“Again,” said Fen.
In again, and out. Her shaking lessened; her tears slowed. The calm from within her spread until she was breathing normally, shoulders slumping in relief. Her cramped, numb fingers began to relax, to move again.
And all the while, Fen never moved away, never let go. He was an anchor, holding her to the earth when all she wanted to do was float away.
She opened her eyes, still wet with hot tears. And with a wave of relief, she found that her vision had finally returned in full. Blinking and wiping her eyes, she looked up and saw Fen for the first time.
Somehow, inexplicably, Fen looked exactly as she had imagined.
The first thing she noticed was his eyes. They were dark gray, like a winter sky before snow, and framed with dark lashes. Unruly black hair fell over his forehead, curling just below his ears. And his features were refined and elegant, yet rough around the edges. A regal nose arched gracefully down to a pair of well-shaped lips, curved in a slight smile. Stubble peppered his angular jaw.
The man that had been living in Ru’s mind’s eye, a made-up version of Fen… it matched him perfectly.
Still collecting herself, distracted and unsettled, Ru’s gaze roved over the man. From cracked, suntanned knuckles to his thick, dark brows. He was dressed in all black, his high shirt collar hung slightly open revealing a hint of finely curling chest hairs.
When her eyes finally caught his gaze, watching her with an expression of bemused interest, she looked away quickly.
“Sorry,” she said. She wiped drying tears from her cheeks, sniffing loudly. Her nose was clogged, and she felt embarrassed to be caught staring. “It’s just that you look exactly the way I thought you would.”
Fen’s smile widened slightly. “I hope that’s not why you’re crying.”
The joke surprised Ru, and she let out a strangled laugh. “Thank you,” she said, pulling herself together. “For…”
He reached out a hand as if to touch her face again, then let it drop. “You were panicking. I’m no stranger to that feeling.”
Ru bit her lip, smiling faintly. Who was this man? Nothing about him was logical, none of him made sense. Only a madman or a criminal would travel through the Shattered City without permission from the regent. Yet he had done it. And he’d come across a naked woman, stumbling and alone, and taken her under his wing, kept her safe, and treated her with respect. And he was no stranger to unfettered fear and panic sweeping the body.
“Are you hungry?” he said, standing abruptly. Not waiting for an answer, he went to where the horse was tethered and began digging around in the saddlebag. The horse, Ru saw, was a dappled gray. Almost like Fen’s eyes.
“I suppose,” Ru replied. She was hungry, but her stomach was churning, and the idea of eating made her feel sick. She turned back to the fire, a heaviness settling over her. Flames licked the air, clean and bright. The wood was bone-dry, and hardly any smoke rose into the clear morning sky as she watched. A hawk wheeled far above.
Woodland rose around them, clusters of aspen and stately birch and poplar. Ferns burst up in rich greens, foxgloves appearing at random intervals in pink and pale purple. This was a relatively new forest, grown from the ashen remains of the trees that had stood here centuries earlier. Further from the epicenter of the Shattered City, old-growth forests stood for millennia, since before recorded history.
Beyond the obvious decimation of surrounding woodlands, there was little proof of anything that had existed near the Shattered City before the Destruction.
The trees above Ru, thin morning sun drifting down through their green-gold leaves, were evidence of rebirth after a far-reaching death. They were a reminder that nature would behave in its mysterious way, no matter how many numbers or algorithms were applied.
Fen sat down across from her, the fire between them, jolting her from her thoughts. He pulled a packet out of his leather doublet. “Sandwich?”
She nodded, knowing it would be rude to refuse, knowing she needed the sustenance.
He tossed the packet to her and pulled another out for himself. “Luckily, I had the foresight to pack multiple sandwiches.”
“Thank you,” said Ru, taking a hesitant nibble. The bread was slightly stale, but the thick slices of bacon and cheese tucked between it were lovely and salty, setting off Ru’s appetite. “And thank you for the clothes,” she said between bites. “Even though they’re huge on me. I feel like a little boy in his father's clothes.”
“Trust me,” said Fen, catching her eye. “You don’t look like a little boy.”
The fire felt too hot all of a sudden, and as Ru crossed her legs tightly, she felt the artifact’s pull — a gentle encouragement. She pushed the feeling back, trying to ignore it.
“That thing you did earlier, with the breathing,” she said, eager to change the subject. “Thank you. I don’t know what happened. I still don’t know what…” she trailed off, terrified that she’d cry again, lose herself to terror if she said anything else. She had never been good with emotions; had always felt off-balance when overcome with strong feelings. Unable to calculate, to process.
Fen glanced down at his sandwich thoughtfully. “It’s something I’ve learned over the years. A little technique that calms the mind and body.”
Ru took a bite of sandwich to avoid speaking for a moment. She was frightened. She had been afraid since the moment she woke up in the crater, blind. And she didn’t want to let it out, to feel the full effects of terror and everything that came with the fractured memory of what had happened. Whenever she thought about that moment, just before the darkness came, just before she touched the artifact… her mind threatened to break down on her.
But she had to know.
“Fen,” she said, her words wavering. “What exactly happened at the crater?”
