’s brow with a soft white rag. “You need to rest. You’re talking like a madwoman.”
“I know what I see when I close my eyes. I know what my prayers tell me. My prayers are of the empirium, and the empirium doesn’t lie.”
“The empirium is dead. It died long ago.”
“And now it lives again, in you.” Navi kissed Eliana’s hands, her face tightening with pain, and Eliana realized, her stomach turning, that Navi lay bound to the bed with cushioned ties. “Go, before I become something other than myself. And be safe, Eliana. Wherever you go, whatever you do for me, it is not as important as what you can do for them.”