Chapter 30
“Depends how you define well,” Seori said, then paused. “And whether you mean short term, or longer.”
Wraith snorted.
“Do you make him laugh, too?”
Seori beamed, her pleasure briefly washing over Wraith like a wave at the shore. “On occasion.”
“Good. He needs to laugh more.” She picked up her tea, looked at Elijah’s wife. “So how did you two crazy kids meet?”
He floated.
Contemplated eternity.
Calm…
or Chaos?
And was it ever really a choice?
“I’m a doctor. I don’t know if you picked that up earlier.”
Wraith shook her head, but wasn’t surprised. She’d met a few doctors before who radiated care and competence the way Seori did. Healers, in the truest sense.
“His attack wasn’t exactly successful. But he was able to breach the outer defenses. So, by the time he didn’t hit us,” she added dryly, and much to Wraith’s surprise, they shared a smirk, “his ship was broken and his body with it.”
Seori shook her head sadly, “The Void is not kind to strangers. Even strangers who are sometimes friends. And I’m sorry to say that a lot of the time, neither are we.”
So, I should be grateful I’m here drinking tea instead of back in that cell… or worse. Got it.
“He was brought on board. More, I think, to find out whether more of you were coming than out of any duty of care. But care for him, I did, according to the Oath I swore.”
She paused, took a long swallow of tea as if steeling herself against the memories to come.
“Healing his body was easy. But he would not speak to us. Would not let us in. He just watched. And blocked. And waited. I’ve never met another with a will as strong.” Her gaze met Wraith’s, “Until today.”
How the fuck do you accept a compliment from your ex’s Other wife?
“Thank you. I think.”
Seori laughed at her, “Void, he missed you. He once told me that he loved you before he ever kissed you. That you taught him how to fight and how to feel, sometimes in the same breath.”
The dagger was back, wrenching through her heart.
Seori’s gaze sharpened, realization dawning on her face. “I can’t apologize. You shaped the man we both love into who he is.”
Wraith closed her eyes against the pain and against the truth she couldn’t deny any longer; whispered, “So, have you.”
Something in the darkness was breaking.
Was it him?
Or was it—
Seori’s eyes were kind as she nodded in acknowledgment.
For a moment, Wraith hated that she could be kind. Hated that she’d already lost a battle she didn’t even know existed, to an enemy who wasn’t an enemy. At least, not to her.
Her voice was still too quiet as she asked, “So what happened next?”
“They did what armies have done to prisoners of war for millennia: put him in a cell. Tried to forget about him.”
She gave Wraith a sly look, “It took him a lot longer than you to start hitting the walls.”
“What can I say, I’m a prodigy.”
The musical laugh again. “I can believe it. It was… distracting. And I got so angry. I’d just spent so much time fixing this damn man and here he was damaging himself again and again.”
“You guys get angry?”
“Oh, you have no idea. We’d been knocking him out to heal him, but eventually I lost my temper. Stormed in and yelled at him for a while. Maybe longer than a while. He stared at me like…”
“Like he’d seen a ghost?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, I used to do that to him.”
“I know.” Her smile was not-quite apologetic. “That’s how it started. It was a long journey from there. Longer still to build trust with the others on the ship. But Elijah’s nothing if not persistent.”
Threads of insight had been twining together as Seori talked. There was something beneath, a greater truth that she could almost grasp.
“Who are you, Seori?”
Seori leaned forward, held out a hand. Wraith hesitated, then took it.
The rush of connection reasserted itself. Not deep, just enough to give weight—to give truth—to words.
And with it, the universe reared up and punched her in the face. Again.
“We’re you, Ash. We’re human.”
Kael slammed back into his body—hard, like the Banshee crash on Perdition. He jolted upright, gasping.
The world spun.
A giant of a man stood over him, dark-skinned, serious, radiating concern.
“You!”
He knew him.
Thought he knew him.
His mind reeled. His body was starting to shake.
Didn’t matter.
“Where is she?”
They were still clasping hands.
Wraith reeling. Seori anchoring.
This wasn’t crossing enemy lines. This was finding out the line had never been real in the first place. It undid the reasons for almost everything she had ever done.
Then something whispered through the bond that felt like Phantom. Along with something else.
Seori smiled at her and squeezed her hand, but Wraith could feel the shadow of her unease.
“Your Golden Boy is awake.”
The murmuring started up again the second they entered the corridor. Wraith hadn’t realized it had stopped.
She lifted a hand, pointed at the ceiling, “They’re not in your head the whole time?”
“That would drive us all mad, don’t you think?”
“It’s already driving me fucking nuts.”
“Here,” Seori stopped and held out a hand again. “Let me help.”
Wraith halted. Blinked.
Why the fuck not?
She took Seori’s hand, felt the woman do… something. It reminded her of pushing away a reach. Refusing the connection.
And the murmurs quieted.
They were still there. Accessible if she looked for them, but otherwise ignorable, like the low roar of engines or the quiet rush of wind.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If you were feeling more… yourself, you wouldn’t have needed me to help at all.”
A crash sounded in the distance, and Phantom’s frustration resonated across Wraith’s consciousness along with a jagged, terrified anger she could only assume was Helios.
Seori sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, her calm cracking just a little as she spoke.
“Oh dear.”