A Court of Innocents

20: Fire

Tamlin, to his credit, had the decency to close his eyes as I shed my dirty clothes and slipped into the water. I sighed as the warmth enveloped me. My eyes were suddenly heavy, and the weight of fatigue pressed heavier than it had a moment ago.

When I made enough of an effort to open my eyes again, Tamlin was watching me. Darkness swirled in his eyes, and though some of it was clearly laced with desire, I knew it went beyond that. Something was weighing on him, and I was willing to bet all the money I'd earned as his Second that I knew exactly what it was.

"I don't regret making that bargain," I said, my voice slicing through the silence like a knife.

The water had eased the tension in his muscles. Minute by minute, he'd sunken further into the tub, until the water brushed along the stubble lining his jaw. My words erased all of that. His shoulders were once again tight, and he opened his mouth to argue with me, but I beat him to it.

"I know you think I should. I know you think I overstepped. And maybe I did. Maybe that isn't a decision your Second should make. Maybe no one but you should make that kind of decision when it affects your entire court... I'm sorry for that much, at least. I really am.

"But I will not apologize for taking drastic measures in saving your life. I'm not sorry for that, and you can be mad at me for the rest of my life—you can kick me out of your court as punishment for overstepping—but if I had to do it again, I'd choose the same."

"Why?" That single word was sharp and cold and ruthless, a deliberate strike in the distance between us.

"Why... what?"

"Why would you do it again?"

Did he really not understand it? "Do you really not see the way I look at you?"

His eyes snapped to mine, and he looked at me—really looked, for the first time since... I don't know. Perhaps he had never truly dared to look at me like this, to see into my soul, because he feared that he might find disgust and disappointment hidden beneath the friendship I'd offered him.

But now... now I laid it bare. Everything I'd felt for him in the last month—I dared to reveal it. I couldn't voice those emotions, the depths of my devotion, because some things just don't have words for them. But in that single look, I showed him all my love and kindness and gratitude—and that nothing even close to disgust and disappointment filled my heart for him.

"You were the first real friend I ever had, Tamlin. I was born into a court of violence and malice, and you were... you were soft, and light, and... you were the first safe space I ever knew." I swallowed against the lump in my throat. "I wasn't about to let some fucking water wraiths take that away from me."

My words hung heavy on the air between us. I waited for him to say something, to yell or lecture or snarl at me. Instead, he just stared, and between the thin line of his mouth and the way his eyebrows pulled together, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. What he was planning. I couldn't even decipher the emotion in his eyes.

It made my heart race, this anticipation, this not knowing. And I realized that I may have made a foolish choice in reminding him of his anger when I was completely defenseless. Even if I did bare my heart to him.

He rose to his feet, the water sloshing around his navel as he made his way to me. I didn't tear my gaze away from his, didn't reveal an ounce of the fear shaking inside of me. He asked for an unwavering Second, so that's what I'd be.

When he stopped in front of me, I didn't expect him to touch me gently. When his hand lowered to my shoulder, I flinched, not because he'd given me a reason to in the last few weeks, but because... because violence was the only response I knew to anger. And that fire in his eyes was clearly born from anger, but his gentle touch didn't match the heat inside of him.