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“I don’t like this.” Inzar frowned, rolling the small brass cord decoration between his huge fingers as he looked around the enclosed garden. The walls were high, the foliage thick; it was a perfect place to be unseen and undisturbed. “He wanted her completely alone.”
“I know.”
The bench they were sat on was wrapped around an old, twisting tree, whose branches leant over and brushed the ground with round, reddish leaves, keeping them relatively hidden from the moon gate just opposite. Ilira sighed and pressed her back against the bumpy bark, frowning deeply.
“How many times did she just… agree to being in a place like this with him? How many times did she get hurt because she decided to be too fucking trusting? She should have told me.”
He shrugged, leaning back as well. “She probably didn’t want to worry us.”
“Well now I’m more worried than I would have been if she had just said it in the first place. Some bitch of a Nerazim coming here and deciding to take whatever the fuck he likes because he thinks he’s better than us? Making her cry, bruising her?” She shook, clenching her fists in rage. “I thought we were over such low-rate manipulation tactics, we’re not on Slayn, for fuck sake!”
“Ilira—”
He could hear the counting just underneath her next sentence, her tactic for calming herself down as she spoke. “She thinks she can handle everything by herself when she can’t. She can’t keep doing shit like this alone.”
“Look, we all worry about her, but you… She won’t break at the next gust of wind, ya know? I don’t understand what gets into you when it comes to her; she’s been through just as much and she’s alive. From what I know, she’s kept herself alive for a lot longer than you’ve known her.”
“I don’t care. Inzar, she— She looks like my mother, ok?” Ilira snapped again, shooting him a harsh glare before finally softening a little. “She looks like her and she talks like her, and I’ll be damned if I have to see her keep getting hurt. I don’t care what she’s been through, and I don’t care that I wasn’t there for most of it; it’s enough, and I’m fucking here now.”
Almost immediately, Inzar moved close, gently resting his hand against her shoulder. “You never mentioned this. Does she know?”
“No. Nobody does. Uljia blocked all that out, and I wouldn’t tell Ri’kara. She’s already in that whole fucking mess with Alarak and that Ascendant bastard she works for because she wanted to achieve my goal, imagine what she’d try to do if she found out I’d been looking at her like a stand-in for my dead parent.”
“Getting this mad about something that isn’t her fault won’t help things, though, no matter what she looks like.”
She shrugged him off suddenly. “Can we talk about this later? I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He nodded, backing off and rubbing his face. “… Fine. Are we really gonna do it this way?”
“Yeah. There’s no way he was just fucking with her. We’d be doing this shitty planet a favour.”
“… I don’t like that either.”
“I know, but she let it get to this point… I let it get to this point.”
“You didn’t—”
The one-eyed Tal’darim continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “I remember noticing her bruises, but she told me that she had just fallen… I believed her. I let myself believe her.”
“Look, I did too, but we’re doing something about it now; no sense in dwelling on ‘what-ifs’. Channel your energy into our plan, yeah?”
“I can’t fucking believe she told them, though.” She gestured to the Purifier hiding in the shadow of the wall close by, who had been idly listening to the conversation the whole time. “They didn’t want to do anything; did you know that? I’m glad I dragged you out of your hole, you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass.”
Anur moved their head as though rolling eyes that weren’t there, lights and displays pulsing as they spoke back to her in Ri’kara’s voice. They kept it almost at a whisper so they could not be heard.
“I am here now, am I not? I had no interest in interfering, and she gave me no reason to.”
“He was hurting her.”
“She insisted she could handle it. As your friend has pointed out, she has survived this long without you, and so I believed her. If she has asked for help now it is because it is needed now.”
“Isn’t she your friend?! She saved you.”
They shrugged. “She is an acquaintance. The only reason I have been ‘dragged out of my hole’ is because I owe her that debt. After this, I will consider it repaid.”
“Whatever.”
All three of them became still suddenly as they heard footsteps down the narrow pathway. Inzar gestured to the Purifier.
“Anur. Go.”
They nodded, crouching down among the bushes to be better hidden from sight. “Ialdir…? I thought we were meeting here this time, is he late?”
It was jarring how they could emulate even her speech patterns on top of the exact cadence and quality of her voice. The only tell was the slight metallic edge to the synthesiser, something that their prey didn’t seem to catch as he let out a long sigh just before he came into view.
“Impatient today are we, Riri? I hope that means you have an answer for me.”
The special nickname that Inzar had given his little friend lilted in the smooth, saccharine voice of someone he knew was terrorising her flickered a rare moment of anger in Inzar’s chest. He felt Ilira tense with the same rage beside him, and they both watched as he stepped through the moon gate and stopped.
He was fairly short, only a head or two taller than Ri’kara, deep green eyes narrowing over his veil that swayed slightly as he tilted his head. Even behind the leaves, he could see them.
“You.”
His companion subtly nudged him. “He knows us.”
“He knew my nickname; probably followed her around a lot.” Inzar gestured to him. “Ialdir was it? A pleasure.”
“… Where is Ri’kara?”
“She’ll be here soon. She got caught up with some work; asked us to come and tell you. You know how busy she can be sometimes.”
It was difficult for the first time in a long time for the hulking Tal’darim to smile, to speak in his usual, warm tone. He stood from the bench and stepped forward, resisting the urge to glance behind him at Anur, who blocked the exit with their body in case he decided to bolt.
“I heard her voice. Where is she?”
The Purifier spoke up again, putting a mocking edged to Ri’kara’s synthesised sound. “She is not here. You have us instead.”
Ialdir jumped slightly, head whipping around as he finally realised that he was surrounded.
Before he could properly react to that realisation, Inzar strode forward, wrapping his tree-trunk arms around him and lifting him. He yelled, struggled against his grip even as his limbs were trapped against his sides. He kicked his legs, and Anur immediately grabbed hold of them, locking them in their own grip with the hiss and whirr of their mechanisms.
“What are you doing?! Let go of me! Help!”
“You picked a real secluded place here.” Ilira sneered, readying her knife in case he somehow managed to slip out of Inzar’s arms. “I doubt anyone’s going to hear you if you keep yelling like that, especially at this time of day.”
“She’ll never forgive you if you hurt me!”
“She has made peace with that, I should think.” Anur kept that mocking tone.
“Don’t pretend to know her! You know nothing. She loves me; she was going to accept my offer tonight—”
Inzar cut him off with a squeeze just tight enough to hurt, letting go with one arm to hold that brass ring up to the Nerazim’s face.
“Can’t love you all that much if his answer is no, huh?”
“Fuck you.”
Another squeeze. His captive struggled again, groaning a little with the pain the pressure was no doubt causing him.
Part of him didn’t want to have to take the route that Ilira had chosen, hoped that maybe the Nerazim would be smart enough to take the threat seriously and leave, never to be seen again. The other, more jaded part of him, shrivelled with time, knew better. But he had to take the chance.
“I like to think I’m a nice guy, Ialdir, so I’m gonna make you an offer. Are you listening?”
“An offer?! You lure me here and attack me and you want to make me an offer?!”
“I could just kill you.” He made sure to keep his tone matter of fact, shrugging and holding him tighter. “You and I both know I could snap you in half like a twig right now. I imagine you don’t really want that outcome, so, I let go of you, yeah? You take this clasp, and you leave. You don’t even look in Ri’kara’s direction again. If you’re smart, I won’t have to kill you.”
“As if I’d take that offer. A big soft dolt like you? You don’t have the spine to kill me. Besides, why are you even bothering with someone she cares about instead of interrogating that Tal’darim she’s following around all the time. I’ll bet that is where she is right now, isn’t it? Fooling around with him.”
Ilira froze beside him, her eyes narrowing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Inwardly, Inzar winced. “Ilira—”
Ialdir sneered, taking the mile that he had just been given. “Are you that dense? The only reason she is getting the three of you to refuse me is because she is with him. As if they just work together; he is likely helping himself to her right now, and you want to kill me?”
Inzar glanced at Ilira, watched her flounder as doubt bloomed in the pause. He knew she had been worried about who Ri’kara was working with for a while, but this was too ridiculous for her to believe, surely? They both knew she wasn’t like that at all.
“You wonder why she isn’t around you all that often anymore? She’s always with him, not just right now. He’s making sure every bit of her time is spent on him, so she’ll become dependent, easy. I’ve seen how he looks at her; like a starving animal looks at meat.”
“Don’t get caught up in that shit. He’s a slimeball; he’ll say anything to get us to let him off the hook.”
She finally looked up at him, the frown across her face a mixture of concern and disgust. “… I’m not. I know he’s lying.”
“So let me go!” The Nerazim snapped impatiently. “You’re wasting time with me when you could be saving her from someone that hurts her! I can help you—”
He squeezed again, a sickening snap cutting off his desperate bargaining with a yelp of pain.
“Shut up. The only one that was ever fucking hurting her here is you. I don’t want to hear another word of your filth.”
His shoulders were heaving a little, and he tried to fight against his grip again. “If she wasn’t so willing to fall into the arms of whoever gave her the right look, I wouldn’t have to accuse her of anything.” He twitched his head towards Ilira. “That one knows I’m right; she’ll fall into anyone’s trap.”
“I said shut up.”
Another cracked rib, a soft cry of pain. It only seemed to make him more vicious, lashing out like a wounded animal.
“Go on, ask her next time. Ask her how many times she’s let him take advantage; she’s certainly eager for it. I don’t know why I ever bothered, the bitch isn’t worth going to the trouble—”
Ilira drove her knife straight between his eyes before he could fully get the words out. The psionic blade sizzled through flesh and bone, leaving a smouldering hole as she pulled back.
Part of him, an old, vicious part, dearly wished she could have used a regular knife, wished that they could leave him out there covered in stab wounds as a warning like they would have done on Slayn, but they didn’t have the luxury here; too messy, and it wasn’t as though anyone here would know what it meant.
The fact that he didn’t feel bad for thinking it frightened him.
He let go of the corpse, allowing it to drop against the grass at his feet with a thud. Anur let go of his legs afterwards, stepping back.
Blood, delayed by the initial stabbing, began to pour down his face, into his dull, dead eyes, blooming across the fabric of his veil. They all watched in silence for a moment or two.
“I get that you were trying to get him to give up, but… I didn’t want to hear anymore. You can…” Ilira looked at his face, a tiny bit of guilt in her eye. “You can bury him if you want.”
“I knew he wouldn’t take that offer. It’s for the best anyway.”
She was shaking slightly, gaze flicking down to her knife as she watched the blade retract before she clipped it back on her belt.
“Hey. You didn’t think any of that was true, did you?”
Her head snapped up again. The pause was long, uncomfortable.
“No.”
Inzar hated that he didn’t believe her.
Gently, he laced one of Ialdir’s cords through the decoration. “I guess I will bury him.”
“Under the tree.” Anur chimed in. “It is less likely to be dug up than the flower beds. Especially as this section is the next on the maintenance roster.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
They all froze at the sound of the new voice. Ilira’s knife was out again in a second, her body immediately tensed up to fight. Dread sat in Inzar’s chest. They shouldn’t have been followed out here—
Three Nerazim melted into view from the shadows of the foliage, the smoky remnants of their shift out of the void rolling across the grass. They held their hands up to show that they were, at least right then, not holding weapons.
“We’d prefer to bury him ourselves if that’s all the same to you.”
“Who are you?” Inzar spoke gently, holding up his own hands as he watched them eye him up cautiously; his size always made him the perceived threat, no matter if his companion was the one holding the weapon.
They were all wearing rich purple fabric adorned with patterns of brass and deep green crystals. Two had Zerg skulls on one of their pauldrons, the other, the one who seemed to have spoken, had other teeth and bones hanging from her belt. She stood in front of the other two, and was tall, almost as tall as him, her bright green eyes sharp over a pristine veil.
He didn’t know Nerazim rank or status, but just from the way they held themselves, Inzar instinctively knew they were important.
They looked between each other, and then the sharp-eyed one spoke again.
“You don’t know us, but we know you; we’ve been following this one for a while.” She pointed to the corpse. “We’re just here to clean up the mess and give him proper funerary rites. You won’t hear from us again.”
They wasted no time, gesturing for the three to step away from the body. They did as they were told; what else could they do?
Ilira looked bewildered, knife still clutched tightly in her hand. “Did that ambassador send you or what? How are you not here to arrest us?”
“We were asked on his behalf; they knew how you would plan on dealing with the threat to your friend. Besides, we’re not just going to let you bury one of ours anywhere. There are customs to adhere to.”
She scoffed. “As if he deserves them.”
The Nerazim gave her a wry smile. “That isn’t for us to decide. No matter what, the dead deserve a proper passage. He can be judged when he arrives at his destination.”
“So you know?”
“Yep.” One of the others chimed in. “And after this, you won’t speak of any of it. It didn’t happen, you did not see us, and you can go on your way.”
“I told ‘Kara I’d let her know when it was done, at least.”
“She will be told.”
They wrapped Ialdir up in a faded purple shroud, lifting him between them and giving the three one last look.
“I suggest you leave.” The leader said, and then, in puff of rolling smoke, they were all gone.
Relief washed over Inzar, every tensed muscle in his body relaxing at once. For a few brief moments, he had realised exactly what he had got himself into; this wasn’t Slayn. What would have happened to his kids had he been caught for murder? They didn’t do things the same on Aiur.
“By the void, I thought we were fucked.”
“… Me too.” Ilira put her knife away again. “If they’d been following him, why didn’t they interfere?”
“I mean, if they were asked by him, likely he’d get into trouble himself if he were to get himself too involved, so… I doubt the Highlord would want his ambassador to be going around killing whoever. It’s not like he’d give a shit about Riri enough to be involved at all.”
“Ugh, so we did his dirty work. Great.”
“We’re not going to get into any shit for it, so that’s fine by me, ya know? It helped Riri. That’s what matters.”
She nodded, sighing softly.
Anur shrugged. “Well, it seems we will not be seeing each other again. I can only hope.” They scoffed. “I can finally turn off this synthesiser.”
Inzar gestured to them, offering a small smile. “Thank you for helping, Anur.”
They gave another shrug, sauntering off out of the moon gate and out of view.
“I’ll call ‘Kara.”
“You heard what they said—”
“I want her to hear it from us, ok?” She pulled out the little communication screen she carried with her and activated it.
“Out with it.” Alarak had been watching her for a while, narrowed eyes under a slight frown as she had paced back and forth across the sunset-drenched room. He had let out a long sigh just before he spoke; it had obviously been annoying him for a while.
Ri’kara didn’t stop, didn’t quite manage to look at him as she mustered up her courage to speak about what she had been agonising over. “I’m stepping down.”
“… What?”
“You heard me.”
“I did, Ri’kara, though perhaps the better question would be ‘why’?”
“You don’t need to ask me that, you know why.” She gestured at nothing, finally stopping her pacing to glare at him. “All this… Look what I’ve had to make them do! Look at what I risked! I can’t do this—"
Alarak waved a hand dismissively, cutting her off. “I refuse to entertain your little spiral into self-pity. I will not allow you to step down for no reason.”
“I just told you the reason—”
“Enough. At every turn you act as though you are a hinderance by virtue of existing. It is exhausting and I will not waste my time with it, just as I refuse to waste time with finding a replacement; if you do not wish to be an inconvenience, put this idea out of your mind.”
Frustration boiled in her chest, bubbling up as more tears spilled down her cheeks. She thought he would have agreed immediately, thought that he would have seen how useless she was.
He looked her over and, surprisingly, he softened, rolling his eyes.
“Ugh. Would you like me to admit that I care? That perhaps I would prefer if you did not have to spend the rest of your existence as miserable as I gather you must have been before you arrived here?” He rolled his eyes so hard his head moved with them and gestured to the seat beside him on the sofa. “Sit. Your pacing is irritating.”
She stopped walking, but didn’t bother to do as she was told, instead scowling out at the view below and trying not to let herself keep crying.
“I should be dealing with this myself, at the very least. Why won’t you just let me go?”
Alarak let out a sound akin to a snort. “How do you intend on dealing with it, Ri’kara?”
“I don’t know! I wouldn’t kill him—”
“Of course not. As though you would even be capable of such a thing.”
Ri’kara glared towards him again, insulted. He wasn’t even looking at her, continuing to nonchalantly pick though the stack of parchment he had brought over from his desk.
“I’ve killed before.”
“I am sure you have.”
She stomped her foot in frustration at the amused sarcasm dripping from his words. “I have, actually! The only reason I managed to escape at all was because I murdered my overseer! If I hadn’t, then I’d probably still have been stuck there playing to his whims! Or I’d be dead!”
“And yet you would not kill this Nerazim. How ironic that you do not see the parallel.” He sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand. “If you do not allow your friends to take action as they see fit, then you will be stuck here on Aiur playing to the whims of another.”
She couldn’t help but let out a short growl, rubbing her face with both hands. He was right, but she hated it, hated that she couldn’t stop someone else dying because of her, hated that she had let it come to this.
“Sit.”
“Fuck off.”
He shot her a slight glare. “I will only excuse that once, Ri’kara. Sit. Must I remind you whose chamber you are in?”
The tone in his voice was just sharp enough that she did as she was told, tucking herself up as far away from him as possible. She felt horrible and small and stupid, and his refusal to agree or feed into it was getting on her nerves, even if in the back of her mind she knew she was being ridiculous. She wanted the old Highlord back, just for a moment.
Of course he was right. She would have been miserable, unable to do anything other than be glued to Ialdir’s side while he did whatever he wanted with her until he got bored, except this time there wouldn’t be a ship to escape with, wouldn’t be a knife at his belt that she could take and—
Urach’s lifeless face flashed in her mind, and she finally broke down, burying her face in her knees and sobbing.
“Why did it have to happen again?”
She stayed there like that for a few long minutes, just crying into the silence, making ugly psionic hiccups and little whimpers in-between. It wasn’t until a few moments later that there was the shuffle of fabric, the seat sinking to the side as he put his weight back down, and a cautious pat against her back. He said nothing.
“… I didn’t want anyone to worry. I didn’t want him to go after anyone else. I thought I could handle him—”
“You and I both know that someone like that never has just one.”
More guilt bubbled to the surface, racking her shoulders with harder sobs. For a short while, he let her cry, large hand awkwardly rubbing her back as he sighed.
“It will be dealt with now. I doubt you could have withstood a year more of such treatment.”
“… I don’t know why you’re not angry at me.”
“Tch. I was. Your foolish insistence that I was to tell nobody, and that I could not interfere directly, was maddening.”
“But you’re not angry about everything else?”
“What else is there, hm?” He rolled his eyes so hard his head moved with them. “Would you enjoy it if I were? Would you enjoy someone pinning all the blame on you as though you were the reason he ‘became’ a controlling, violent leech?”
“… No.”
“Good. At least you have some sense.” Then, he sighed again; “I will agree that letting it go on for this long was a severe miscalculation.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. He… ramped up after I was attacked. At first I thought it was just because he was so worried about me, but…” Suddenly, something clicked into place, a puzzle piece that she hadn’t even known existed before, confirming the fears she had way back when Ialdir had snapped at her after the party. “But once we became friends and spent more time together, he got worse…”
She laced her shaking hands together, staring at a spot on the table in front of them. “Before he got into that gathering years ago, I thought the idea that he was following me was ridiculous. I got paranoid then, I started watching my back more, making sure I could just be somewhere private—”
“Which explains your strange behaviour around the ship.”
“… Yeah.”
“He was following you. That I can confirm.”
“How would you know that?”
“As if I would be so oblivious to a stalker, Ri’kara.”
“I guess not… But I just thought… Would you have believed me? Would you—” She jabbed a finger at him. “Highlord of the Tal’darim, who has probably never felt like prey in his whole life, have believed a paranoid phase-smith who regularly jumps at her own shadow? Based on nothing but a gut feeling?”
Alarak tilted his head, eyes flicking back and forth between hers as if searching for something in them. She could practically hear the cogs turning in his brain.
“… Yes. It may come as a surprise to you, but I happen to trust your judgement. I am sure those friends of yours would have as well.”
She couldn’t think of anything else to say. There was nothing she could say that would make her feel better. It was stupid of her. If she had told someone, she would have been believed, just like with Urach. Every time she crawled to their little meeting spot on Slayn without ever telling Ilira or Uljia who gave her the gaping wounds across her back and thighs as they tended to them, they might have had a chance to save her instead of…
“It wouldn’t have mattered. Saying something makes me weak. Ilira always treats me like I’m some sort of youngling anyway but telling her would have made her so much worse, so overprotective that I doubt she would have let me out of her sight. And I keep proving her right. I keep getting preyed upon just because I’m a runt who is used to being pushed around, and it makes my friends think I always need to be protected and now someone else has to be killed for it. At least with Urach, I did it myself instead of letting everyone else do my dirty work like some sort of coward.”
Her companion let out a wry chuckle, once again putting a hand on her back.
“That is a sentiment I can understand.”
She blinked. “What?”
The Highlord just shook his head. “Take your own advice. If I must hear you constantly encourage me to ask for aid, constantly remind me that it is not weakness despite my clear sentiments to the contrary, then you will hear the same from me.”
“Fine.”
He made a small, approving sound, settling back a little in his seat. She watched him, watched his eyes start to run across the surface of the parchment he had in his lap.
“Though it does beg the question.”
“Hm?”
“Why are you so adamant in your refusal to kill? You have done so already; you clearly think that you should again. I hardly believe abstaining now would reset whatever rigid morality system you have elected to serve under.” He shrugged. “We are Tal’darim, not Templar.”
Embarrassment washed over her, and she shrugged. “I hadn’t killed anyone before him. Somehow.”
“Hmph. They did not give you your first?”
“I stopped growing while I was still in the temples. They didn’t bother when I came of age.”
“And at no point did you feel the need to defend yourself after the fact?” His brow raised, tone incredulous. “Come now; how are you even alive?”
“I had to defend myself, sure, but nobody expects the runt to be able to break a bone, so I just had to do that and they’d leave me alone. I didn’t want to kill anyone; I was one of the ones they sent in to save the others, so I didn’t see the point in undoing my hard work.”
Ri’kara rubbed her face, trying to push the thoughts of severed limbs and mangled corpses out of her mind. “I’d seen enough death. I didn’t want to do it myself until…”
“Your overseer?” Alarak prompted.
She nodded. “I think he’d chosen me to become his favourite. You can guess what that entailed.”
“All too well.”
The disgusted tone in his voice gave her pause, but she knew better than to pursue it right then, instead continuing with her explanation.
“He kept me relatively safe, but he was prone to taking his anger out on me and then showering me with affection afterwards. I knew it was wrong, but being in his orbit at least meant that I wasn’t put in danger all the time.
Once the war started, he got worse, and I didn’t have my friends to help me anymore, so I would often have dreams about killing him. Pushing him into the grinder, getting him stuck inside machinery, stabbing him to death in his bedchamber… They terrified me. I terrified me. But it didn’t matter. He cornered me as I was trying to escape and so I grabbed one of his knives and kept stabbing until he stopped moving.
I kept seeing him as I ran. Maybe it was the Terrazine, but I heard… I murdered him. I enjoyed it. I don’t ever want to be that monster again.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then, unexpectedly, Alarak broke it with a chuckle, the sound rolling into a laugh.
“What’s funny?”
“You. The only one of us in this room that could say their killing was necessary and you sit here agonising over it as though you flew into some sort of violent rage and stabbed him for merely looking at you. Ridiculous.”
She blinked. Part of her wanted to feel insulted; it was distressing to her, had been for decades. Urach’s dead, unblinking eye, and her extreme violent outburst that had mirrored her terrifying dreams had been a constant haunt that she didn’t ever want to repeat.
His laughter died down, but his tone still dripped with amusement. “From your description, he deserved everything he was given; I would not have been so merciful. Every moment of his pain would have been savoured.”
“I—”
“Do tell me, then, Ri’kara, why you deserve such mental torture over an insect that should have slipped your mind the moment he stopped moving?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“You don’t. Just as you do not deserve such foolishness for this insect’s punishment.”
Her shoulders sagged, eyes once again welling with tears. For all the reassurances she had been given over the years, this was the first time she felt some relief. It was baffling how his matter of fact, almost cruel mockery of her self-loathing had done something more to her perspective than her friend’s soft platitudes and comfort ever had.
Why did she deserve to be punished? She wouldn’t have blamed Alarak for killing someone if that were the reason he did so. She’s certainly not going to blame her friends for doing the same to Ialdir…
The fact that she had even been stopped in her tracks like that at all almost made her want to strangle him.
“You are so bad at this.” She glared at him, but she couldn’t quite make herself put the force into it she wanted.
He gave her a smug, satisfied look, and then turned his attention back to the parchment. “And yet you agree.”
She did. Not that she felt like admitting it to him while he still had that expression on his face. Carefully, she wiped her eyes, deciding instead to just change the subject; if he stopped being so pleased with himself, she might thank him later.
“Ok, your turn.”
“What?”
“How did you really know Ialdir was following me?”
His eyes narrowed. “I have already clarified that.”
“I don’t think you’re that good. I don’t think you’ve often been around Nerazim, at least not without a detector.”
“Tch; to travel without one would be foolish. I suppose you have been around many then, hm?”
“No. That’s my point. Look, I’m asking for you to be honest, Alarak. There had to be some other way you found out. Did you see him?”
His claw tapped against the metal arm of the sofa beside him, an impatient or perhaps nervous tick, she wasn’t quite sure. Then, he let out that heavy sigh again.
“Our bargain stipulated that I did not interfere directly. As such, I spoke with the Matriarch; she has had her own guards keep track of this little situation. He followed you often, sought you out. It has been a blessing that we kept our conversations private for this little ruse of ours.”
Ri’kara leant forward, rubbing her face in both hands and making a little frustrated growl. “… I should have known you’d find a loophole.”
“I did as we agreed.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” She shot him a glare, but the anger that she thought she would be feeling was more like a sputter of irritation; she couldn’t deny that she felt better knowing that she had proof of what she had thought were paranoid delusions, that he had taken her seriously enough to find a way to help even if it went against their promise.
“… She has also volunteered to sweep your friends’ plan under the rug. It will be as if nothing happened.”
“What?”
“It was her suggestion; she knew what they would conclude needed to happen.”
“I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.” Putting her head against her knees briefly, she made another little growl before straightening and gesturing to her decoration looped through his cord. “Clearly we need to update the rules.”
“As you wish.”
The atmosphere felt lighter. She couldn’t help but shuffle a bit closer, crossing her legs on her seat beside him and facing him. “I want you to promise to be honest with me.”
He snorted. “Is that all?”
“Well, after you decided to bend your first one with the way that you decided to word things, I’d say it’s a pretty big request. Just because you didn’t lie doesn’t mean it’s honesty, Alarak.”
The Highlord rolled his eyes but again softened after a moment or two of tapping his claws again. “Fine. I promise.”
Ri’kara blinked. She hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Maybe an argument, maybe a back and forth, maybe a way that he could once again dodge out of it—
“I maintain that it was necessary in that case, however.”
“Yeah, yeah. Your turn.”
A moment of silence. He looked her over and then shook his head. “Speak up next time.”
“… There won’t be a next time.”
“Then I expect you to speak up the moment something troubles you instead of wasting my time and allowing it to fester. I do not wish to repeat this nonsense, Ri’kara.”
She sighed but nodded. “Alright, I promise.”
“Good. I will listen, even if I find whatever you bring to my attention ridiculous.”
“I guess that’s all I can ask for.”
“Not that I find you to be wrong often. That is irritating in itself.”
She couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at that, settling into the seat properly and playing with her fingers.
“Thank you.”
Alarak tilted his head, one brow raising.
“… For that. And for earlier. Not that you’ve fixed anything; I still feel pretty terrible but… I do agree. I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I had thought of it like that in the first place.”
Inwardly, she winced as she glanced at him, waiting for the smug smirk, waiting for the gloating. Instead, he patted her arm; he seemed to be getting more comfortable with contact, at least when it came to her. He punctuated it with a surprisingly soft smile.
“I am pleased I could help you begin to come to your senses.”
Ri’kara nodded, giving him a little smile of her own.
After a short while of comfortable silence, watching as the sun completely disappeared and the crystal lights began to flicker on, Ri’kara’s screen lit up from where it was sat on the low table in front of them. She froze for just a moment before standing, taking it and moving to a part of Alarak’s room that he couldn’t be seen from.
Ilira’s face, still as stormy as it had been when they had last spoke, appeared. “Ri’kara.”
Her hearts sank at the sound of her full name. “… Ilira. I’m so sorry, I—”
She held up a hand, quickly glancing around herself at something unseen from the image feed. “Where are you?”
“Um…” She glanced to the side. “My room.”
“Are you with anyone?”
“No, I’m not. Why?”
“Alright. It’s taken care of. At least that ambassador of yours is useful for something.” Then, she sighed. “Tell me this won’t happen again. I have half a mind to somehow get your guard switched out—”
“This isn’t Verinis’ fault, Ilira, you know this. Don’t you remember how surprised they were when I told you all? It’s mine for not saying anything sooner.” Inwardly, the little Tal’darim winced. She knew that this would be the reaction, and the idea of Ilira suddenly being the one to shadow her every move… They’d never be able to keep up their cover. She’d never be able to be alone with him. “They really aren’t to blame.”
“Riri, we know, it’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong either.” Inzar came into view, his expression oddly neutral in a way that set her on edge. “It’s over now. Just… Please. Tell us. You have that gut feeling? I promise we’ll believe you. We want to make sure you’re safe, ya know?”
She teared up at the sound of his voice. “I know… I am sorry that this had to happen. I’m sorry it got to this point.”
He nodded, giving her a sad, half-hearted smile that made her chest ache; she had never seen him quite like that before.
“Go home, Inzar. The kids will want to know where you are.”
“Alright.”
Before he could duck out of view, Ri’kara waved. “I’ll come over tomorrow. I doubt the Hierarch or the ambassador would mind if I took a day to myself.”
That smile finally lifted into something less melancholy, and he nodded. “I’d like that. It’s been a while.” Then, he was gone.
“… Ri’kara?” Ilira centred herself a little more, the scowl becoming more of a concerned frown as she glanced back as though making sure that they were fully alone. “I have to ask…”
“What?”
“You and that Slayn Tal’darim, I…” She looked to the side, her one eye focusing on something in the far distance as she hesitated to speak.
Dread crawled down Ri’kara’s spine, and she felt Alarak suddenly freeze where he was seated behind her. The idea that his real identity had been found out passed back and forth between them like a psionic tennis ball. She didn’t dare press her.
“He is just someone you work with, right?”
She frowned, resisting the urge to look at her companion as she felt his gaze bore into her from across the room, his confusion as palpable as her own.
“Yes? Why?”
“Ialdir, before we… He implied that the both of you were… You know…” She trailed off, but her implication sparked a sudden flair of anger and indignation.
“Of course he did. Why the fuck would you believe him?!” Ri’kara couldn’t help but snap. “He was jealous that I even had friends! He knew you didn’t like the job I’m doing, I made the mistake of telling him so, and of course he’d try to use that to slander me.”
“I didn’t believe what he was saying.”
“Then why ask?”
“I had to be sure; you know me. I know he’d been following you, so I wondered if there was something that he was just twisting—”
“There is nothing like that happening! It’s part of my duties to take the ambassador on walks, to keep him acclimated to Aiur, to allow him rest.” His decoration hanging from her cord felt like it was burning through the wiry strand, drawing so much attention to itself that she had to resist the urge to cover it up. Even just their friendship suddenly felt like evidence against her words. “Ialdir exaggerated so much to make me feel guilty and cheap. I can’t take that from you as well, Ilira, you’re supposed to be my sister—”
“I’m not fucking trying to accuse you of anything.” She growled, closing her good eye briefly. “Look… I’ve seen the new cord thing. I know you’ve been trying to go on dates with these Protoss that Uljia’s picked out, and I wondered who’s it was. It’s not any of theirs, so… Is it his?”
Ri’kara tried not to glance over at Alarak. His gaze was once again fixed on her; she could feel it, could feel the embarrassment that it drew up from her gut as she tried to keep her crest from flushing lilac.
He shouldn’t have found out about that. Fuck.
“No. He’s a friend, that’s all.”
For a moment, silence hung over them. Ilira looked expectant, as though the little Tal’darim would elaborate on exactly who the band really belonged to. When she got nothing of the sort, she sighed, regret passing across her scarred face.
“Ok. I’ll… I’ll talk to you soon, ‘Kara.”
The display shut off, and tears immediately began to well in her eyes as she threw the screen across the room. Humiliation burned across her crest and face, guilt tightening her chest as she pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead and began to sob all over again.
She expected the slander, expected the crass accusations, but the fact that such claims had made Ilira question her at all… She clutched Alarak’s cord decoration and shook. They were already too close for her denial to be entirely truthful, and though Ialdir had exaggerated it all, implied that they had done far more than just spent time together…
There was another shuffle of fabric, heavy footsteps coming closer from behind her. She could have sworn Alarak was deliberately making them louder so that he didn’t startle her when he put a hand against her shoulder. Still, she recoiled at the contact, stepping back sharply and turning on her heel to face him.
“Don’t touch me!”
He froze, eyes narrowing as that hand hung in the air. He said nothing, didn’t move, waiting for her to explain her sudden outburst.
“You heard what she was saying! I shouldn’t even be in here; we shouldn’t be alone—”
“As though the conspiracy theories of an obsessive would-be suitor should prevent you from being my ally, Ri’kara.” His eyes rolled as he relaxed. “You act as though you lied to her about our relationship.”
“I…” The little Tal’darim turned the band round and round her cord, fingers brushing against the square cut gem. “I know I didn’t.”
“Then what is the harm in friends being alone? What is the harm in my attempt at providing comfort?”
A little frustrated, she growled slightly. “You and I both know I might not have lied, but—”
“I do not care for your pedantry. It was not a lie; that is all.”
Ri’kara froze just a little, eyes flickering back and forth, looking at nothing. Of course he knew. He knew there was something hovering just on the periphery of what she wished she could just call a friendship.
But just like with the way he used his wording to find the grey area before, he was wriggling into that in-between space where, while it was true they had done nothing untoward, and would not ever, it was still a lie to say that there was no reason to suspect at all. He was fine with that, even if it meant lying without lying to everyone else.
She stepped forward slightly both arms half-opened as she hesitated. If he was offering comfort, well… he was right. What was the harm?
Another step forward, acting on impulse, she buried her face against his abdomen, clinging to his robes and sinking into their softness and warmth. They smelled, somehow, of the dry, dusty air of Slayn, despite how long he had been on Aiur for this stay. Stranger still was that she found it comforting. She let herself cry again, more just to release all the emotions of the day than anything else, even as he stayed stock still, hands held up and away from her as though she were infectious.
After a few moments, though, he relaxed just slightly, letting them lower to gingerly rub her back. When he spoke, he sounded oddly gruff, as though he were possibly flustered by the contact.
“There is no need for tears, Ri’kara; you have wept enough already.”
“I know, I’m sorry I was mean to you, I’m sorry I got so angry about my wrist and you finding out, and—”
“As though you need to apologise. It was irritating at the time, but I suppose I can understand the irrational behaviour in the face of such a situation.” His arms ended up naturally resting around her, though loose and unsure. “As though I have not behaved in such a manner.”
“… As if you didn’t get angry at me for wanting to call a healer. Twice.”
“This would even that little score.”
She kept her face hidden, nuzzled it against the fabric, a little scared about what his expression might be, a little scared that if she moved even slightly, he would let go. Not that his awkward patting was doing much. She giggled a bit.
“You’re not good at this.”
He scoffed incredulously and began to laugh. “You forget that we Tal’darim reserve what little comfort we give to younglings. Of course my ability to comfort you is subpar.” Then, he shrugged. “Besides, you have already gathered that I simply fail to see what there could be to cry over.”
“I got embarrassed, and I cry when I’m embarrassed or frustrated.” Ri’kara pulled back finally, wiping her eyes. “I couldn’t believe she was even considering it. And then she had to talk about… The other things. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“As though it is my business what you do with your free time.”
His tone was similar to when he jabbed about Ialdir when they were on the ship. Her eyes widened slightly. More shame washed over her.
“I’ve been trying to see if I can feel anything for another, that’s all.”
“… I thought you had experienced infatuation before. You told me you had.”
Oh. She’d forgotten about that. She thought it would be fine to reveal to make him feel better at the time, but then again, she hadn’t counted on him finding out about the other stuff.
“It’s… Complicated. Yes, I am experiencing infatuation, but I wanted to see if it worked for anyone else or if I’m set on just… this one. It’s just an experiment.”
Alarak shrugged. “I don’t care.”
He wasn’t good at lying. Ri’kara played with her fingers. Why would he lie about it, though? Of course he wouldn’t care. What am I missing?
She felt an odd need to reassure him, not that she quite knew why. “It’s not like it’s worked yet. I’m still set on him.” She laughed a bit. “… It’s late, anyway. I should go now that it’s dealt with. Thank you.”
His shoulders seemed to relax a little, and he nodded. “Rest. See me after your visit tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have asked—”
“You are not needed. I happen to enjoy your company, despite the incessant weeping on this particular occasion.”
Her face broke out into a smile unbidden, and she nodded, bowing her head. “Alright. Tomorrow then. I could teach you how to play chess. And I won’t cry.”
“Good. I know a little.”
“I’ll teach you more. See you.”
He bowed to her, deeper than he ever had, and went to seat himself back on his sofa. “Tomorrow.”
Ri’kara’s chest felt warm. Even after she’d left his room and linked back up with Verinis to go to her own, she found she couldn’t take the smile off her face. Someone had just been killed for her, and for once she felt barely any remorse, a weight lifting from her shoulders.
I’ve been punished enough.