Temple Palace

Chapter 9: Tracer

Trey watched Tek as her eyes began to flicker open. After her panic attack she had blacked out. She had been sleeping solidly for the last two days.

He didn't know what had caused it. After the attack in the street it was understandable for her to be slightly nervous, but he had made sure that the man didn't hurt her.

When she woke up she had acted like she was still under attack. Like he was still in the room with her. Haunting her.

All the doctor had been able to prescribe was a calming tea to be administered when she first woke, and rest. She'd gotten plenty of that already.

Her light hair fanned out over his freshly cleaned bed sheets. She was propped up by a mound of pillows but she still hadn't moved. The giant bed dwarfed her, made her look tiny, made of porcelain.

She hadn't moved in two days and he hadn't moved from his place at her bedside.

Tek opened her eyes and immediately sought out his face, her eyes rimmed with sleep and puffy from her tears.

She was still beautiful, in her broken way.

“Tek?” he asked hesitantly.

“I... I hit you,” she said with anguish. Her voice wavered and fresh tears appeared.

“More like swatted me. Don't worry, you didn't leave a scratch. The doctor believes you'll be good as new once you drink this tea.” He held the slightly cooled cup out to her. She shied away from it like it was poison.

“Please drink Tek,” he begged, “you've been acting strangely and it's worrying me.”

She slowly took the cup from him. There was an attempt to hide it but it was plainly obvious that she was trying to avoid accidentally touching him.

After a few sips she seemed to relax further into the pillows.

“Are you ready to tell me what happened to you?”

She shook her head.

“Come on Tek, I was worried. You just passed out in the middle of the street. And then you had that attack...”

“I don't want to talk about what is bothering me,” she stated, in the cool measured tone she had always used before. That voice more than ever was what pissed him off. It was so emotionless, empty.

“Dammit Tek!” he said, swearing.

Her cup and saucer clinked as her hands started to shake. He reached out to steady her, his anger gone, but she pulled away.

“I hit you,” she repeated in a small voice. He wanted to lean closer to hear better but from the way she had been acting lately he knew that would be a bad idea.

“Tek, it's okay,” he tried to reassure her.

“No, it isn't. In my country, violence is an unforgivable sin. No matter what reason, what excuse, what explanation you give. Now do you understand?”

Her stormy eyes met his, magnified by the layer of extra moisture that her emotions threatened to spill at any second.

It took him a moment to get it.

“Oh God. When I killed that man.” He put his face in his hands and scrubbed at his unshaven cheeks, wishing he could take back that moment forever. She that she didn't have to witness him killing anyone.

“But he would have killed us if I hadn't—“

“No excuses,” she repeated, her voice as sharp and unyielding as a blade.

He looked up to see her face but instead of anger he saw misery.

“I'd never seen anyone die before.”

“No one?” There was surprise in his voice.

“Our people's worst enemy is age, and that comes when the time it right, when the best part of life has already passed. Seldom do people die of other causes. We are careful. Accidents are rare as well as sicknesses. We have maybe twenty deaths a year in the city. They are public affairs and the entire population mourns with the family. Our clothes are all white to show the colour of what death should be.”

Trey remembered with a shock that the Matres colour of mourning was red. The colour of blood. Of murder.

“Tracer, I understand that you would not hurt me. You promised not to and I trust your word. But Tracer, my people will not accept you, knowing of how your upbringing poisoned you.”

“So because I was supposedly kidnapped and raised by a ruthless enemy general I can never return to my home? That sounds supremely unfair.”

“I guess.” She bit her lip. “There is one way. If the Chamera herself was to look into you and forgive you, you could return.”

Until that moment he hadn't realized how much he really needed to know the truth about his past. When he looked at Tek he could sometimes see the faint shadows of a little girl with blond hair giggling as she ran and hid in a game of childhood.

“Okay,” he sighed, “I'll do that.”

Tek smiled, all the energy at once returned to her face. “Good, we should leave at once.”

He nodded an got up to pack some travelling supplies.

“And Tracer? Why am I in your bed?”

He turned and grinned at her rosy cheeks and easy innocence. “Hey, I wasn't using it. You needed your sleep. Rest until it's time to leave.”

He turned away again thinking sourly about how he wasn't going to miss the cold stone room with it's large uncomfortable bed. No, he was ready to leave it all behind.