"Fine," she said. But it wasn't fine at all. Nothing was fine.
* * *
An hour later they were sat on the couch in the tower, close, but neither touching the other. The distance of inches felt like a huge gulf between them. Lindsay glanced up at Carak. "Tell me what happened," she said.
Carak took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, staring at his clawed hands as he began. "We call it the Midnight Massacre. It was supposed to be our night of glory. Instead, it was the night we lost the king's brother, the second prince, Adir and half of our fighting force. It was the last night Nobillo soldiers fought beside the Children of the Immortal."
He looked away from her. "Our scouts had located a large encampment we believed to be the Bona Serat Corsar's. This was back when there were still many Bonat living in the forest. We'd hoped to make it a decisive victory, a celebration of our military might on the day of Jericho's Fall. It was to be broadcast over all of Kirith.
"Prince Adir and I planned the attack down to the smallest detail, but, somehow, they were ready for us. We were to start with a gas attack, as we'd been doing, and when the smoke cleared, we'd swoop down and finish off the rest. But when we came down, we found they were wearing masks to stop the gas. They threw their own burning gas from the trees. I remember being blinded by the pain. I tore my shirt, drenched it in water from my canteen, and used it to cover my mouth and eyes.
"Prince Adir tried to intervene, but he was distracted by the pain from the smoke. I watched through the torn fabric as he was struck through by one of their harpoons and pulled in. And that was the last I saw him.
"In the burning fog, they jumped down from the trees onto my men. I called for a retreat." His head shook as did the rest of his body. "I might as well have been shouting into the wind. They were blinded, confused, they couldn't find the sky. I flew down to marshal them, and that was when a Bonat landed on me and sliced me across my back, hammering at my wings with his harpoon. I knew they were broken beyond repair. I cannot begin to describe the pain. I tumbled to the ground, making sure to land on the Bonat, hoping to crush him. But he jumped off before I hit, slicing my calf muscle in the process.
"I fought to get up, but my leg was useless. It was all I could do to stand."
Carak's gaze flickered to his bad leg before moving to the space on the floor between his feet. "When I turned to face him, I recognized him as the Bona Serat Corsar. He was relentless, and I, without my spear. From the screams, I knew the night was lost. I had to return home to warn them of the burning gas. But I could see the Bona Serat Corsar had no intention of letting me go.
"With my wings broken, I had no chance but to make for the woods, but I'd only been able to land a few scratches on him and even if I managed to run, he would know the forest far better than I. I had no choice. I allowed him an opening. I felt the harpoon go into my chest. I tore it out and yanked the rope in. In that moment, he was close enough for my claws to reach his face."
"You're the one who gave him his scars," Lindsay said.
"I ran while he held his face, I remember his hands covered in golden blood. And he was shouting. As I ran by him, I remember raking his body with my claws, but he was wearing some kind of metal armor. I doubt it even scratched him."
His eyes turned upward as though looking up at something she couldn't see. "I remember the woods. My wings made it hard to move quickly and they were too big to hide. Every so often I would hear the screams of the other survivors who had made it to the trees. The Bonat were hunting us. I did the only thing I could. I found a sharp rock and lay down with my wing resting on a large, flat stone, and I smashed my wing with the rock until it finally cut through. I did it eight times."
Lindsay winced at the thought of the pain he must have been in. She couldn't even imagine. And to do it eight times!
Carak continued, still staring at his hands. "It was everything I could do not to pass out, but I knew if I did, or if I screamed from the pain, they would find me. I vomited four times. But I kept going until the last one was gone. Not that I was much better off. I could barely walk. I made a walking splint from branches and strips of my uniform. I remember my vision going red every time I stepped down on the crossbar.
"The days after are a blur. I remember hiding, nearly being found so many times. I would stare at the canopy and pray to the Immortal that I would see the stars again. And then, one day, the forest ended and I was on the green grass of the Immortal's Plain. That is where the Korsuch found me.
"I told them what had happened. Of course, they'd seen the broadcast by then. But I hadn't. It was horrible to watch. Jericho's children leaping from the trees in their black masks, spearing my poor, blinded men with their harpoons. Of three hundred of our best men, I was the only one to make it back alive. I was the only one who could tell them what happened that night."
"How did you ever... I mean, how could you join Rivuk in fighting for them? I'd think you'd hate them! I'd hate us," she said, looking at his hands.
Carak looked at her. "I did hate them for a long time. If I am to be fully honest with you, I still do, though much less than I did."
"Why?"
"Because, even though I may hate them, they deserve to live. And, because, since that day, the king decided no Nobillo would ever serve in the Flying Forces again. Nobillo lives were too precious to sacrifice to fighting -- Children of the Immortal weren't. They made tens of thousands of us, sending us to die in the forests in overwhelming numbers, grinding down the Bonat people through the sheer amount of Children they were willing to send to their deaths.
"There was talk of the mercy of putting me down, but Rivuk, though he was young, argued that I might still be useful, both for my genes and for my knowledge. I'd only known him in passing. I'd once played boats with him in his second lanc. From then on, whenever I visited the palace, he always tried to come see me, at first to play, then to talk. I rarely had the time, but, of course, what I had, I gave to him -- he was my prince, afterall.
"I thought he'd grow out of it. I always thought that my next visit would be the one where he treated me as my station demanded. But he never did. When he celebrated his fourth lanc, he chose me as his hest. The first Child of the Immortal to ever serve in that role.
"When Rivuk took control of the military, he swore to me he would put an end to the senseless killing of my people. He cut the breeding program in half. He leaned on me for strategy. But I knew he had no desire to kill the Bonat. He often told me peace with them was the only way to save my people. He truly believed in saving the Children through peace with the Bonat."
His expression grew sorrowful. "Somewhere along the way, he gave up on his people. He began to feel they weren't worth saving. That it would be better for Okeshi if they died off. He'd been looking for a way to do it for over a lanc, then Boz handed him a plan. And that was when he met you. He saw something in you that gave him pause. When he found out you'd become the wife of the Bona Serat Corsar, I think he began to have hope again. Since then, you've been all he can talk about, you and the new plan. How we can save everyone. For that I am eternally grateful."
"But you still hate the Bonat," Lindsay ventured.
He heaved a heavy sigh. "You've been helping me let go of that hatred. It is very hard for me to hate them when you love them so much. And when you look at me the way you do and treat me like I'm a person of value, I can't help but think that perhaps... perhaps a race that would have you as their leader, might... Might be a race worth forgiving."
It sounded like a romantic confession. Looking into Carak's eyes, she found she wanted to rest her cheek in his clawed hand. Again, there was that wave of affection, so much stronger this time. In her memory, she heard Rivuk's voice taunt, "Could it be love?"
She swallowed hard. Yes. It had probably been back then, too, but she hadn't been open to accepting it. Now, there was no question. She'd fallen in love with Carak. She felt the urge to kiss him, not on the cheek or the brow, but on his narrow lips. But that was almost certainly a bridge too far.
For all of them.
Sirix would never forgive her, Rivuk almost certainly wouldn't. And Donil? Donil might be willing to understand it, emphasis on the might. And what about Carak? He'd never forgive himself -- that was if he had feelings for her and they weren't just her own wishful thinking.
Just because she had feelings for him didn't mean she had to act on them. This wasn't like with Donil, where Sirix had completely supported them and she and Donil were clearly bursting with desire for each other. No, this could only be destructive, and for Carak more than anyone.
Lindsay reached out, laying her hand on his large forearm. "Thank you, for trusting me."
He put his hand on top of hers. She felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her. She shouldn't have done that. She should have him call Rivuk. She should go back to her husband's room. She should... "Read me a story, Carak."
"Of course." He took their book from the side table and opened it. Lindsay scooted in close. Carak wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in, then began.
