“You belong wherever we are.”
“No.” She faced me, and the moon lit up the resignation in her dark eyes. “I don’t belong with the warriors. I should have stayed at the human training camp in Mystique Territory, at least for a few months. Or traveled between the larger ones, maybe. Provided aid where I could.”
The words landed like a blow to my chest, my ears hollowing out. “What?”
“Maybe that’s where I should be. I can’t help but feel like I could do more good there then I can with you all.”
“You belong withus, Rina,” I pleaded.
“I don’t.”
“Why would you?—”
“Because I’m just a human!” She stepped back, opened her palms before her as if that would show me the truth. With her deep purple lace gown absorbing the night, she didn’t look likejust a human. She looked powerful. A creature that made the world bow to her whim. “I don’t have warrior blood in my veins, Ophelia. I am not blessed by your Angels or descended from them. I’m a lowly human whose parents didn’t even stand a chance when the first war landed at their door. I only happened to become friends with the Revered of the Mystique Warriors.”
“You’re not some meager being, and our friendship was not by chance, Santorina! You and I are meant to be in each other’s lives—you can’t tell me it doesn’t feel that way.”
How many times had she saved me? When Malakai left, when I kept drinking, when I fell on every bad habit imaginable, Rina never failed to smack much needed sense into me.
Or when her parents died, and she had been so alone, but I stayed at her apartment every night because she couldn’t bear to leave it.
Our friendship was not some happenstance. It was an intention of fate and the Angels. I’d always believed that of each of my friends. My family.
“I love you, Ophelia,” Rina said sadly, “but I’m not a warrior.”
“I don’t give a damn what blood is in your veins!” I pointed back toward the cottage. “None of them do either.”
“By the fucking goddess,Ido!” she growled—the sound barely human at all—and my eyes widened. For a moment we stood there, looking at each other, both panting.
The steadiness of her voice flayed my chest wide open. And with it, a bit of my grounding force slipped away. Spiraled right off into the heavens, tugging the tethers of control I clung to so tenuously.
My voice was small, vulnerable, when I asked, “Are you leaving?”
I wouldn’t stop her if it was what she wanted—needed. But Spirits, would it wreck me to watch one of my best friends walk away.
Rina seemed to hear that pain. Her eyes softened. “No. I can’t leave you all. I would be too worried being away right now.” She framed it as if it was her choice, but a part of me was certain she’d made this decision for me. She took a few steps closer, facing the ocean again and hugging her arms to her chest. “Who would keep you all bandaged and safe?”
I nudged her with my elbow. “See, we need you.”
Santorina breathed a laugh, the tension cracking between us. “It wouldn’t be awful if I did leave. When that monster roared above me tonight, while I may have been stunned, I wasn’t afraid. Ishouldhave been, but instead, I thought of where my dagger was. Calculated how quickly it would take him to leap across the room and where my blow would need to land to meet him.”
I sighed, understanding. “And you want to help other humans feel that strength.”
A bob of her chin had her ponytail swaying. “I wasn’t afraid tonight, but I once would have been. And every human on this continent—on all of Ambrisk—deserves to understand that confidence. What good am I doing if I have a first-hand account of it and am hiding away?”
Leaning my head against her shoulder, I said, “You’re not hiding.”
But the words weren’t only in defense of her, and we both knew it. They were a grapple at absolution for my own guilty conscience after so many weeks stashed away on Ritalia’s orders.
Frustration riled in my chest at it all, but I tampered it for her.
“Once we’re done with this Angelcurse mess, you’re going to help train the most courageous group of humans to ever grace Gallantia.”
“Thank you.” The corners of her lips tipped up. “And thank you for the support, though I know you hate the idea of me leaving.”
“I do hate it,” I grumbled, even though a large part of my heart swelled with pride. “And I hate that you are such a damn morally admirable person that I can’t even talk you out of it.”
Santorina laughed fully at that.
