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Bodhi is walking—well, more like limping—across the courtyard in Aretia when he hears Violet’s voice. It’s raised, as if she’s angry—or possibly afraid. His hackles immediately raised, he starts towards the sound, because he’d never let anything happen to Violet, but then he stops. Flinches. Was that his name he’d just heard?
“Xaden, listen to me!” the youngest Sorrengail’s voice carries on the wind, almost like Bodhi wasn’t supposed to hear it, but the breeze grabbed the words and plopped them in his lap. “Bodhi is running himself dry for you. You need to do something about it!” Bodhi scoffs from his place around the corner, unsure what to make of Violet’s claims. Should he be flattered that she’s looking out for him, or insulted that she thinks he needs a break?
“Violence, I don’t have time to babysit my cousin. If he needs a break, I trust him to tell me.” Bodhi can hear the distracted glaze over Xaden’s tone, as if he’s only half-listening, too caught up in whatever he was doing before Violet interrupted him.
“Look at me, Xaden!” Violet demands, and Bodhi almost chuckles to himself. He’d called it. But then he remembers that they’re talking about him, and he doesn’t feel so amused anymore. “He’s still limping after that sprain from a month ago. He should be better now but he’s not, because he jumped right back into everything too soon and you let him!”
Bodhi can hear Xaden’s sigh of frustration all the way from his hiding spot, and he knows that if Violet was anyone else, they’d need to start running away two seconds ago. But it’s Violet, and Xaden is different with Violet. Softer with her. Softer than he ever was, even with his own cousin. Bodhi shifts uncomfortably when he thinks that, feeling a slight sting of betrayal that he doesn’t want to examine too closely for fear of getting stuck in a comparison trap.
“If I talk to him, will you be satisfied?” Xaden finally asks.
“If you truly will talk to him, then yes. But it has to be an honest-to-goodness, real conversation, Xaden,” Violet says, and Bodhi hears Xaden agree. He’s not sure how to feel about it at first, but then he hears the unmistakable sound of smacking lips and pivots on his heel, hurrying back in the direction he came from. He isn’t sure when Xaden will attempt this conversation, but Bodhi is certain it will be soon, because his cousin will definitely want to get it over with as soon as possible. Bodhi isn’t worried, though. He’s important to the war effort—every rider is, but Bodhi in particular is Xaden’s right hand man. They’re outnumbered already, so Xaden’ll take anyone he can get. The worst that could happen is Xaden reprimanding Bodhi, sending him to Brennan to get Mended, and then moving on with his day. Chances are he’s too busy to even do that, and he’ll just talk with Bodhi long enough to satisfy his conscience before running back to whatever duties he has.
When Xaden knocks on Bodhi’s door that evening, Bodhi’s in a slightly better mood. He sparred with Garrick for the first time in weeks, an immediate dopamine release, followed by the best scalloped potatoes as the side for dinner. It’s been a good day. In fact, he’s almost forgotten about Violet and Xaden’s conversation until his cousin knocks on his door. Still, he’s not worried.
Not until the first thing Xaden says is, “I’m grounding you from any physical activity or combat training for a week.”
Bodhi’s jaw drops to the fucking floor. Xaden sees the look on his face and winces, but doesn’t rescind the statement. It takes Bodhi a minute to form words before a cacophony of outraged noise splutters from his lips.
“What the fuck, Xaden? Grounded? You can’t do that! You fucking need me!” Xaden winces again, a bit more overtly, and counters,
“Actually, Bodhi, I can do that. I’m in charge. And I’m telling you that you need a break. Do whatever shit you want, I don’t care. But it can’t be active. You need to let that limp heal. If it’s still there by next week, you’ll be grounded for longer.”
“Brennan cleared me, don’t you remember?” Bodhi huffs.
“Yeah, well, it’s also wartime. He’s a bit more lenient on recovery times.” Xaden shrugs, already turning as if to walk out the door. Bodhi doesn’t know how to change Xaden’s mind. In fact, he knows deep down that he can’t. When Xaden makes up his mind, he’s stubborn as a mule. But he tries one last time.
“Xaden, you need me! I’m your right hand man!” Xaden just glances over his shoulder at his cousin once more before sighing,
“Not this week. That’s Garrick’s job this week.” Bodhi recoils as if punched, but Xaden doesn’t seem to notice. He just strides out, not even acknowledging the fact that grounding Bodhi wasn’t even his idea. Bodhi is reeling, in shock that Xaden would do such a drastic thing without discussing it first. Without a decent explanation. Just…out of nowhere. Benching Bodhi.
Replacing you, don’t you mean? the nasty little voices in Bodhi’s head croon. The ones that only come out when things get particularly dark. The ones that started showing up after Bodhi lost his mom. After the rebellion.
“No. He’s not replacing me,” Bodhi hisses aloud, trying to convince himself that he’s right. “He’s not.” The nasty little voices just giggle and cackle. Cuir is silent at the end of their bond, and Bodhi tries to rationalize with himself that his dragon is just sleeping, but there’s a kernel of doubt in his mind. What if Cuir is ashamed of him for getting grounded? What if she’s ignoring him?
“Damn it!” Bodhi spits, punching his pillow with a shaking fist. He’s spiraling; overthinking, and he knows it, but whenever this happens, he spars, and now he isn’t allowed to do that, either. Bodhi thinks about going to find Garrick; asking him to help change Xaden’s mind, but in the end, he decides against it. Infighting is the last thing the marked ones need right now, and besides, what if Garrick is on Xaden’s side? Bodhi shudders at the thought. What if he’s more alone than he thought? Does everyone think he’s so incapable?
After pacing the length of his chambers for a half hour, Bodhi’s leg starts to truly protest the strain. Sighing, he grabs the role of healer’s tape from his bedside table; the stuff that Violet brought him when he first got injured. Told him it always helped her. He hasn’t tried it yet, and he’s honestly not sure how Violet wraps her knees, but after a few tries, he thinks he’s done a close enough job. At least, it supports his knee joint pretty well, and it hurts a bit less to put pressure on. That’s a win for Bodhi.
His sleep that night is fitful, full of nightmares that scream of uselessness and replacement and a lot of fucking pain. Bodhi wakes up in a cold sweat several times, tossing and turning for what feels like days before he falls back into another fitful dream.
He wakes up the next morning feeling half-dead, groaning when the light from his window shines directly in his bleary eyes. For a moment, he panics, wondering if he’s overslept, since usually, the formation leaders meet before the sun rises to go over logistics. Then he remembers the events of the day before and shoves his head under his pillow again, letting out an angry growl at the actions of his cousin. Pulling rank? Really?
What the hell is he supposed to do all day?
“Rest,” Garrick supplies when Bodhi bugs him later, moping about in boredom. “It’ll be good for you.” Bodhi scowls at that.
“Does everyone think I’m an invalid or something?”
“No,” Garrick laughs. “But I think the people who know you best do agree that you could use some rest.”
“I don’t need a whole fucking week of rest,” Bodhi grumbles. “I’m more stressed just sitting around than I am when I’m useful.”
“Hey, you’re still useful, Bodhi,” Garrick frowns.
“I’m just sitting around,” Bodhi shoots back, “How is that useful?”
“You can’t give us your best if you’re burning out,” Garrick shrugs. Before Bodhi can open his mouth, Garrick tacks on, “And by burning out, I mean emotionally and mentally. Completely unrelated to your signet.” Bodhi huffs and turns away.
“I’m leaving.”
“Suit yourself!” Garrick calls after him.
Imogen doesn’t give Bodhi any helpful ideas either, simply snorting and telling him to “get his shit together and learn to think for himself.” Bodhi knows he should probably be offended by that statement, but he’s so used to hearing that sort of thing from Imogen that it doesn’t faze him anymore.
It’s only when Bodhi sees Violet that he truly feels his emotions come crashing down. He doesn’t want to be angry at her, but he is. He can’t help it. Xaden wouldn’t have grounded him if not for Violet. Bodhi knows if he doesn’t approach her, he’ll be able to keep his anger in, so he continues on his way, hoping she won’t see him. Luck isn’t on his side, though, because after only a few seconds, he hears,
“Bodhi!” The musical tone of Violet’s voice is unique, easy to pick out from all the other cadets roaming Riorson House. Bodhi turns to her, a pasted-on smile affixed firmly on his face.
“Hey, Violet,” he mumbles, attempting (and failing) to seem normal.
“Why are you fake-smiling at me?” Violet laughs. Damn her observational skills. They only come out when it’s least helpful for Bodhi.
“Um,” Bodhi supplies before shrugging helplessly. Violet doesn’t seem to care that he hasn’t responded, instead barrelling ahead.
“Hey, I heard that you’re taking a week to rest. That’s good!”
Bodhi thinks that he might have been able to keep it in before that, but the second those two sentences leave Violet’s mouth, it’s over for Bodhi. He can’t hold the anger in.
“And whose fault is that?” he growls, hands curling into fists at his side. He tries to keep the more raw side of his anger at bay, because Violet’s never seen him angry before. She’s only seen the good sides of Bodhi. And it shows in the hurt, confused look in her eyes.
“I—what are you talking about?” Bodhi knows he’s digging himself into a hole, but he can’t help it. He hisses,
“You know what I’m talking about. The only reason I’m grounded is because you told Xaden that it was a good idea!”
Realization dawns on Violet’s face, her mouth forming an ‘o’ as one hand twirls the end of her braid nervously.
“You heard that, huh?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. So why the hell would you do that to me?” Bodhi demands, taking a step closer to Violet before realizing how intimidating he looks and shuffling backwards a few steps.
“Because I really do think you need this break!” The words burst out of Violet’s mouth as if they’re a deadly secret, but Bodhi just scoffs.
“Yeah, well, I’ve heard that already today. My question is why? No one seems to be able to answer that question for me.” It takes Violet a few moments to respond, but when she does, her words worm their way into Bodhi’s cracked heart.
“I’m afraid that you’re forgetting who Bodhi is. Outside of his roles as cousin of Xaden, co-leader of the Rebellion, and reluctant heir to Tyrrendor.” Bodhi stumbles back a few steps.
“Why do you think I’m forgetting that?”
“Because whenever I see you, you’re playing the role of Xaden’s right hand man. Which is okay, but…not if it’s your identity.” Bodhi stares at the silver-haired woman for a few moments with an unreadable expression, so she forges onward. “Bodhi, you’re not a weapon. You’re more than Xaden’s right hand man.”
Bodhi can see the look of shock on Violet’s face when he crumples to the floor, tears pricking at his eyelids as he bats them with his hands. He doesn’t want to cry in front of her—he was just as shocked at his body’s response to her words as she was. But it’s too late, because the tears are flowing, and Bodhi can’t stop them.
“Bodhi,” Violet says, worried. “Bodhi, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” Bodhi waves his hand, cutting her off.
“Don’t—don’t apologize. You’re…right,” he admits while tears start to flow down his cheeks. “I’m not…I don’t know how to be anyone but Xaden’s right hand, even if that means I don’t know how to be Bodhi Durran. I don’t have the blueprint for Bodhi Durran. It’s too hard…too hard to build someone from scratch. Much easier to just build on a foundation already laid. If I’m not a weapon, I’m just another orphan the war didn’t chew up fast enough.”
“Maybe…Maybe it’s time to try and build your own blueprint,” Violet whispers before falling silent again.
After a few moments, Violet wraps Bodhi in a tight hug, and Bodhi breaks down, crying into her shoulder as the stress of the last weeks—months—years—lifetime crashes down around him. His knee twinges from the awkward position he’d fallen in, and his shift of discomfort doesn’t go unnoticed by Violet. She takes his knee and gently rewraps it with the ease of someone who has done this a million times before. Bodhi cries a bit more at the utter kindness of it all.
Bodhi Durran is not sure how to be anything other than a weapon. But he’s got at least a week to start figuring it out.