“I am sorry they did not have useful answers for you. I know you seek to be free of the curse,” I try. “I know you want to go home.”
She looks up at me, and the world stills. I was a fool around her.
“Be happy,”Adra had said to me in a thousand dreams. But was that her, or was it simply my manifestation of what she would say if she could communicate from the afterlife?
I don’t know if it was a betrayal to turn away from Adra and our life together for a new one.
Sucking my lip between my teeth, I think of pulling out Adra’s name tonight to say a prayer before I go to sleep.
I would do it now, but Arlet looks like she is spiraling away under her calm exterior. Someone needs to hold her together—she seems like she needs an embrace.
We are friends.
This woman serves with me on the council. Attends every function by virtue of our chosen family. She deserves more than what I have given her.
I had embraced each of my friends. Many times.
Carefully, deliberately, I cross the space between us. There is no hesitation in the action. Surprisingly, I feel no inner battle.
From this moment, I would not look back. Firelocks would always be my friend.
When she looks up at me, her jaw tightens and her lip quivers.
“Would it be alright if I held you close?” I ask.
She must be very sad, for she nods instantly. Then she sucks in one last breath, face breaking, and I pull her into my arms.
She is warm, impossibly so. Her body melts against mine, the tension in her shoulders unraveling when I press her close.
I hold her firmly, my arms locking her against me as though I can shield her from disappointment.
She is small in my grasp, fragile in a way that unsettles me. Her hands, hesitant at first, curl into my tunic and grip the fabric as though afraid I might disappear if she lets go.
Her sweet scent fills my senses, grounding me. The weight of her against my chest is pleasant.
“For better or worse, I am here for you.”
She buries her face against my arm, and I feel the warmth of her breath through the cloth.
My fingers slide up her back, resting just beneath the curve of her neck. I don’t want to let go first—she can take as long as she needs.
“Thank you,” she says, though her voice is muffled. “I would like that.”
I pat her back once.
“It is not easy to come far only to learn the journey is not yet over. There were days during The Great War that I feared never seeing my home again. I imagine you feel similarly,” I murmur. “But fear not, our threads are woven together in this, and I will not unravel from our task.”
She laughs. It’s a watery sound. “That was quite good.”
Something close to a smile pulls up my cheeks.
“Textile wisdom is just one of my many talents.”
She laughs again, and then pulls back. “It’s time to go, isn’t it?”
I nod, lips pressed together. “Don’t worry, we will go at the pace you need.”
“I like… reassurance,”she’d once told me.