Abolisher [Drothiker #2]

24.

Azryle was still comatose in Syrene's bedroom. After the escape, she'd brought him to her own apartment, and he'd been unconscious since then. Eliver stayed in the guestroom, and Syrene moved to Navy's bedroom for a while.

Refusing to get much farther from Azryle, Ferouzeh and Vendrik stayed in Kavous' apartment across the hall—Kavous, confused as he was, only threw Syrene a wary look before deciding he trusted her, and let them stay.

Faolin, Vurian, Levsenn, and Undesin rented another apartment in the building.

After everything had calmed, Syrene went to bathe—keeping the temperature of water just cold enough to slacken the power, just not enough to press it further.

Syrene didn't want to leave the bathroom, wanted to stay there for a few days, until everyone returned to wherever they'd come from. She didn't know how to face all of them—Navy, mostly. Otsatyas, what would she say? I'm sorry I lied about who I am, and using you to stay hidden from the Queen of Cleystein? Or Sorry I might have overturned your entire life? Or Hi. Cerys Omdrial, the woman I'd conjured up in your imaginations was just that—your imagination?

Or maybe she should start with I'm Duce of Tribes, I have Drothiker running in my veins, and I am the last Starblood, and the last heir of King of Hemvae. Also, did I mention I might burst out any second and take the whole planet with myself? Please forgive me.

Syrene sighed. What would she say to Vurian? How would she tell him that she'd cowered from her purpose, her Destiny? How would she face his disgust and hatred?

She sighed, leaning against the door. Her hand on the knob, her eyes on the mirror. A confused girl gazed back.

Who was she? What had she become? What was she to do now?

Survive, a voice whispered. One step at a time.

Syrene squeezed her eyes shut. She knew no one was sleeping, despite the hour.

Alright, then.

She opened her eyes, turned, and stepped out of the bathroom.

And paused.

Ferouzeh sat beside the bed, holding the unconscious Azryle's hand, tears skittering down her face. The Ferouzeh she'd had met a year ago, the one full of life and mischief, was lost today. She looked broken, and weak.

Her gaze snapped to Syrene when she shut the bathroom's door. She bolted to her feet, rubbing at her tears. "I'm sorry—"

"No," Syrene said. "Ah—it's fine." She walked over to her side.

"He's going to wake up, right?" Her hazel eyes landed on Azryle's face. So peaceful—he looked so utterly at peace without that broody thing his face did, or even that insufferable grin that had her seeing red. "The poison was mixed with xist—I can't reach out to heal him."

Syrene swallowed. "Well, he is breathing."

Ferouzeh let out a broken snort.

"He's going to wake up, Ferouzeh." Her voice softened. "If he doesn't, I'm going to go to Saqa and swear at him."

A breathy chuckle. "Kill him for me while you're at it."

"That might be difficult—but I'll give it a try."

Silence fell.

Then, Ferouzeh turned to face her. Her arms came around Syrene. For a moment, Syrene froze. Otsatyas, how long had it been since she'd hugged someone?

Slowly, her arms went across the healer's slender back.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything you've done for him."