Bright Flame, Deep Shadow (lesbian story)

Flick

For a moment, I feel nothing. Then Tanvik wrenches his blade free and agony explodes from my shoulder, flowing through my muscles like my blood itself is on fire. My muscles seize up, but I manage to claw the strand away from my face, no longer caring about being quiet. I'm on my knees—when did that happen?—and the pain shocks me speechless. He stabbed me. I kneel there gasping, uselessly trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands as it soaks my fingers.

When the point of Tanvik's blade pricks against my throat, the fight drains out of me. It's over.

"I should kill you now," Tanvik hisses, but his breath is laboured too, though he's trying to hide it. "Save them the trouble of a hearing. You'll be hung anyway," he says.

My eyes flicker shut. I know it's true. How could I have been so fucking stupid to think I could beat Tanvik in a fight, of all people?

He turns his blade so it rests fully against my throat. He'll do it. An image of Bella waiting for me in the Shadows drifts into my mind, but then my lips start to tremble when I remember what happens to the bodies of deserters. I've heard the stories, and none of them mention getting sent to the Shadows.

Then, the air rips apart and a girl's scream smashes the taut silence of the office.

I know that voice.

I open my eyes at the same moment Arabella Saethryth kicks Professor Tanvik in the head. I scramble to a crouch, holding my dagger out in front of me with shaking hands. My vision goes spotty as my shoulder bleeds, but I still see Bella kick Tanvik, and again, and again, screaming like a demon—perhaps the Shadows have turned her into one—until he is still.

The stab wound killed me, I know that now. It must have. A dead girl kneels over me, holding my head in her lap. There is blood everywhere. My blood. I heard a song once, about a soldier who died and his dead wife appeared to lead him into the next life. That must be why Bella is here. My hand trembles as I reach up to stroke the back of her hand. She feels real. Her crying sounds real, too, but if I'm dead then doesn't everything else stop being real? There is only us.

Someone is shouting, a man, but he sounds a long way off. Bella gasps and stops stroking my face. She gently sets my head on the floor and stands. She's shaking, too, but she grabs a strand anyway. At her hip is a dagger, like the one Grumach gave me.

"No," I whimper softly. "Don't leave." How can I move on if I'm alone?

But she does leave, and with her goes the last of my strength.