The Way We Fall

Chapter 172 (Tigris)

TW: Fighting, descriptions of injury

Her first instinct was to laugh. The thought of Roche wielding ink was absurd. Tigris' lips curled with a struggle. If she didn't have thick chunks of wood embedded in her skin and blood leaking out of various, broken limbs, she would have burst out into laughter.

But Finn didn't retract the statement.

And Roche was pale, trembling like a leaf like Tigris would actually believe him.

Tigris' mirth drained away.

"You're joking," she said flatly, glancing between her brother and maid, "You can't be serious."

Finn lowered his hands, triumph and glee playing across his features. Roche straightened, hoisting her sword.

"Go on, Roche. Show her," Finn mocked.

Roche's jaw clenched in apparent disgust. "You sound ridiculous, Finn," the maid growled with uncharacteristic malice.

"Yeah," Tigris chimed in, trying to move. She bit back a scream as bolts of agony forked up her back. She swallowed the cry and added, "Roche can barely walk straight. Do you really think she has inkblood?"

Finn laughed, long and low. Roche was slowly creeping closer to him, Tigris' sword clutched tightly between her hands. Tigris knew she had to keep Finn distracted. She entertained the insane brother's notion for her sake.

"Oh, how well she's deceived you," Finn crooned, and the sound sent shivers up Tigris' spine. He lifted a hand, gelatinous inkblood pooling in his palm. "Let me show you just how deeply she's managed to fool you."

Roche's eyes widened. She lunged forward, bringing her sword down on Finn's back. The move was clumsy and frantic, something Tigris immediately wanted to correct. Finn anticipated the move, easily sidestepping Roche's charge. He tripped her easily, and the impact made Tigris' sword jolt from her hand.

The blade clattered against the ground with a deafening crash. Roche spluttered, struggling and gasping for air. She tried to buck, to throw off Finn's weight, but he held fast, pinning her to the ground with a knee.

His lips stretched slowly, a rubbery, malicious smile lighting his face up with maniacal glee.

Tigris couldn't move. She couldn't do anything but watch as Finn held his hand in front of Roche face, his pale skin coated in ink. Roche struggled and gasped, her pupils reducing to pinpricks as Finn held the damning inkblood a hairsbreadth from her forehead. The dark liquid dripped down his palm, clinging to his fingertip as a single drop. With a single twitch, it would touch Roche's golden skin.

"Roche!" Tigris screamed, desperation scraping the cavity of her chest. She tried to move, tried to get to her feet, and the world turned dark for a moment. She gasped in pain, but nothing was as agonising as the realisation that she was going to watch the woman who had loyally stood by her side for five years die and be able to do nothing about it.

Strangely, her cry seemed to steady Roche. The maid stilled, her panic fading away. Tigris watched, shocked, as Roche lifted her chin, staring Finn down unflinchingly as he brought the inkblood closer to her face.

"Go on then, Finn," Roche parroted his earlier words, her lips lilting, "I'm not afraid to die. I am loyal to my queen to the death."

Finn's teeth flashed. He leaned closer, his broad chest almost touching Roche's. His free hand cupped her face, tracing the line of her jaw. Roche shuddered under his touch. Tigris watched his lips move above her face, curving with chilling words.

"I know," he breathed, his words making the very air go still, "You'll do anything for her."

Finn straightened suddenly, twisting so quickly that his glasses bounced on the bridge of his nose. His hand whipped forward, and Tigris shouted as Roche's face screwed up, preparing for impact.