The Way We Fall

Chapter 197 (Tigris)

Three months.

That's how long it took for the Faultless City to recover from the war. It would take the kingdom as a whole much longer, but with the city rebuilt, normalcy could begin its return.

Tigris awoke early in the morning, nerves buzzing. Her hand gravitated to her side where only a faint scar remained. Circe's death had healed the damage from Orpheus' sword, leaving nothing but a thin line of raised skin. Sometimes, Tigris caught Roche looking at the mark with a melancholy mix of emotions in her eyes. Some days, her maid would go quiet, her fingers brushing her own side like Tigris' scar was her own.

Tigris' heart ached in sympathy. She was no stranger to loss, but Roche had lost more than many. Tigris was glad that the Ala wouldn't lose her prophesized counterpart either.

On those dark days, when both of their losses were overwhelming, Tigris and Roche would spend a day together in the forest, revelling in each other's quiet company. Roche would sometimes tell her a story, one of the adventures she'd hidden from Tigris and the late king back when her inkblood was a secret. On other days, Tigris would fill the silence herself with stories that had been passed down through her family.

The words, the stories that they both had to share, were so beautiful. Tigris could scarcely believe that her father had spurned them in his grief. Then, she remembered what it was like to almost lose Roche, and her scorching anger would fade, replaced by pity.

This morning, Tigris sat in the quiet peace of an early sunrise. She rolled to the side, peering at Roche's sleeping form. The inkblood's face was as warm as the golden beams of sun filtering through the window. Tigris let her gaze wander, lifting her hand to brush back a few strands of Roche's hair, savouring the warmth of the sunshine that played across her fingers.

The sheets were silken beneath her as she slowly rose, one hand still playing with Roche's hair tenderly. She gazed out towards the beach, towards the wood being laid out there. Her chest squeezed in anticipation. It was such a familiar sight. How many times had she and Roche gone out there to help build pyres for inkbloods on that very beach?

Tigris closed her eyes, trying to push away the heavy memories. When her eyes cracked open again, she noticed two doe brown eyes gazing back up at her.

Roche smiled at her, leaning into the hand that drifted towards her cheek. Tigris silently watched Roche grab her hand and press a kiss to it.

"Wakey wakey, my love," Roche murmured against Tigris palm, her voice gravelly with sleep. Warmth stirred within Tigris. She chuckled softly, gently flicking Roche's cheek.

"I woke up before you, idiot."

Roche yawned, stretching like a cat as she slid out of the blankets. Her nightdress pooled around her knees as she trudged across the floor to the bathroom. "Don't argue. It's far too early. Why are you up at the ass crack of dawn anyways?"

Roche paused in the threshold of the washroom as Tigris swallowed, anxiety knotting her stomach. "You know why," Tigris replied quietly.

Roche's smile flickered. "If you're having doubts-"

"None," Tigris assured her instantly, "I'm just nervous, is all."

Roche smiled, darting into the washroom. The door thudded shut gently. "I don't see why," Roche called through the thin wood, "This is what you were made for, Tigris. If anyone can do this, it's you."

And it was true. This was her duty as queen.

Roche was dressed in her usual gown when she slid out of the washroom. Her hair was as mussed as ever, and her smile as bright as it always had been. She shot Tigris a stern look. "Now, get ready! I have a surprise for you."