The Way We Fall

Chapter 119 (Roche)

Roche sat next to Kai's bed in the infirmary, staring at the bag of armour Tigris had given her. The metal was stained with her lover's ink and blood, crimson stains and black splotches that had burned themselves into Roche's mind.

She worked on it dutifully, carefully mopping up the last traces of Medea. She burned away the blood, and each second felt like Medea burned in front of her, dead skin crackling and bubbling and popping-

Roche sucked in a breath, throwing the chest plate she'd been polishing to the ground, the numbness filling her growing into a void. She stared at the rag in her hand, saturated and dripping. A press of emotion pushed against the numbness, threatening to break free.

"Need some help?"

Roche looked up, every cell in her body freezing at the sight of the youngest prince. Mutely, Roche warily watched him near her, his chocolate curls tousled wildly, his pale skin fresh and clean like he'd had time to bathe.

He'd bathed as she'd held Medea's corpse close to her chest.

"Roche," Finn's voice was soft, so soft and pitying that she looked up. His rosebud lips were pressed tightly together, his throat bobbing with a swallow before he told her, "I'm sorry. I know she was your friend."

Roche nearly laughed. Her friend? Her friend? Finn's vision had clearly not seen everything. He didn't know what Medea meant to her. Had meant.

Roche swallowed reflexively, expecting a wave of tears. But she was empty, a hollow vessel. Her eyes ached as she looked away, back at the pile of armour sitting on the ground.

"You know that I had to say something, right?" Finn asked, almost desperately. She could feel his gaze on her, his eyes begging her to understand.

The worst part was that she did understand. In the end, the gorgon had been ready to kill Tigris, Roche's destiny and the future of the Faultless Kingdom. Yet there was a woman behind the face of that so-called monster. A woman who was soft and caring and witty who knew Roche's feelings in a way Finn could never understand.

Something in her chest stirred, a longing to go see Medea again. But Roche would never see those grey-blue eyes again, never kiss that gentle smile, never smell the seaside scent that had clung to Medea's skin even after days of hiding in tunnels.

"It had to be done, Roche," Finn was saying. He stood in front of her now, behind the pile of armour Roche had thrown down. He waited until she met his eyes before he quietly added, "You shouldn't have hid her."

Roche held his stare. She could hear him yelling the order to behead the gorgon ringing faintly in her ears. Yet she couldn't bring herself to hate him.

Finn had been right. The gorgon would have killed them all.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

Finn's eyes drifted to Kai, still unconscious on the infirmary cot. She understood Finn's desperation now, the overwhelming need for his lover to be safe. She couldn't blame him for what he'd done. She only had herself to blame for being too blind to see the truth earlier. For not being able to take Medea away sooner.

She lowered her head silently so Finn wouldn't see the agony in her eyes. In the periphery of her dry, sore eyes, she saw his leather boots retreating back a couple steps.

"I'm sorry, Roche," Finn repeated again, his voice firmer this time. Less apologetic. "It had to be done."

He pattered out the door. Roche stared after him numbly, unable to muster up even a bit of anger.

Something dripped by her feet and Roche realised she still had the soaked rag clenched between her fingers, dripping a mix of black and red down her arms.