The Atonement of a Writer

35. Martyr or Cannon Fodder?

"The fire ended, just like that?"

"Yes." Arielle leaned against his shoulder for support. Her voice was hoarse. "Killian..."

The atmosphere immediately sobered as his name was mentioned.

Killian--

Killian was long gone.

Her hand grasped his, and they stayed in that position for a while, fingers cold to the touch. After remaining silent for a moment, she told him, "He...wouldn't want us to be like this."

"You're right." Clovis squeezed her hands. "We still have a lot to do. May I...request your assistance?"

She gave him a weak, watery smile and replied, "Together."

"Always."

~*~

If one were to understand what Killian was feeling right now, they would have to go all the way back to the beginning.

It started with mild jealousy. He watched, again and again, as the two of them walked into their own little world, leaving him staring at their backs. Still, he told himself he would endure it, for their sakes. To his surprise, another entered the fray out of nowhere, but it made no difference to Killian, because he still didn't have her.

Then, it was anger. Two of the soldiers who came along to the expedition were screaming that they saw someone taking Arielle down the cliff late at night. Whilst Clovis yelled out orders for them to move, he pulled the two boys aside and questioned them. After hearing the truth, his hot, blinding anger, mixed with confusion, was not only directed at Julien anymore, but also the two soldiers and Arielle. Putting aside the confusion and suspicion he felt at the princess's involvement, the fact that ran true was that Arielle had deceived them all, and he was furious that he was not as important and trustworthy in her eyes than "an old friend" he had not known about until now.

Were all their years together nothing but a joke to her?

Anger turned into fear and doubt. He tried his best to keep his cool and focused his efforts into saving her. In more than one instance, he doubted his abilities. He doubted her survival. When her heart stopped, his stopped too. When it started beating again, he could feel his own beating in harmony, albeit much more strongly. For two weeks, he feared, and he doubted, even with his father and Jayr, his caladrius, by his side.

His fears and doubts never ceased. They increased with every word Colette spoke, like a knife stabbing him again and again. He did not feel any better when Arielle woke, because she acted the exact same way Colette had predicted. If Colette had the knife, Arielle had twisted it. She did not speak his name the way she used to, barely even looking at him, and after getting what she wanted from him, the next thing that escaped her lips were another's name.

He felt used.

Closing the door to Clovis's study tightly behind him after delivering--no, showing Arielle in, his fists clenched around a well-worn piece of paper. It was the one Colette had given him last night. The paper dug into his skin, calling out to him, even though he was already hyper aware of it. He took it out and read it again, as if he hadn't spent the night staring at it and memorizing every detail of the tantalizing words.

Northmost corner of the library, bottom left shelf. The Empire's Inferno, about the future of you and Arielle.

He knew about that corner. Nobody ever went there, because it was as dark as it was dusty, with huge, thick tomes of historically inaccurate information. Sunlight never reached that corner, and the only reason it existed was because nobody bothered to clear it out. The words in the note turned over his mind again and again as he paced the halls, and before he knew it, he was at the library doors.