Rest In Pieces

23

Xadezhda

She had not been warm in so long. There was a fire, throw-overs, and she thought she might have smelled tea next to her bed.

Bed?

Xadya forced her eyes open despite the pounding at the back of her head. Had she been hit?

The room smelled of pine and cinnamon, the walls surrounding her were bare, only housing a few bland paintings and bundles of sage. She pulled herself into a sitting position, reaching for the bedside table.

The mug was still warm, near perfect temperature. Xadya took a long, slow sip. This was Arkāni tea. It reminded her of home.

Xadya tentatively pushed the door open, apprehensive of what threats awaited her on the other side. She found Airo, James, Finley, and Malakhai, scattered around the sitting room, each with their own mug.

Malakhai looked away as soon as their eyes met. She squinted at him.

"How are you feeling, mì dazhka?" Airo asked. He made room for her on the sofa. She rubbed the back of her head.

"Malakhai smacked you over the head with a tree branch," James said bluntly. She noticed how he moved—or rather—didn't move.

Had he been hit?

"That would explain the welt," Xadya muttered. She refused to look at Malakhai. Her corrupted skin spread further now and she could not hide it anymore.

Xadya remembered the transition, what it felt like. What she had done to the monster.

How much she had wanted Airo's heart.

She inched away from him, shuddering at the hunger that never seemed to fade. Hurting people she did not know was an act she had made peace with. But if she ever laid a taloned finger on Airo...

Xadya cleared her throat. "Are we planning something? Where are we?"

Silence.

"We were just trying to figure out how exactly you killed that creature," Airo replied.

Xadya had not killed it. It would be reborn again, again, again.

"I stole its power," she whispered.

Malakhai's pale eyes widened a fraction.

"You can do that?" Finley asked incredulously. "I didn't know the Arcane had so many abilities. Thanks for saving my life, by the way."

"It's not an Arcane ability, and don't mention it."

"This is an abandoned chapel." Malakhai's eyes were fixed on the wooden floors. "We're safe here."

I'm still here, she thought.

Malakhai straightened and stood, wordlessly taking Xadya's empty mug as he left the room. She hung her head, despairing for only a moment before she followed him into the kitchen.

His anxious hands were constantly moving. She watched him from the doorway.

"You ignore me and yet you make me tea."

Tension threaded his shoulders.

"I am not ignoring you," he murmured. Xadya went closer, placing herself next to him as they stared at the boiling water together.

"Okay. You kissed me and then you hit me over the head with a tree."

"In my defence, there was a large gap between the two. And it was only a branch. I doubt I could lift an entire tree."