Strange New Eyes

Chapter Twenty-Two - Confession

Enrick. The sound of his voice sent emotions crashing through Aysel; anger, hurt, longing all swirled around inside of her, mingling with the numbness that was threatening to overtake her mind. She fought it off. She wanted to be awake to tell him just how much she hated him.

But all that came out was a mumbled, whispered "Nnn..."

"Shh, Aysel," he whispered. "I've got you. I've got you."

But she didn't want him to have her! She didn't want him, the person who had lied to her, the person who had tried to kill her, the person who promised to save her brother but let him die, near any part of her. She could feel the pressure of his hands around her as he hoisted her off of the snowy, bloody ground. She wished he would drop her. She wished he would drop dead.

Instead, he started talking. "Aysel, can you hear me? Oh, stars, I fucked up. I fucked everything up."

Yes, you did, she wanted to tell him, but it was all she could do to keep from slipping under the layer of blackness tugging at her mind.

"But I promise I'm going to make things right," he said, his voice almost begging. "I'm going to help you. Stars, your leg looks bad, Ay, I'm not gonna lie, but I'm going to get you help."

His promise and the sound of her old nickname sent rage bubbling through her veins, rage which doubled when she realized she couldn't move her arms. Her blade may have fallen into the snow where her attacker had dropped it, but she would have strangled him with her bare hands if she could have.

She didn't care that he had saved her. She didn't care that he was currently whispering promises in her ear as he carried her through the silent battlefield. All she cared about was the people his actions had killed.

And with the image of Elkin's hollowed, unmoving face burning in her mind, she lost her hold on consciousness and fell into a starless sleep.

...

She awoke to a world of dull pain and firelight. Smoke stung her eyes when she opened them, smoke that seemed to be coming the sky itself; it was dark and choked with gray clouds with orange underbellies as the fire illuminated them. She sat up to try to find the source and a shot of pain raced up her right leg.

"Ah!" she cried, clutching at her knee.

"Hey, hey, just slow down," purred a voice that sent all of her anger that had been lost in sleep rushing back to her. "You've had a rough-- ah!"

Aysel screamed too; the force of her leap at him jarred her leg, but it didn't stop her from wrapping her hands around his neck.

His yellow eyes widened as she pressed down. "Ay-- wait--" he choked.

She pushed down on his windpipe. Images of her brother's body and red smoke pulsed in front of her eyes.

Enrick's hands tugged weakly at hers. She could feel his racing heartbeat in his throat, as wild and panicked as hers was. It was as if she held his life in her hands.

And then it hit her: she had killed before, but never like this. There was no knife or spear in his hands. Enrick was helpless on the ground beneath her. His eyes watered; his body twitched. And though her brother's face stayed in her mind, she let go.

It was what Elkin would have wanted.

On the ground, Enrick wheezed in a breath. Aysel did too, when she felt the pain in her leg that her anger had temporarily chased away. It was duller now than it had been before, but it still felt like something was ripping her flesh apart. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was sure would be a grisly sight, then looked down. Instead of the mangled flesh she was expecting, she was met with a clean herb-soaked cloth wrapping her knee. She looked towards Enrick.