16. Kavian

"Sleep easy now."

I set her down gently on the bed, feeling a slight struggle as her weight unnaturally works against me. She should not be a challenge for me, but carrying her this far has felt unnatural.

I am strong, but contorting my back through winding passages and up flights of stairs while she snored in my arms has not been easy.

A candle flickers, casting deep shadows against the bedroom walls. In some fantastic world, perhaps I'm a shadow, enveloping her with a black, wispy blanket while water drips into the cavern around us.

Sometimes, I wonder if that's how she sees me—if I'm a strange monster who's lured her further into a dark and unfamiliar world.

We have a dangerous task ahead of us.

I turn away from her sleeping form, then pause to turn back toward it. Outside, a light rain has started, droplets forming on my bedroom window.

She could have easily left the tavern without blinking an eye, abandoning all concepts of revenge. Maybe she would not have had peace of mind from watching women like her suffer in silence, but at least she would be safe.

At least she could have a chance at rebuilding a life in peace.

But instead, she chose me, settling on an uncertain path that could lead to her demise. Had she taken my merciful offer and run far away from the tavern, her mission would have been finished.

My heart thumps a bit louder at that. She chose me above her freedom. She chose me, above everything else.

I'm left deep in contemplation.

As I clothe her, lifting her arms and legs up while bringing fabric over her exposed form, I take in the deep lull of her feeble human breathing, every moment a comfort. The bed she rests upon is tempting, her every curve and dip still enticing. I could easily imagine myself ending my day here, falling asleep next to her, and returning to a realm of dreams.

But we can't stay in that world forever. We can't delude ourselves.

I remember how in the courtyard, she felt so relieved by our tryst that she fell asleep as we made our way back. And I carried her all the way here. I could have stared at her forever and delayed bringing her up the long winding staircase.

That would have been pretty fucking great.

But I knew that eventually, we would have to return to our roles. And the longer I delayed that inevitability, the more painful returning to that world was going to become. We each have our own roles to play, and though those roles might coincide in this one instance, we couldn't be more different.

How much has she struggled to get here, just able to sleep peacefully? How much has she fought to find food, battling oppressive captors and shifting, unpredictable fates? Following the journey she's taken just in the past several weeks is a dizzying headache even for me.

I might trivialize the whims and fragility of these humans. But I could not for a moment imagine living in her place prior to this. I have been very lucky to lead the life I lead.

And my freeing her doesn't change how she fits into this world. She is a slave, whether free or not. She can't simply forget her past.

My hand is on the doorknob, hesitating to turn it.

Her interests will always lie with that world, contained to its interests. And I will remain in my realm, fighting against the interests of adversaries like Gorran who cheapen my continent by simply existing on it.

But you're growing soft.

If Gorran were to discover what you're doing now and move in for a kill, would you honestly be able to protect her?

Would you even be able to protect yourself?

I feel my feet naturally pulling me away from this calm room, where her breathing reminds me of an alternative that both counters and opposes my ambitions. With a gentle tug, I pull open the door.

I don't want to leave her.

I don't want to accept that this might have been a temporary event in a much more complicated relationship. What happens after we both get what we want and Gorran is obliterated, his business dealings in tatters, and his fleeting legacy spread to the winds?

You're deluding yourself.

She's only into you because you have power over her—because she lacks that power. It's not anything more than that.

Even though I've removed her chains, she doesn't walk freely among these streets as a demon would. It's possible that she never really will.

They will look at her and see an opportunity, whether in New Solas or Ikoth. She's not an equal—she's an exploitable resource, meant for breeding and labor. To the xaphans, who held up their noses at what they used to be, and to demons like me, who are vexed by humans, Meera is little more than a body.

So I know the power I have over her. I know that my kind has an advantage she lacks—that demons roam freely where humans fear to tread. And I know that as long as that power exists, I can never know whether she values me or the power I offer her.

But what is this power she has over me?

My feet carry me down the long and empty hallway, past suits of armor and fraying tapestries, knowing that I need to focus on my plans. I know that I need to mentally prepare myself for everything that lies ahead of us. We've found a lynchpin in our plan, but it could be little more than a small break.

Outside, a gentle storm rages. I can hear the slight bellow of thunder in the distance.

How soon before we run into another dead end?

How soon before we're compromised?

One or both of us could easily be apprehended for what we're doing, if we're not simply cut down for our hubris.

I shake my head at the thought.

"Of course, I won't let that happen," I say to myself. "Why am I worrying so much? Gorran's an imbecile."

The wind outside screams like a rattled spirit, threatening to pull me downward.

But there's something painful in the thought of her absence—in the thought of losing her forever.

Why do I ache for her, longing to be by her side even now? Part of me wants to return to the simplicity of before.

When I was inside her, all the complexity erased itself, and the only thing remaining was the physical bond binding us together.

Even now, I'm thinking of how I'd love to pick her up, fucking her while I give her a better tour of the mansion. The idea is so ridiculous, it makes me chuckle.

I can't suppress this feeling.

I try to remember every contour of her body. I wish I'd done more to commit her to memory.

She's in the other room, mere feet away from me, and yet I'm longing to be with her, despite knowing that I can't and shouldn't be.

I can't let myself get distracted. Maybe what we did was a one-time thing.

That's what I remind myself as I pace my study, quietly closing the door to the hallway containing my bedroom. Outside, the rain pelts the windows now. I know that it will pass, and thank the realms for this moisture, but all these storms seem ominous.

"A one-time thing."

The words fill me with pain. Part of me feels like I'm saying these words to punish myself, and that part of me doesn't want to be restrained.

If I shut my eyes, I imagine I can still hear her breathing, even through these walls. In this large mansion that's normally so lonely and empty, it's a comfort.

For too long, I've toiled under the weight of my schemes to the company of an empty home. Perhaps the longer and the more I worked, the more I felt my sanity slipping away from me.

But whether I like it or not, I have obligations far greater than the interests of a fling—of a pathetic human.

I lift the weight on my desk, feeling its balance in my palm.

My wants and obligations threaten to tear me in half, leaving nothing. I'm of two minds, but I have only one body.

There may come a time when I will have to choose between Meera and Gorran.

What happens after Gorran's gone, and we have no more obligations binding us? At that point, what could possibly unite us?

I laugh to myself, finding a seat as I watch the ethereal red glow of a dying storm. The raindrops tonight vaguely resemble blood.

Never once did I imagine that my loneliness would have any conclusion. And although I'm ruminating on how badly this is going to end, I can't deny that it's a bit miraculous.

My reasons for staying out of real relationships have been numerous. Typically, I've been too busy, not tied to the interests of Ikoth, but to my own impossible ambitions. So far, those ambitions have all been intangible, unrealized, and dull to most. So the idea of settling down felt like a farfetched fantasy.

It still does. As the rain pelts my window, falling off the black arches, I wonder if it will be her blood or mine that spills. If we don't end Gorran, I'm pretty sure he's going to fuck us over.

Surprising myself, I reach forward, opening the window. The moisture spills inside, soaking old parchment on my desk.

But the wind is refreshing. For a moment, it settles my mind.

I'll mop it up in a bit.

These are tangible things, worth little more than their sentimental value. It's almost freeing, watching the rain drip onto the wooden desk.

Gorran is going to either die or fall into ruin. And with Meera's help, I'm going to be the one to end him.

Maybe I can't let her distract me. But I'm not going to deny myself either.

We're going to break Gorran's slave trade together. After that, I don't know what will happen. I can't plan for it.

And maybe part of that is liberating.