The Last Spell 47.1

The most secluded part of the ship was also the tightest.

Leilan kept his eyes on the doorknob, which was only a few feet away from his face when he was sitting against the wall like this, legs folded up to his chest. The only reason he wouldn’t call this room a closet was because it had a means to open from the inside— maybe that made it an over-glorified pantry. He didn’t know, or care. All that mattered was that it was quiet, there was a light on, and there was enough space for him to fit.

His hand was wrapped around the small conch pendant he normally wore around his neck. Today, the chain dangled loosely from his fingers, and the shell dug into his palm. It was so fragile. He had to wonder how it had survived all these years since it’d been offered to him as a child, back when he was too young to understand how breakable some things were. It’d outlived his first family easily. Gwen and Ray Hawking, too. And now Marius.

If only there were something he could break that would bring them all back.

The doorknob started to turn from the outside, and Leilan blinked, watching it move without reaction. He hadn’t been here that long, had he? He’d just needed a minute away from responsibility. Only a minute.

When the door opened, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt when he saw Shane. His friend, however, seemed relieved.

“You were in the last place I looked,” Shane said, squeezing in and closing the door behind him. “I was getting worried.”

Leilan sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He didn’t know if he had the energy to stand.

“I’ll help,” he said anyway. “What’s the problem?”

“What?” Shane frowned, confused as he sat down and turned his head to him, before his expression softened. “No— Leilan, I’m not dragging you away for anything. The others are managing fine. I’m here for you.”

Oh. Leilan’s thoughts, already a slow crawl, came to a stop. Oh.

A few seconds passed without him finding anything to say. Shane looked around the room, suddenly uncertain.

“I mean— unless you don’t want me here,” he said hastily, a tinge of alarm in his voice. “I should’ve—”

“No. No, you can stay.” Leilan took a deep breath, waving a hand around the small room. “I’d like you to. I just…”

Saints, his case was hopeless.

“Didn’t expect this,” he finished lamely.

“Didn’t expect me to want to be there for you?” Shane’s tone was stunned.

Guilt pricked at Leilan again. How was he to admit it?

“Maybe,” he said. “Not because you don’t care or something. Because I don’t really deserve it.”

He knew Shane didn’t understand, by the way his brow furrowed.

“Why not?” Shane asked gently.

“I’ve been a terrible friend.” Leilan felt his voice catch in his throat. “I wasn’t there for you when you needed it most— I never even noticed just how dark things were for you, how close I was to losing you entirely. I was too busy with my work, serving a cause that I only half-believed in then and don’t at all anymore. And now you’re here, when I’ve done nothing to earn it, when I didn’t do the same for you.”

He’d thought seeing Shane’s outburst after surviving the magic poisoning was a shock to his system, the realization he needed to have about how wrecked he would be if he lost a friend. He’d been wrong. What he’d imagined then was nothing like the searing ache of a person-shaped love with nowhere to go that he felt now. Leilan didn’t know if he had the strength to mourn Marius. He knew he couldn’t have mourned Shane, too.

Shane was silent for a few moments. Leilan bowed his head, unsure if he could make it through this conversation without getting physically sick.

“That’s not something you earn, Leilan,” Shane said quietly at last. “It comes with being my friend.”

“And what if I don’t deserve that either?” Leilan’s eyes pricked with tears.

“Leilan, every moment of knowing you has been an honor.” Shane’s voice shook. “Don’t say this. It’s not your fault I couldn’t get help.”

“I was supposed to be your help.” Leilan shuddered. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice that you needed it— I don’t know how I was that blind. Was there a time I almost lost you and didn’t even know it?”

“Leilan, you don’t need—”

“Was there?” He couldn’t ask it above a whisper.

He wished he hadn’t picked this moment to look back at Shane, to see his shoulders sink as he stared ahead with distress gleaming in his eyes. Leilan had thought himself lucky that he didn’t know heartbreak, at least by the way other people described it. The feeling was a stranger no more.

“There was… one time.” Shane’s lips barely moved, his voice hardly audible even in the silence of the small room. “Where I actually entertained the idea, beyond a wishful thought.”

Leilan’s throat closed up.

“It was in the last few days leading up to graduation, just before I’d have to leave for the House, before I’d have to become Heir. I knew it was the last time my life would actually be mine. I was in the process of moving out, but there… there were still knives in the kitchen. I remember picking one of them up, weighing it in my hand. I remember thinking about it.”

The point of the conch shell could’ve been a blade in Leilan’s hand too, from the pain of it jabbing into his palm. It was nothing compared to these words.

“I didn’t do anything with it.” Shane took a deep breath. “I called you instead.”

Leilan blinked. His chest was still too tight for him to feel like he could breathe, but somehow, he managed to speak again.

“I don’t remember answering a call at that time,” he murmured.

“You didn’t.” Shane shook his head. “It went to voicemail. I heard that recording of you apologizing that you weren’t around, promising you’d get back to me soon— and I chose to believe you. I still believe you. By the time you called me back, the urge had passed.”

If it was even possible, Leilan felt sicker with himself. He wanted to object. He wanted to tell Shane that his faith in him had been misplaced, that he’d failed to be there when it mattered, that he’d never really lived up to that promise.

But he couldn’t dismiss that faith, even if he didn’t agree with it, because it was the reason his friend was alive.

Suddenly feeling weak, Leilan let himself slump a little, leaning in Shane’s direction. Shane caught him in a side hug, pulling him closer like that space was meant for him.

“Thank you for being strong,” Leilan whispered. He made no move to prevent the first tears from sliding down his cheeks. “I couldn’t do this twice.”

He felt Shane shudder as his friend moved to let Leilan’s head rest on his shoulder.

“I don’t feel very strong right now,” Shane admitted quietly.

“Neither do I.”

Was anyone on this boat holding themselves together well? He had a feeling the answer was no.

“You were a good friend to Marius as well,” Shane said softly, after a moment. “Until the very end. I know he wouldn’t want you thinking you had something that needed to be forgiven.”

Leilan wanted to deny that, too, but his voice wouldn’t let him. He swallowed thickly.

“He could’ve been spared,” he murmured. “All it would’ve taken was a moment of mercy.”

A shot to the hand or arm would’ve allowed the astronaut— Mireya’s friend, though he couldn’t remember the name she’d said at the pier— to escape just as well as a fatal wound. If he was a fighter, he would’ve had to know that. It didn’t matter whether it was to leave one fewer witness, a general disregard for human life, or whatever Mireya thought he’d done it for. He’d chosen to kill Marius.

“It wasn’t necessary,” Shane said, and the pain in his voice was louder than the words themselves. “But from what you said, it sounded like he didn’t regret it.”

“Well, I want the astronaut to regret it.” Leilan didn’t realize what he’d said until he’d heard himself. The words had escaped through slightly clenched teeth.

Shane nodded slightly. “You’re not the only one. I’m sure you’ll get your help from Kaja. Cyrin, too.”

Cyrin. A distracted buzz of thoughts cut through the heavy haze of grief in Leilan’s mind. Despite seeing him face to face last night, he still had to remind himself that the sadness from hearing his name was outdated.

“Cyrin,” Leilan started carefully. “Is it really true that he…”

He didn’t know how to finish the question, but judging by Shane’s grimace and sharp nod, he didn’t need to.

“Mireya told me,” Leilan said, feeling his heart clench painfully again. “I couldn’t quite believe her.”

“Yeah,” Shane muttered. “They both knew. Supposedly, Cyrin meant to tell me earlier than this.”

“I’m sorry,” Leilan said quietly. “I know the two of you were…”

Fond of each other? Getting close? On your way to friendship? He didn’t know what to call it, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he should say it right now.

Shane huffed. “Bonding?” When Leilan nodded slightly, he sighed. “Maybe we were. But it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Only if you don’t want it to,” Leilan said. “Which… I would fully understand.”

“I don’t think it’s about whether I want that or not.” Shane shook his head. “I think that’s just… how it’s going to be. I can barely look him in the eye, and talking to him feels like I’m swallowing poison. The only way in which it does appear to matter is that I can’t seem to hate him.”

“Do you want to hate him?”

“It’d be the easiest way forward.”

Leilan hummed, more in understanding than agreement. It did sound easier. But he knew Shane, and he knew his heart, and he knew neither lent themselves to hatred well.

“It’d also be less complicated if they hadn’t saved my life,” Shane added, a little quieter.

“I’m glad they did,” Leilan said firmly.

Shane was silent for a few seconds, and Leilan wasn’t sure what he’d say, if he’d agree or wish the opposite. But before he could say anything— if he was going to say anything— the door creaked open again.

It was Kaja.