Zyphira was right. He was a waste. He’d fucking failed every last part of his purpose here.
He scoured his skin until the top layer of flesh rubbed away. He wanted it gone. Wanted it all washed away. The brush’s bristles bit into his raw skin and blood clouded the water as he scrubbed, needing to feel it, entranced by the scrape of the bristles, each streak of pain, and the release—
A soft knock on his door halted him.
Vesper dropped the brush, tugged his wet hands through his hair, and rubbed his face, trying to pull himself together before he answered.
Nef stood in the doorway, still covered in Dimitri’s blood.
Hesitance embedded her words. “I don’t really want to be alone.”
“You know you’re welcome anytime.” He moved aside to let her pass.
Nef stepped into the cottage and padded to the table before she perched herself on the ledge. She pinched the crusty fabric of her tunic and stared down at the blood, seemingly entranced by it.
Vesper retrieved a clean shirt and some soft trousers that would drown her. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said.
She took the clothes from him, laid them in her lap, but then just stared numbly at her hands. And she sat there. Unmoving.
“Nef?” He said her name in a reach for her without touch.
She didn’t look up. Her hands began to shake. His eyes widened as he watched her, unsure what to do. He’d been on the other side of grief but had never known how to comfort people. The only time he felt as if he did alright was with Emmery, and even that had been a shot in the dark.
Then her bottom lip quivered and her face crumpled. A sob wracked her body, and her shoulders slumped as her face fell into her hands.
He crossed the room and gently removed them. “Hey. Look at me,” he said softly.
She lifted her puffy eyes to his.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. Everything else can wait,” he said, echoing Briar’s words from when he’d been broken and bleeding those months ago.
A taut silence passed, but she lifted her tunic over her head and tossed it aside.
Vesper kept his gaze on the floor as he retrieved a damp cloth and a small bucket of water. Beginning with her hands, he wiped away the dirt and blood. Then he moved to her face. Carefully, he untied the bandana she’d covered her blood oath with and tenderly washed the scar too, wishing he could remove it entirely.
As he wiped the grit from her cheek, she asked, “Are you going back?”
He took a jagged breath. “There’s nothing left for me here. I need to get back to Ellynne. I need to—” His throat bobbed with a swallow. “I need to make surethatdoesn’t happen again. That nothing like it happens again.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“They were all Hollow, Nef. They were clearly targeted.” He dipped the cloth back in the water and gently stroked it down her cheek. “Things need to change and … I can’t wait for someone else to do it. I got my answers with Izzy and the prophecy. And I—” He sighed. “I need to move on. Thorrin and Kyrith will keep looking for the cure. I will, too, but I need to go home.”
Nef’s fingers found the hem of his tunic. She fiddled with it. Then in a tiny, broken voice, she said, “I don’t want you to go.”
He gave her a small smile and swiped the cloth under her chin. “You won’t even notice I’m gone. I’ll visit when I can.”
But the thought of her not being here when he returned plagued him. And he couldn’t fucking do anything about it. Maybe it would be the same when Castle Dusk was taken. He would have nowhere to go.
“I’ll miss you,” she murmured. The words sank into his chest, beneath his battered ribs.
Her fingers dipped under his tunic and traced the skin above his trousers. He shivered and clenched his jaw, focussed solely on cleaning her up and not on the fact she sat on his kitchen table, only a tiny scrap of fabric binding her breasts. Nor on her fingers wandering to the button on his trousers.
He sucked air between his teeth and shut his eyes. Because she had just been through something. They all had.
And she mourned Dimitri, her life, and her dwindling health.
“Ves?” she hummed his name.