Nine - Isabel
I wake up before Arkarian, which is a novelty. It's quite normal for him to fall asleep before me, but he is definitely an early bird, whereas I'm decidedly not. I take a moment to bask in the handsomeness of his face in the early morning light (as provided by an Atlantean version of a sunlamp that lives in the ceiling of his bedroom and works its way overhead throughout the day). Another novelty - for once his expression is one of utter serenity, not a crease or wrinkle to be found between his brows. Arkarian never really talks about his dreams, but I assume that they're usually troubled judging from the amount of frowning he does as he sleeps. This morning however, he looks as calm as he does in his waking hours, with a stray lock of electric blue hair falling across his eyes.
I drape one arm around him and snuggle closer, sneaking a look at my watch as I do so. 5am. Fuck. I've had trouble sleeping since we returned from Athens, and was hoping I would fare better here with Arkarian next to me. Although if I'm being honest with myself I was having problems sleeping in Athens too, ever since my bizarre encounter with Dillon.
Arkarian shuffles around to lie flat on his back, repositioning me so that my head rests on the smooth plane of his right pectoral and I can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, thumping in my ear. I can feel much more, of course. Blood pumps through the arteries of his heart and around his body - his iron levels are good right now, but sometimes can be a little lower than I'd like. Otherwise he is the picture of perfect health, as usual. Arkarian once told me that he almost never gets sick, a fact which was simultaneously surprising and unsurprising. I guess it makes sense for him to have a ridiculously tough immune system - he's already lived through a resurgence of the plague when he still lived in France, another resurgence here in Australia, the Spanish influenza, and all of the other diseases that have been floating around for the last six centuries. Arkarian credits his exceptional health to having unfettered access to healers whenever he needed, but I strongly suspect that his immortal genetics have a stronger part to play. Still, having lived through all of that and never dealing with a major illness is incredibly lucky.
Switching off my healing skills is becoming increasingly difficult. Every time I'm near someone I find myself automatically scanning their body for signs of illness or injury, or worse, automatically healing them. I caught myself healing someone's broken arm in a cafe a few weeks ago purely on reflex - a very dangerous move. Hopefully I just sped their recovery time up a couple of days, but I still reported it to King Richard just in case. The result was a gentle admonishment from Lorian over tea. My punishment should probably have been firmer, but this was only a week or so before the final battle, and everyone had much more pressing matters to attend to. Come to think of it, that was the last time I saw Lorian one on one. I'm going to miss our cups of tea together.
I squeeze my eyes closed in an attempt to will myself back to sleep before I can get sad again. What was I dreaming about before? Maybe if I can focus enough on that I can drift back off. Something to do with Matt? And Athens. Yes. We were definitely in Athens, on one of the big balconies that run across the top of headquarters. And we were… throwing something at each other? Grapes, I think it was, like we used to do when we were little kids and trying to catch them in our mouths. Weird, I don't think we've messed around like that for years. What an unusually pleasant dream - not a burning golden light in sight.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, focusing on the memory of my dream. For a blissful moment, I fancy that I can feel myself slowly drifting back off, but with that drifting comes a loss of control over my dream. Matt's laughing face slowly become Neriah's, only she's not laughing. Instead her face is set in a mixture of determination and frustration. Her eyes meet mine for a moment and suddenly flames erupt in her hands, making me jump back several feet in alarm. Neriah, however, laughs in delight before morphing into Keziah, who promptly drops to his knees in front of me. Dream-Keziah looks younger than I've ever seen him, his gaze bitter with hatred as he glares at the floor.
"My people are dying," he murmurs. "Help us, and we will help you." He raises his head and stares over my shoulder, awaiting a reply from someone who must be stood only inches behind me.
I wheel around and suddenly I'm in the Tribunal headquarter's main chamber. The Tribunal members sit around me in their usual circle, staring down at me. No, they aren't looking at me. Once again every pair of eyes is focused on a spot behind me again. I spin around hopelessly, and this time Keziah has been replaced with Rochelle, limp, helpless, and crumpled like a rag doll on the floor.
Rochelle in my dream is just as she is in real life, dead and regretfully rotting. I'm doing all I can to prepare her body for interment right now, but I can only delay the decay so much. I don't know anything about embalming, and if the "funeral" Matt has planned doesn't happen soon, Rochelle will have to be wrapped up in a shroud. Perhaps that would be better. I bend down to try and pick her up off of the floor where she's lay, but the moment my hand touches hers she gasps and cloudy white eyes fly open. She sits upright, and pulls me close to her, planting her cold, dry lips onto mine. I recoil, but the second I pull away it's Arkarian sat before me, gazing at me with love and admiration and a perfect mirror to our first kiss in the gloomy depths of the Underworld.
"Thank you," he whispers. He unsteadily climbs to his feet, trying not to show how wobbly his legs are despite my healing. I help to steady him, just as I did the first time around. His hand holds firmly to mine as he gazes lovingly down at me. This time, however, rather than being bowled over by a hug from Ethan, his warm smile suddenly drops as his gaze once again lingers over my shoulder. Slowly, and with a creeping horror, his eyes widen in alarm.
"Arkarian?" I whisper, voice trembling with fear. "What is it?"
"ISABEL!" he suddenly cries out, sounding more terrified than I've ever heard him.
No.
Wait.
I have heard this before.
My vision.
I wheel around once more, starting to feel dizzy, expecting to be blinded by that same burning golden light. Instead, I'm stood at the edge of a cliff that drops off into a black abyss. The sudden change in scenery disorients me and I nearly slip off of the edge, but Arkarian pulls me back over the edge by my hand.
"Whoops-a-daisy," Dillon says, and he pulls me back a little further away from the edge. It's his hand holding mine now, and Arkarian is nowhere to be seen. "See? Trust me, Isabel. It would have been very easy to just throw you off."
I yank my hand out of his and push him back, hard. "No, no, no. You get away from me."
"Don't fight it, Isabel," he replies calmly. "You need to do this. It's what you were destined for, remember?"
"Stop it!" I cry.
"Besides," Dillon continues, tilting his head to one side. "Don't you want to save your brother?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I sob, sinking to my knees. My head is blindingly painful, and I clutch at it desperately with both hands. "Someone please help me!"
I don't know what's happening anymore. I'm having the nightmare to end all nightmares. Dillon crouches in front of me, his expression sympathetic.
"I don't want to hurt you, Isabel. I just want this to end. The lies. The deceit. It should never have happened. We are not pawns in someone else's game. Just do this and justice will be served." He presses an ornate dagger into my hands as he speaks, and nods to someone behind me.
Shakily, I turn my head to look over my shoulder. - I don't have the energy to keep spinning back and forth The burning cage is waiting for me, slamming into me forcefully and consuming my field of vision.
In the blinding light, image after image hits me, some of which I recognise from my horrifying encounter with the Prophecy wall. The past, present, future, and the impossible all stack on top of each other in a confusing jumble, faster than I can process. I feel it all, the very fabric of the universe, coursing through me like electricity and threatening to rip me apart, and the force of it jolts me awake again.
I fling myself upright, gasping desperately for every breath and grabbing at the skin on my arms. My nails leave long, red, angry-looking claw marks in my skin when I scrape at it desperately, willing the overwhelming burning sensation out of me. There's a cooling sensation as strong arms wrap around me, gingerly pulling my hands away from myself.
"It's ok. I'm here," Arkarian murmurs in a soothing tone in my ear. He pulls me back into his chest so I'm leant against him, and I feel a wave of calm wash over me.
"I had- I had a nightmare," I say lamely. "A couple of them. They were bad."
"So I see."
"I'm ok now, honest." I push myself back upright on my damaged forearms, but Arkarian steadies me and drapes one arm around me.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.
I shake my head and offer him a weak smile, looking him in the eyes as I do so. They're full of concern for me, and seeing him this way stings more than my raw skin.
"I'm fine," I lie. "It's really early, you should go back to sleep. I'm going to make myself a tea or something."
"Are you sure?"
I push Arkarian gently back down as I get to my feet. His head hits the pillow, but he's still braced on his forearms, ready to spring straight back up if needs be.
"Yeah I'm sure. It was just a silly nightmare. Go back to sleep."
Arkarian reluctantly relaxes his arms and pulls the sheets back up over his chest. Before he can argue anymore, I throw on my hoodie over my vest top and pad out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
I rummage around in the cupboard for a pan to heat some water in and flick through Arkarian's tea box trying to find something soothing and preferably decaffeinated. Arkarian doesn't take after his father in tea collection size, but there's a couple of different types to choose from. I throw a chamomile bag into a mug and wait for the water to boil.
As I wait, I roll up my sleeves to inspect the damage I've done to the skin on my forearms. I dug in deeper than I thought - in some places I've even managed to draw some blood. I really need to cut my nails. Slowing my breathing, I focus on healing myself until my arms look good as new, but I can't seem to stop my arms from trembling ever-so-slightly.
I pour the water into the mug slowly and carefully, trying not to let my shaky grip splash boiling water all over myself. Yeah, I could heal it in seconds, but that wouldn't make sustaining the injury any more pleasant. I sit down at the kitchen table and wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.
I sit there in silence, replaying as much as I can of my nightmare. The more I go over it, the more the details seem to slip through my fingers and the less sense it all makes. I sip my tea and drum my fingers absent-mindedly when I set the mug back down. Dillon was there at the end, that I remember. He gave me a dagger but I don't know why. Rochelle was there, dead but alive, and I don't know why. Keziah was there too and I REALLY don't know why.
"Isabel?"
Arkarian leans against the doorframe to the kitchen, still dressed in his nightclothes and still looking deeply concerned for me.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself. You've been in here nearly an hour."
The news surprises me. I feel like it's only been a quarter of an hour at most since I sat down. That explains why my tea is cold.
"Oh," I reply quietly, casting my gaze downwards. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise. I hope you weren't waiting for me."
"You don't have to apologise. I wasn't waiting intentionally," he replies, pulling a chair out from next to me and settling down into it. "I just missed you." He takes my hand as he says this, and raises it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.
"Sap."
"Absolutely," he agrees, releasing my hand and moving to tuck my stray locks of hair back behind my ear. "Especially where you're concerned."
Sitting quietly together in the kitchen with Arkarian making a fuss of me, it's almost possible to let my nightmare fade away completely and let go of all my troubles. Almost, but not quite.
"You're too nice to me," I say quietly. "I've kept you up. When people keep me awake I'm fully ready for murder."
Arkarian shakes his head. "You're always ready for murder, mon coeur."
"Only because everyone is always annoying. Except you."
He laughs at my remark and his gaze softens.
"What was your nightmare about?" he asks gently.
I allow my eyes to meet his. It's always really bugged me when people with light-coloured eyes constantly declare that 'oh my eye colour changes depending on my mood' - it's just the change in lighting, get over yourselves - but with Arkarian sometimes I think it might be true. Maybe it is just the warm, golden morning light in here, but I fancy that the violet of his eyes takes on a warmer tone when he looks at me, almost a berry-ish magenta. I love his eyes. I love that they're so perfectly unique to him, and that I could look at a thousand different pairs of eyes and pick his out from across a room. Catching his eye makes me feel safe, and, most importantly, loved.
"My nightmare was… messy," I reply.
Arkarian doesn't say anything in response, he just sits and waits patiently for me to continue.
"Fuck, I don't know. It was like a greatest hits compilation of things that are fucked up right now. Dillon was there, Rochelle was a zombie, pretty sure at some point I was throwing things at Matt-"
"Well at least that's in character for you."
"-yeah, at least there's that."
"Sorry. I'm interrupting."
"It's ok, I was just gonna continue to list off things that are shit. Then I think I had some flashbacks of those visions from yesterday, and… and I was burning again."
Arkarian leans in closer and puts an arm around my shoulders.
"Is that why you were scratching at your arms?"
I nod glumly. "It felt so real - just like last time. It started like I was being burnt alive, but then it changed to this feeling like when you get an electric shock. Only it didn't stop. It was like I was being ripped apart."
"You said you had flashbacks of your other visions from the Prophecy wall as well?"
I nod again.
"Are they any clearer to you now?"
"Still jumbled. Still too fast to make sense of." I frown. "Some of them still don't make any sense. Like there's no physical way for them to have ever happened."
Arkarian leans forward so that we're looking straight into each other's faces again. His brow is furrowed and his head tilts to the side, like an inquisitive bird. "What do you mean?"
I shake the thoughts from my mind. "It doesn't matter. They were all hitting me so fast, they must have started overlapping."
"Isabel…"
"Kar, we promised each other. Please don't try and debrief me without telling me."
Arkarian at least has the decency to look embarrassed, but I'm not angry. We will have to sit down and do an official debrief at some point. I know he's just trying to spare me a formal interview and written reports. I didn't even know official reports of my visions were drafted until I began training to become an Administrator - Arkarian has always quietly taken care of that previously.
"You're right," he admits. "But Isabel… I believe that we promised each other total honesty. We can't have total honesty if you won't talk to me."
"I'm not lying to you, I'm withholding information," I argue. "That's two totally different things."
"Not really."
"Look, I don't even know if what I'm telling you is accurate. I know we're gonna have to get into it eventually, but please, give me a while to sort my head out? No point doing a full debrief if we're just gonna have to re-do it in a couple of days when I've realised that actually my memory has mixed up half of what I saw."
"Ok. However I cannot delay this forever. We will need to debrief within the week," Arkarian replies, his tone of voice implying that this isn't a negotiable timeframe.
I smile up at him, wrinkling my nose playfully. "Sometimes I forget you're my superior. It's kind of hot," I tease.
He kisses the tip of my nose before resting his forehead against mine. "I'm not just asking because I'm your superior. I'm asking because I love you, and I'm worried about you."
"Worried about me? Kar, you don't need to worry about me. You know that."
"I will always worry about you. You're the most precious thing in the world to me."
His words almost have me blushing. I'm still not used to such grand declarations of affection, and I wonder if I ever will be. Arkarian is 601 years old, despite being shut away in semi-hermitage in the Guard he must have known hundreds of thousands of people in his lifetime, and somehow I'm his favourite person out of all of them. How I got to be so lucky is beyond me. Most of the time I feel deeply unworthy of his love.
I settle for teasing him instead.
"You really are so… very… sappy," I scoff, hoping that the heat rising in my cheeks isn't visible on my face.
"Yes, well, as previously discussed, you have only yourself to blame. You bring it out in me."
"Disgusting."
"Oh, I concur. It's quite nauseating," he says with a smirk.
"I love you too, by the way," I add.
"That's good to know. We don't have anywhere else to put you next year, so you're stuck living here with me even if we go through a dramatic break-up."
We banter back-and-forth good naturedly for a little while, listing alternative homes that I could live in, or how best to divide up the chambers evenly (I get the bathroom, but Arkarian gets the kitchen - he claims he can wash just fine using only the sink if necessary but I'm not sure how safe it is to cook using bathwater). Eventually our conversation winds down to a familiar companionable silence. Arkarian brews us both fresh cups of tea and chooses that moment to make an earth-shattering announcement.
"I'm going to try some cereal," he says, rattling a box of Cheerios that Jimmy delivered the other day.
I nearly choke on my tea. "I'm sorry, have you never had cereal before?" I ask incredulously.
"Never. I have heard good things though. These look very exciting."
"Cheerios are my favourite," I agree.
"That's probably why Jimmy bought them," Arkarian replies, grabbing two bowls from a shelf. "I only have soy milk, is that ok?"
"Yeah, sure. How come? Are you going vegan or something?"
"No, but the long-life milk that you bought for me a few weeks ago is honestly quite disgusting. It tastes almost acidic. Soy milk lasts a long time but doesn't taste like vomit."
"Well that's me not having long-life ever again," I complain with a shudder. "I'm going to think of chundering every time I taste it."
Arkarian smiles at me apologetically as he sets a bowl in front of me. I dig in enthusiastically. I hadn't realised how hungry I was until the first mouthful, and I eat with gusto. Arkarian meanwhile eats slowly, savouring every mouthful and looking more thoughtful than I've ever seen anyone be over a bowl of cereal.
"Opinions?" I ask.
He nods hesitantly. "I think I like it…"
"But…?"
"I liked it more at the start. Most of it is quite soggy now."
I laugh. "Because you eat so slowly! You gotta be quick with cereal or it gets mushy."
"Then what's the point of the milk? Why not just eat it dry?"
"So you can drink the milk at the end, obviously." In an act of demonstration, I immediately pick up my bowl and drain it. "Ah, that's good."
Arkarian gives up halfway through his bowl and pushes it towards me to finish it off, which I happily agree to.
"So that's a no on the Cheerios then?"
"No, I like them, but I would rather eat them dry and just drink a glass of milk at the same time."
I stare at him. "You are so weird," I announce.
Arkarian sits quietly whilst I finish the rest of his breakfast, looking faintly amused at the gusto I eat with. Once I'm finished though, the smile quickly begins to drop from his face, and he looks worried again.
"What?" I ask awkwardly.
He sighs and leans forward, propping his elbows up on the table and knitting his fingers together.
"Can we talk?" he asks, studying me closely.
A stone drops in my stomach. "Uh-oh. What did I do?" I try to keep my tone light and joking, but Arkarian and I have only ever had a 'talk' once before, when we first started dating, and it was both super-long and super-serious.
"Nothing," he says kindly. "Really."
"Then… what did you want to talk about?"
"I really am worried about you, Isabel."
I sag back in my chair. I know that there's no point in continuously arguing that I really am fine, but that doesn't mean that I don't still struggle to bite the argument back.
"Isabel you watched yourself, felt yourself, die, and I have never seen you as scared as you were after that vision. I know you will do everything in your power to stay safe, I do, but that doesn't make what you experienced any less traumatic."
"What's more trauma? I'll just add it to the pile," I reply flatly. He's right of course, seeing myself die has fucked with my head a bit, but honestly I have other, bigger things to worry about right now.
Arkarian is apparently unsatisfied with my solution of throwing everything on the trauma-pile and shakes his head. "If you just let things build up Isabel, you'll have a breakdown. You need to talk to someone."
"Like who? It's not like the Guard has therapists on tap."
"I know that, but it doesn't need to be a professional, just someone that you can trust. You could always talk to me? Or if you don't feel comfortable with that maybe Neriah, or Ethan when he's feeling better?"
"I'm not putting anything more on Ethan than I absolutely have to."
"I know, that's why I said 'when he's feeling better'. You need to learn how to reach out, Isabel, it will make the world of difference, believe me. Being a Guard member can be difficult at the best of times - being in mortal danger constantly, coupled with the severe pressure we are all under is enough to break even the hardiest of people. The Named however, have been suffering the worst of all. I know you and I have spoken in detail about our worries for Ethan, and others, but I need for you to acknowledge what you are doing to yourself by trying to push everything down for everyone else's sake. I want you to take care of yourself."
Arkarian's sincerity makes me tear up, and I rub at my eyes with the heel of my palms. Seeing me on the verge of tears prompts Arkarian to wrap his arm back around me and pull me close to him.
"I didn't want to upset you," he whispers.
"It's ok," I whisper back, miserably. "Everything is just very... everything right now."
"I know."
"I don't want to upset you either."
"I know."
"I'm sorry. And please don't say I know again."
Arkarian chuckles lightly and squeezes me. "D'accord, mon coeur."
"I promise I'm not being reckless with my health - mental or physical. Not intentionally, at least. I just have so much on my mind at the moment, and it's like you said - I know to stay out of trouble, and to stick with another Guard member at all times. Personally, I feel pretty safe, so that's why I'm trying not to stress about it," I reply. I take Arkarian's hand that's resting on my upper arm and hold it in mine as I talk. "But I promise I will do more to try and cope. And if I feel like I'm struggling, you will be the first person I seek out."
"Thank you, Isabel," he replies. He leans down to kiss me sweetly, then nods towards the door. "I know that we've eaten already but do you want to try going back to bed for a bit? You haven't had much sleep."
I shake my head. Going back to bed after tea and breakfast seems like a waste of good energy, and I don't think I would get much extra sleep out of the experience. "Let's just get dressed. I can help you run inventory on the spare parts we pulled from Veridian."
We get changed in relative silence and get to work. It didn't feel like it at the time, but seeing every single bit of tech that we pulled out of Veridian piled up in one of Arkarian's empty training rooms feels very satisfying. There's a lot more than I realised. Arkarian and Jimmy already began the initial sorting through yesterday - dividing everything into two enormous piles categorised either "complete replacement" (for Neriah and Jimmy to rebuild from scratch) or "to take apart for pieces". We sift through the pile and begin delicately dismantling the first console. It's a trickier process than just messing around with screwdrivers and wrenches - Atlantean technology is built to stay together. As we prise open a large metal box that looks suspiciously like Arkarian's proto-microwave, our conversation turns naturally to Ethan, and how he seemed yesterday.
"Considering everything he's been through, I thought he looked pretty damn good," I remark.
Arkarian nods in agreement, but slides his jaw from side-to-side thoughtfully. "Overall I agree, I can't even begin to fathom how he's feeling at the moment, but he seems to be working very hard towards recovery. However…"
"What?"
"He didn't seem to be doing nearly as well when you had your visions," Arkarian finishes. "It looked as though he was having a panic attack. Jimmy took care of him."
"He said that he's been getting them," I reply sadly.
"I suppose it's not surprising, his - ah - trauma pile is most likely at dangerously high levels."
"Didn't he get the gift of sanity from one of the Tribunal members though? Should he even be capable of panic attacks?"
Arkarian doesn't look up from the box as he begins pulling out metallic shards and long, skinny metal wires, but he grimaces. "His gift is probably all that's sustaining him. If I were in his position, and I lost you - I don't think that I would ever recover. Truth be told I would see very little point in living."
I reach across and still his busy hands, taking them in mine. "I'm not going anywhere," I say softly.
He smiles at me, squeezing my hands before letting go and returning to his work. "I know. What I'm trying to say is… Meridian's gift of sanity is probably exactly why Ethan is doing so well. Without it, his condition would likely be a lot worse. I received the gift of tranquility at my Initiation, but I can, and do, upon occasion, still get angry. As much as we may wish it not to be true, Ethan's mental health can still suffer, despite his gifts."
We lapse back into silence again, only taking the occasional break to catalogue the pieces we disassemble and parts that we pull out. It's proving to be a great learning opportunity for me - I'm quickly learning the names of the technology that Arkarian uses every day, and how to recognise them. Still, my mind feels like it's torn in two - one part is here, but the other part is far away and preoccupied with worry. My lack of focus must be showing, because after a couple of hours Arkarian sets the console down and walks around it to give me a hug.
"Hey," he says, planting a kiss on my cheek. "Are you ok?"
"Just… getting stressed."
"About anything in particular?"
I look up at him pointedly. He chuckles.
"Forget I asked."
"Forgotten," I agree. I duck my head back down and pull him in closer to me, taking a deep breath to inhale his smell - like old books and something earthy that I can't quite place. His scent grounds me somewhat, allowing me to refocus. "I guess I'm still worried about Ethan, even though I know he'll get through this. And I worry about Neriah, and you, and Matt, and I guess maybe I am slightly concerned for my own mortality."
"Well at least that's something… your concern for your own mortality, I mean," he adds hastily. "I'm just sad, mon coeur. I will feel better in time. And Neriah and Matt seem to have made up for now."
"Yeah but who knows how long that will last for. Unless Matt spills the beans soon he can only have put a band-aid on the problem at best."
"I'm sure Matt will come around eventually - too much is at stake for him to really be this stubborn. To give Matt his dues, leading the Guard when you're not fully prepared is no small feat," he chuckles again, stroking my hair. "Even Lorian struggled in the very beginning."
"He did?" The information surprises me. I struggle to conceptualise the idea of a 'young' Lorian who wasn't always perfectly in control of everything.
Arkarian hums and rests his chin on top of mine. "I don't know all that much about it to be honest, Lorian was always loathe to admit to his mistakes on the rare occasion that he made them. But when Lathenia first set her sights on this realm and the powerful beings who lived here - the magicians, both native and refugees from other previously-conquered realms - many refused to see her as a real threat. Many actually thought that Lathenia's rule, or at least an alliance with her, would be a good thing."
"I thought you just said that some of them were refugees were from realms she'd already taken over? Why would they think that it would be a good thing? They would already have seen the destruction that Lathenia wrought on their homes."
"They were hoodwinked, convinced that Lorian and other immortals were to blame for their problems. Lathenia fashioned herself into a liberator."
"I still don't get it. How? Lathenia must have had at least some leverage to make people think that."
Arkarian shakes his head and shrugs. "I don't know all of the details. Most of it is above even my access-level. Though I imagine Matt would be able to find out quite easily if he so wished. He would do well to look into it. After all, 'whoever wishes to foresee the future must consult the past' etcetera, etcetera."
I stiffen and wiggle myself out of Arkarian's embrace. "What did you say?"
Arkarian tilts his head to the side. "Which part?"
"The quote part. The Machiavelli bit."
Arkarian doesn't even bother to hide his surprise at my knowing the quote. I'm not exactly the kind of person who reads, well, anything really, in my spare time. Every piece of classic literature I've read has either been for English class or read to me (and then patiently explained to me) by Arkarian.
"I…um... well, yes, it's Machiavelli. The Discourses on Livy," he fumbles. "Why do you ask?"
"Discourses on Livy? What is that?"
"It's one of Machiavelli's pieces on philosophy and political history. I have it in my library if you're interested. It's quite dry reading, though…"
"Yes!" I exclaim, prompting further confusion in Arkarian's expression. "It was mentioned in a history thing at school a while back, and I was so confused." I try to keep my own expression as neutral as possible. "Having a copy to look over would be super helpful," I add for emphasis.
Arkarian nods, still looking slightly bewildered at my request. He disappears out of the room and reappears a few moments later, book in hand. It's not the oldest book in his library far, but it still looks aged and battered, so I cradle it carefully as he passes it over to me.
"Thank you so much," I say, clutching the book to my chest. "I'm gonna just put this in my bag."
I slip out of the room and back over into Arkarian's bedroom, where I wrap the book up gently in yesterday's t-shirt. I slide it back into my backpack and zip it up firmly. It's not exactly the answer to all my questions, but this is the direction that Dillon was apparently trying to point me in. Whatever is in that book may be the first step on the road to understanding our cryptic conversation.
I take a shaky breath in and slump back on the floor, staring at my backpack. I don't think I've ever been so eager to read a book in my entire life. Right now, however, I need to get back to Arkarian and cataloguing salvaged spare parts. I give my backpack an awkward pat for good luck, then scuttle out of the room and back to work.
