Lord of the Night

Chapter 39: Doubts

Despite the guilt and confusion still roiling in my gut, I quickly succumbed to the exhaustion of the day. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. By the time I awoke, sunlight seeped through the edges of the tent flap, fuzzy beams that dappled the sand and mattress.

I instinctively sought out Isalio. When I didn't immediately see him, panic constricted my lungs. Had he slipped out during the night? Was he lying outside the tent, cold and lifeless, with a rubber-tipped arrow protruding from his chest?

Then my gaze landed on the body tucked up against the side of the tent in the fetal position. In the dim morning light, his skin looked extra pale, contrasted by the black locks falling limp across his forehead. His chest expanded and deflated with tiny, uneven breaths, and the longest strands of his hair fluttered with each exhale. With his arms still wrapped tight over his chest and his knees drawn up almost high enough to touch his arms, he appeared smaller than ever. So weak, so cold. So vulnerable.

Before I could stop myself, I strode over and crouched beside him. "Isalio?"

His eyelashes fluttered a little, and his arms pulled even tighter over his chest. My chest pinched. Just the night before, my father had reminded me of the unforgettable, unforgivable fact: this was the monster who killed my family. But seeing him like this, I couldn't help wondering if he was as much a victim of all of this as I was.

"Hey." I brushed the hair out of his face, noting the chill when my finger grazed his brow. "Are you awake?"

His hands covered his eyes, shielding his face from my view. "Mmm."

The cuffs dwarfed his slender wrists, too large and clunky. If Fraschkit had not taken the keys, I would not have been able to resist uncuffing him, if just for a moment. But if that plasticky rash marked his skin like it had back at the rebel base, would I have been able to put the cuffs back on?

I laid a hand over both of his and guided them away from his face, gently enough that he could easily resist if he so chose. He provided no resistance, but he still didn't open his eyes. When his hands reached his chest, I paused a moment, my warm skin still touching his cold skin. I wanted to envelop his hands in mine and rub the warmth back into them, but I too clearly remembered my father's disgust and Isalio's own reaction. 'Are you trying to hold my hand?'

My hand fell back to my side. I opened my mouth to ask if he was ok, but then I stopped. Of course he wasn't ok. I had rescued him from a torture chamber only to imprison him with four blocker cuffs in a camp of his enemies. "Are you ready to talk about the trial?"

A gust of breath escaped his nose—almost a laugh, if not for the bitter twist of his lips. "What is there to talk about?"

"They'll want to know why you..." Why you killed so many, including my family. Why you summoned a monster still wreaking havoc across the land. "Why you did what you did. I know it won't be easy to talk about, but the Guardians need to know what happened to you in the palace. And why you've decided to help us now."

As I was saying it, I wondered if he had actually decided to help us, or if I had put the words in his mouth and refused to accept a rebuttal. He had told me himself that he hated Guardians, and the reception he had received last night could only have reinforced that hatred.

I was equally unsure about what exactly had happened to him in the palace. Dark images haunted my imagination, but how could I know the truth of it all, much less persuade other Guardians of it?

He shook his head, and the strands of hair I had brushed aside fell back over his forehead. "I have nothing to say."

With a sigh, I sank back to sit on the sand, legs bent in front of me. "Tell me more about the Morgabeast, at least. How do you control it? And what happens if..." If you die, I meant to say, but my throat constricted around the words. I swallowed and restarted. "The Guardians need to know that the Morgabeast would be even more dangerous if you weren't controlling it."