The Way We Fall

Chapter 181 (Tigris)

Tigris snapped awake to someone in her chambers. A dark silhouette stood over her bedside, staring down at her with dark eyes that glinted brightly, like stars in a night sky. Her heart launched up her throat, and her hand darted for her gun. Inexplicably, the weapon moved out of her reach, as if possessed. Tigris gasped and opened her mouth to call for the guards when a voice pierced through the silence of night.

"Your Majesty."

Tigris fell still, her fumbling with her sheets stilling. She knew that voice. Relief bloomed in her so fiercely that it wiped away any lingering fatigue from her mind.

"Roche," Tigris breathed in relief, laughing slightly, "You're back! You're alright."

Roche didn't speak. A sense of wrongness crept into Tigris' chest, pervasive and powerful. She squinted, trying to get a better view of the maid's face in the darkness. After a moment, she managed to reach over to her nightstand and find a match. With a few hissed curses, she lit her lamp, watching the warm light bathe over Roche's face.

The woman looked leagues better than she'd been in the forest, but her skin was still pale and sweaty. Her short hair stuck out in a million directions, and dark shadows stained the space beneath her doe eyes. But what worried Tigris the most was the flat, emotionless line of her lips and the empty look in her eyes. A strange substance was painted over her skin, a mix of rustic copper and a dark sludge. It took Tigris a moment to realise that it was blood and inkblood.

Alarm shot through her, and she sat up straight, throwing off her blankets.

"Roche," she said quietly, her words failing her, "Are you alright?"

Roche blinked at her dazedly like the words took a moment to register. Her golden hands reached out. Her palm cradled Tigris' cheek, her thumb sweeping across the queen's cheekbone. A shiver rolled over Tigris at that moment, a strange stirring beginning in the depths of her stomach. All of it was overshadowed by the concern roiling within her that only intensified as Roche's eyes bloomed with a strange, fervent light.

"You're okay," Roche breathed. Her breath shuddered ever so slightly. Her fingers trembled against Tigris' skin, burning with the fading vestiges of a fever.

Tigris furrowed a brow, confusion melding with her concern. "Of course I'm okay," she said slowly. "Roche, what's going on? Why are you here? It's the middle of the night!"

Roche's lips trembled ever so slightly. Wetness pooled in her eyes, glowing as bright as diamonds.

Tigris realised, with no small amount of panic, that Roche was on the verge of tears. She hadn't seen the maid cry ever since the death of the whisper Ikaros. Something terrible must have happened.

"Roche, what happened?" Tigris whispered again, trying to soften her voice. The edge of her mattress bit into her knees.

"I'm alive. You're alive. Everything's fine," Roche replied quietly, but her voice was still flat and monotone in a way that made it clear that everything was not fine. The maid's chest heaved, and a single tear carved down her cheek, gleaming golden in the lamplight. "Everything's fine."

Tigris stood then, roughly grabbing the woman by the shoulders. Warmth bled through the thin fabric of Roche's dress like there was nothing between their skin at all.

"No you're not," Tigris murmured, "You're still sick. What happened with the librarians? Can Leinos help?"

Roche shuddered, swaying slightly. Her hands came up to grip Tigris' forearms. A desperation filled her eyes, one that Tigris couldn't understand.

"They're gone, Tigris," Roche whispered, "They're all gone and it's my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Tigris tightened her grip when Roche fell silent, her pupils dilating. More blood flaked off her skin. "Roche, what the hell happened to you?"