Knock.
Everyone grew tense after Byron's initiative, the whole group waiting with bated breaths. The rain seemed to lull the corridor for hours after that, with no movement on the other side.
Knock knock , they tried again. Mid hurried closer and added a last knock for good measure, effectively dodging Byron's reprimanding hand. But before they got consumed by the argument, the knob twisted. After an eternity, the door creaked open —and for once, they all thought it was not slow enough. They had not been as prepared as they first thought.
Joshua stood before them, taller and thinner than they remembered. The soft, dim light of his room illuminated the hallway and his outline, causing his shadow to stretch across the floor and walls. In that nightwear, he looked awfully blue. Although they could not tell the exact shade of blue. The long robe-like fabric had left bare everything he would have wanted hidden: bandages tightly wrapped around his torso, and fading scars maring the skin where it was exposed. And he made no move to close it, even as he felt their eyes on his body.
His jaw tightened, and he had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything rash to the hopeful face of his uncle. They were worried. Joshua was only half-surprised neither Clive nor Jill had attempted to come along. Months ago, his brother would have dragged himself through agony to see him and make sure he was safe. But it seemed as if he had learned the lesson, or maybe it was the fact he understood the aftermaths of tragedy and pain better than he let on —and thus, knew Joshua was better left alone.
He sighed.
''Well, it's quite late my friends,'' he began, voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and annoyance, more so than curiosity ''What brings you? No news of an impending disaster, I hope.''
Drinks and various delicacies were nestled in everyone's arms — more than he could ever eat on his own. It seemed they were here for a celebration rather than a simple visit. As he remained unmoved, their excitement visibly faltered, realizing they may have gotten ahead of themselves. Byron's expression wavered at the complete lack of enthusiasm coming from his nephew, but he still forced a jovial smile. His 'everything's good' smile. He exchanged looks with Gav and L'ubor —the latter looking like he wanted to slip away— before clearing his throat.
''Why! Isn't visiting a dear friend a good enough reason to come here? You've not been around lately. Which I suppose isn't all too surprising… What with all the treatments and you barely coming back in one piece… hah. Nevertheless, we heard you've been looking sad.. So, we believed a little get together might help put back some color in those cheeks. You deserve it, don't you think? Nothing better than some laughter and tasty delicacies to restore one's morale!'' When Joshua's expression did not change, he pressed on with renewed vigor ''We've even brought honey cakes, son! A delightful treat even adults deserve to savor! Freshly baked, Rosarian style, courtesy of our dear Martha. And of course, I've made sure only honey of the highest quality would soak its dough. Well, at least, the best I could find…'' he cleared his throat, ''I know you've always had a ravenous appetite for those. Remember when your late aunt Genevieve attempted to make you have your carrots by cooking them in the dough? Heavens know the tantrum you had pulled when you realized… good thing she was not there. How old were you then… six? Or was it the day after your seventh summer?''
''Clive told us interesting anecdotes.'' Mid chimed in, giggling as she looked back and forth between them. The duo's confidence seemed to be spilling onto the others, ''C'mon Joshua, you probably have a few very embarrassing stories on him too… Won't you tell us about them alongside a nice degustation of sweet cakes and mead?'' She swayed the plate full of pastries in front of him, eyebrows wiggling. ''A small bite of Martha's glorious, splendid honey cakes?''
When she leaned too close and nearly-tripped, L'ubor held her back by the arm to help her find her balance. ''My Lady, you're making it sound like some shady deed was done to them.''
''I'm not! They're just truly magical.''
''A taste like no other, indeed.'' Gav winked at Joshua, ''Promise there's no carrots in there. Word of honor, on me.''
''Lord Underhill had his hound sniff them just in case.''
''Stop calling him that!''
Joshua simply nodded, glancing at the cakes with disinterest, ''I see. Thank you for your consideration, although I don't have much of an appetite at the moment.''
''Erm,'' Byron swallowed hard, his confidence started to dim. He looked down, mouth opening and closing as he struggled for the right words, ''Are we perhaps coming at a wrong time? If so, apologies, my boy… Lady Tarja informed us you were finally well enough to receive. She also said as long as you stayed within limits, your health allowed for some…'' He raised the jug in his hands with a sheepish smile, ''Appetizers?''
''Lady Tarja told you true, although I'd have appreciated if she abstained from pronouncing herself on my behalf.''
Joshua's hand scraped the wooden door for the handle, his sides had started to sting where flesh was still slowly mending. He tried to keep the anger bubbling within him at bay. It wasn't their fault. Although he was not sure if he was unjustified in feeling like a doll lately… Everyone thought they knew better than him. Or perhaps he was truly missed? He could not tell.
For the group, he stood like a predator. Judging, cold and devoid of his usual warmth. Those blues eyes, once ridiculously likened to youthful chocobos', were now rapacious. He had been told he could look mean when he was too honest, too forward —when he did not carefully keep watch of every millimeter of his face and body. When he did not reshape his words, heart and mind to preserve people's comfort. And he could see it now, as these tough heroes all faltered before him, as if he could still wield the Phoenix and burn them all at once.
Byron sighed, resigned. The old man knew better than to push a stalemate. The Rosfields knew which battles to pick, mostly. But their hopes were hard to extinguish, their noisiness even harder to kill. He nodded towards the door, a frown etched on his face "Are you alone in there, my boy?"
Joshua straightened his posture, ''Yes.''
''Could I, perhaps—''
''And I would like it to stay the case for a while longer. For the best.'' He cut his uncle off before he could offer his stay ''Truly, I don't wish for anyone's company at the moment.''
He was met with silence as they all exchanged unsure looks. This time he addressed everyone, ignoring the dejection on Byron's face ''If all of you may leave now, please. I still have much to recover… Something I'm sure our doctor hasn't left out of her statement, as much as she thinks I need and miss socializing.''
That last part was told with more venom than necessary. And he was sure word would get out sooner than he would slide into bed. So be it. He was past getting intimidated by Tarja or anyone else at this point.
He turned to his door then, barely acknowledging the whispering and unsure rounds of 'good night' behind him, or when Gav tapped him on the shoulder as they started to leave.
''Hope you get better soon, mate.''
Mid ran up to him, then grabbed his free hand, putting a soft and sticky ball in it. She then hurried away, gone as fast as she had snuck on him. He took a look at what she had given him. A honey cake. His throat felt tight. But whether it was the ill in his body or his guilt, he had no idea. He was almost sure he couldn't tell all the kinds of pain from each other anymore.
Byron cleared his throat once again, and Joshua's hand only hovered over the doorknob. Not pushing anything open yet.
''I'm so sorry Joshua. Your behavior has raised concerns, you stopped coming to places you loved, you haven't spoken to many… even Jote and Jill have said they had a hard time talking with you. And, well, your brother is troubled. He wanted some news… really, he wouldn't stop saying you worry him. But he didn't want to force anything out of you unless you were ready. I see now I've been a bit too heedless. The party was my idea, so please, don't hold anything against them, alright? We're all worried. You're just precious to everyone.''
This confession had all the tension and evil melt out of Joshua's face. Guilt replaced some of it. His eyes were much softer when he turned back to his uncle, and a sad, gentle smile played at the edges of his lips. ''I should be the one apologizing.'' he muttered, raising a hand to his uncle's shoulder.
He expected him to stiffen. To shove it off. But he only relaxed, mirroring his expression, and only then Joshua had been able to see the older man was exhausted too. His cheeks hollower.
''Well, we all made a mess? This year all around hasn't been too kind,'' he laughed, ''We've only been reacting in retaliation.''
''Clive is… Could you please keep looking after him? Tell him I'm fine, and I miss him quite a bit. Jill too. And Torgal. I may come down to Martha's Rest in the next few days… pay homage to the House as well. But, a little favor… Don't speak of it to anyone else, I'm still just considering .''
Byron's eyes brightened, ''Does that mean…?''
Against his better judgment, and way too touched by his uncle's excitement, he said, ''Maybe I do miss your merry ways… in small doses, although.''
They exchanged a laugh. Before another silence threatened to take place.
''Erm,'' Byron started, unsure, then stepped closer to whisper, ''There's a lot of food and alcohol and we've been a bit uh… how can I say this… Barred? From other floors. For now.''
He let the meaning linger in the air. His nephew caught it instantly.
''You're asking me if you could use the hall over there?''
''Yes. Should it please you, of course… we can all carry some food to our quarters, it's fine if the food loses freshness. In fact, the excess could always find its way to the chocobo stables. Only the edible I mean —we cannot risk inebriated mounts going about now. No one would be thrilled by the idea.''
Joshua's hand fell off his uncle's shoulder like it had been shot down by an arrow.
He sighed. ''Very well.''
Giving up the contact had made that all too familiar coldness creep back up his spine, freeze and curl around his lungs. And Bryon may have been too drunk off his relief and happiness to notice.
When the brutal clatter of rain hitting the alcove's window beckoned him more than the honeyed words of affection… His heart had turned to the downpour to stay grounded. The dulcet of Byron's voice had lost its allure, and alongside its safety.
Joshua felt like he was being taken advantage of. Again.
''Delightful! I'll ensure everyone behaves. It's a fine distance from your room, and even then, trust me… we'll be as quiet as mice. You may even forget we're hereabouts at all.''
''Oh sure, I have no doubts in that regard.''
He hoped the rain would drown out their chaos.
''Joshua, I'm serious.'' He straightened, hugging his jug like he wanted to shield it from a threat, ''Don't just go back in your quarters painting us as some barbarians to your conscience! All of them, they're very good kids.''
Good kids, absolutely, but were they quiet?
He looked down at the honey cake, small in the middle of his palm… he should be in love with it. But, for the first time, his favorite dessert was not looking appetizing at all.
As soon as everyone had started down the hall, his expression hardened. He swung the door open, entered his room and slammed it shut with barely a care.
''Where did we leave off?''
Jote resisted the urge to shrink into herself as he made his way to the bed, his gown brushing against her shoulders and leaving goosebumps as he walked past her chair. She craned her neck to watch him settle on top of his bed, his scowl deeper and his breathing slightly agitated. But she said nothing about it.
The deep blue of his robe did nothing to soften him. It was flattering in a way that made him look like a sculpture of stone, maybe kissed by frost, features straight but dim, dull… his golden locks and rosy lips the only sparks. Red had looked better. It had kissed and intensified the life in him.
''The transfer, your Grace. When you handed the Phoenix.''
She did not miss the twitch in his brows, or the way his mouth twisted and his breathing heaved. He started to pick at the sheets, fingers twisting the fabric in a way that looked painful. If there had been a way to avoid the topic all together, she would have. Curiosity be damned. But a full chronicling had been required by both him and the Council. And… there was not much they could do when history required answers to endure.
Even when despair tainted every word.
Phoenix's absence had changed him, more than it had been the case for the other dominants. Once ever so graceful and rational, he now had barely any hold over his emotions. The firebird may not have been a mender of his collapsing body, but it sure had been a mender of the heart, if not the soul. He had been relying on it to tame his misery. It had given him patience when all seemed lost. Despite his denial.
After a long pause, Joshua spoke. Even with his chin tucked onto his chest, his voice sounded so clear,''I… I was bleeding. My brother held me to him, and still, I felt cold… I thought it was too late.''
The Lord Marquess . Another pause. He shook. She held back from prodding, giving him all the time he needed to compose himself. She could only trust he would get through this.
''This is ridiculous.''
''Your Grace…''
He scoffed, a hand lost in his hair now, tugging at the strands almost, ''It was me, Jote. I gave up. But if I had to be honest, I felt cravenly relieved… I had wished to perish at that moment, and absolved myself from all responsibilities. Whatever happened then and before, whatever would happen next… who could blame the dead?'' He paused, ''It'd have been quite taxing to be a hero, and even more someone who had ruined the world for good. I'd have failed again. Failing is all I know… Yet, I've always been regarded as a savior.''
Jote's heart twisted at his words, and her grip on the quill threatened to crush it. She bit her lip as heat welled up her face, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. The quill broke. Black ink had tainted her fingers. She tried not to touch the parchment, impulsively bringing her hand to her chest and drying it on her tunic. Not minding the stains. Ink wouldn't be the first thing to sully her clothes so.
Light flickered by her lamp, a moth flew too close to the flame before it fell down and flew right up to her face. Like it had burnt itself on his sorrow.
''One gash hurt more than the others… when it throbbed,'' his voice wavered, '' I… I gave it away. Not to freedom.''
She turned to him, brows furrowed in confusion. ''Not to freedom?''
He did not answer back. She stood up then, arranging the perchmant and discarding the quill. She walked the distance to his bedside, and placed a hand on his knee, but even that was not enough to get him to look at her. ''It might be best if we halt everything for today, Your Grace. You're unwell, I can clearly see recalling in this state pains you beyond measure… Rest is what you need at the moment, the facts aren't as pressing. I'll be there to write your words once you believe yourself ready.'' she lowered herself to catch his eye when he slowly looked up from his wrung hands, ''I'm not going anywhere. So, please…''
Joshua took a while to agree. His eyes met hers and, for a moment, the warmth he had lost was back. He searched her gaze for something, desperately, and when she smiled, he returned it as best as he could, even if it was only there for a brief moment. ''I know. You're right. I'm sorry for keeping you up this late... So much of your time I've devoured for granted just to give a low tier retelling. I even wonder if it made any ounce of sense… My mind isn't in its right place tonight. I reckon it'd need a lot of work to make it somewhat decent enough for archiving.''
''What good is there to my help if I don't counterbalance your lacks when you need it most?''
''Oh?'' He raised an eyebrow, voice tilted with amusement, the hint of a smirk on his lips, ''You're not denying it's 'lacking' ?''
Her mouth dropped open, but before she could apologize or clear up her stance, he waved a hand off, his smile widening. She sighed in relief. A bit of mischief looked good on him. ''You can leave anytime. However, I'd watch out for the others… I highly doubt they're leaving the area anytime soon. Their 'little parties' tend to carry on far longer than appropriate,'' as on cue, a loud laugh —probably Byron's— resounded, followed by commotion and a crash. By the dull sound of it, wood. Had they ruined furniture? Joshua and Jote exchanged a concerned look, before he continued. ''It will be hard to bypass their vigilance. As sloppy as it seems. I've told them I was alone so, as such, I don't dare imagine their questioning if they ever saw you exit my room.''
She did not dare imagine either. The mere thoughts of all those eyes on her and their faulty assumptions made butterflies crawl around her stomach.
Her eyes went to the window, ''If I may, I could try…''
He followed her line of vision, horror painted on his face as she moved away from him.
''Absolutely not.'' He sat more upward, his jaw tensed, glaring at her. ''I'm not blessed with healing abilities anymore, nor can anyone else in this realm assure you a steady recovery if you ever fall and hurt yourself… Now, if to your death…''
'' If to my death,'' she said tauntingly, rounding up his bed and walking to the window. She heard fabric rustle, but kept her eyes on the panes. Rain drops hitting the glass got louder as she approached. ''Delighted to know you haven't lost faith in my athletic fits.''
''Jote.'' he warned, his voice hard but with an agitated edge to it. She glanced back at him, seeing him halfway out of his bedding, a foot already on the stone cold floor, and felt bad for pushing his buttons. But nonetheless, her heart warmed up at the way he could not hide his care.
She yielded, concealing her smile. ''Forgive me, Your Grace. If you truly don't mind, I'll prolong my stay in your quarters for a bit —I doubt they'll drag on for the whole night. You should probably go to sleep… I'll make sure nothing disturbs your rest.''
Some tension eroded off his shoulders, but he hesitated to look away ''Then seal it. Lock this window and come back.''
''Consider it done.'' She mumbled, doing as he said.
She watched as he settled back, his head now resting against the headboard. He breathed in and out, his body visibly growing more relaxed but his eyes stayed open, watching the ceiling with a faraway look. The sight was beautiful, with the moonlight washing over him, lifting some kind of veil… although, she was not sure what to see. If it was sadness, it couldn't be any more obvious.
''I'm not quite sleepy, yet. Weary, indeed, but not too eager to succumb into dreamland.''
''Then what would you like to do?'' She paused, cocking her head as he mindlessly arranged the sheets. ''Is there anything you'd have of me?''
He gestured for her to sit on the mattress, moving his legs aside to make way for her. She stood at the end of his bed for a few seconds, staring in surprise, and hesitant. But the expectant look in his eyes was one she found hard to ignore. Wouldn't want to break his heart now. He had been so distant, fanning off any attempt at getting close to him these past few weeks. This development was enormous and should be welcomed.
He reached for the pastry on the bedside, messily ripping it apart in two halves. Crumbs fell to the floor as he did so. When she was close enough, he wordlessly handed her one half, the ghost of a smile caressing his lips. She accepted it with a shy bow.
She was not hungry either. But it smelled good, the subtle honey and cinnamon notes were comforting. It made the air warmer, somehow.
''Thank you, Your Grace.'' She said, as she delicately settled on the spot he had made for her, making sure, still, she was not taking too much or hindering his movements. ''I could try to entertain you with some tales, but I fear I don't have much to tell. Life hasn't been exciting. You would surely know all about it, as your endeavors with your brother and the crown prince, and your return have been the most… dare I say, exciting parts.'' Most exciting. Or rather, most jarring, terrifying, and ultimately miraculous. She bit the inside of her cheeks. Had she sounded too bitter?
Her thumb pressed idly on the cake's middle, mashing it a bit, and she brought it to her face, tasting the honey's sweetness. She snuck a glance at Joshua and the taste on her tongue turned near sour. His face had twisted for a second, like he had been punched in the guts.
''Exciting, you say…'' No doubt memories would have painfully flooded in if he had chosen to latch on her words. So, he looked up at her instead, a quirk of wit tinting his voice and a smile too carefree to be genuine. ''Nevertheless, I can see you grew some teeth in your bite. I suppose time at the Hideaway has done you good… you're less filtered, less guarded.''
Her heart sank. But her newfound confidence held her back from bowing her head and scrambling for an apology. He didn't sound bothered by that in particular… she was still behind the line of respect their status allowed, was she not? ''Is it upsetting you, Your Grace? If so, I apologize. Overstepping wasn't my intention, nor was it to bring you more distress… This is hardly an excuse, but my mind isn't as sharp in the night.''
He shook his head, a little laugh leaving him. ''Why, I disagree. I find you're one of these people who sound wiser once the sun set.'' He smiled, ''You have not overstepped. So don't be sorry. If truth be told, I find it refreshing… we get to be friendlier, something I feel had been taken away from us after that damned day.''
Right as her eyes fell to Ultima's past prison, his hand came up to shield his sternum —long fingers covering the scar with an hesitant touch. But the shape was engraved in her mind… so painfully distinct, a witness, a reminder of years of him slowly bleeding out his whole life and humanity.
''I'm sorry,'' she said, blinking her tears away.
''Don't be.'' He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward, peering at her in an effort to catch her gaze, ''There was no helping it, was there? Although, now, things are slowly getting to where they had been before, right?''
'All in its right place.' Those words would have felt natural on his lips.
She managed a smile, finding his wide eyes particularly endearing in that instant. A look she had missed. ''Almost.''
''It'll only get better from now. We have never let each other down, have we?''
Things would get better. At least she hoped. But to her, it seemed like she had been repeating this promise for a lifetime. And she didn't know if it was alarming that she believed herself ready to still wait until her last breath.
Everyone had said there had been something off with Joshua… he had become distant, colder, less talkative even though he was known as the knowledgeable, attentive rambler by everyone. They mainly knew his charms. After coming back from Origin, it took a couple of weeks before she felt like he was tolerating her, and another few weeks for him to engage and smile. Though, they learned those blissful moments were as frail as glass. One just never knew what kind of pat would shatter him. Losing Phoenix had triggered the most turmoil.
Amidst everything, one thing that had always been clear to her since forever was that he did not want to be alone. A hand on his shoulder, sweeping off all the weight… Someone who let him know he knew how to breathe. A steady heartbeat to overpower the silence when it got too loud. And she could give him all that… she could give her company without being good with words… just being by his side.
She would give until the end. Even if he became unable to give anything in return.
''Jote.''
She realized she had not responded to his question and ushered a quick apology. With a sheepish smile, she nodded. Reassurance… she could try to give that too,''Indeed. I'm happy you're back, Your—''
Another crash. And another, and —sounded like platters this time, followed by a hearty explosion of laughter, and several more voices raising and clashing into arguments that were difficult to make out.
Joshua groaned and sunk down into his bed. He brought an arm up to cover his face, and let out the heaviest sight she had heard that night. ''Founder…''
''We're in for a long night, aren't we?''
''It's the liquor… I've seen them carry at least three jugs here. Ale and Dhalmekian mead…''
''Uhm. As injudicious as it could sound… I'm almost tempted to request some of their ale, it might loosen tension. Does it sound tempting to you too, Your Grace?''
''Has your time among their merry spirits made you a drinker as well?'' He paused before resuming with amusement, ''As far as I can remember, you've always been rather… delicate. The few times you've abused your liquor had us exchange roles for whole nights.'' He briefly peeked at her from under his arm. And he delivered another blow, his nose scrunching, ''Your indisposition costed me a few tunics.''
Jote's cheeks burned at the reminder. She never stopped feeling abashed for vomiting on him. Even if he assured her he did not hold any grudge —although he loved to bring it up as a cautionary tale when he felt her getting too bold. ''I regretfully have to inform you that my tolerance hasn't gotten any better by now. But I believe I can handle myself… I've learned my limits. A few sips to warm ourselves up in this cold evening? And make sleeping easier also…'' She held up her piece of honey cake, ''It would pair up well with this.''
''We're not drinking tonight. Being all alone with you here… I fear what may happen if we let us get inebriated… if we let it pour into our bodies.''
''Whatever do you mean, Your Grace?''
He completely removed his arm —revealing a face of stone, a closed off face she had seen way too often lately. His eyes slowly swept over every inch of her, unfocused, until they met hers… They were so blue, so icy, so unnerving and unreadable. She was not sure her breathing was coming out evenly at that moment. He did not give her much time to try and decipher his expression after pinning her to her spot, before he covered his face again. ''Don't worry yourself with it.''
She tried to ease it off, shifting slightly on her hands as if he could see her tentative smile, ''I won't vomit on you if that's—''
''I said we're not drinking.''
Jote fell silent then. There was a finality to his words that she was too scared to challenge, lest it'd escalate the situation.
She looked away from him, nibbling on the cake in faint frustration. After a while, she had lost clear track of his breathing as her mind got slowly drawn to the weather. Joshua's soft, held back sounds got overpowered by the resilient rain outside. Years ago, she'd have beaten herself over it. The waver in her alertness could have been fatal. However, now, occasional glances to his chest told her the rhythm was good. He was safe.
As the main source of light in the room started to flicker wildly, she turned her attention to the desk. The moth that had been flying onto her face earlier kept hitting the edge of the lantern and, for a moment there, the worry for its life had her forget the tension at hands. She feared it would burn off its wings. And slowly crumble like dust… Such a curious little thing, driving by desire for the unreachable. It would gladly burn right there and meet its doom in this ambitious quest. But… she could relent there was allure to fire, an appeal far too great, even —she knew all too well.
It flew away from the flame, flapping all around the room in sloppy lines. She watched as it got closer, hitting the wall and taking flight again until it hovered above their heads. Above Joshua's. It seemed like it found another fire. And she bitterly smiled at the irony… he was the light in the room. Always on the forefront, a lord, authoritative, stubborn and still and always the center of her world. Everything wanted to remind her.
Suddenly its wings gave up and it fell down, right onto Joshua's stomach —spot dark against the dull white of his bandages. Her heart skipped a beat. By instinct, and by habit, Jote leaned towards him. Her waist and then her hip brushed past his thigh as she shifted her weight on the bed. She stretched out her arm to attempt to catch the moth, her fingers brushing against the bandages and the exposed skin around them. She was quick, a swift flick of her wrist and her hand caged the bug—
Joshua's abdomen immediately tensed up and his breathing heaved. She did not get to retrieve her catch towards her that his bigger hand had already seized her wrist, and he sat upward —his hold tight, but not painful yet.
''What are you doing?'' His voice cut through the night, snapping her back and making her hyper aware of everything. All of a sudden.
Their faces were too close for comfort. Confusion and something more intense colored his glare, and a deep scowl framed it, leaving her rooted in place. Despite the dimness in the room, she couldn't help but notice the flush of his cheeks, and the tension in his jaw. His bangs ghosted over her nose bridge, and her only desire at the moment was to sink into the floor and vanish.
The moth had long fled from the prison of her fingers. It quivered around them, so close it bumped against his cheek, before it flew off farther in the darkness of the room. It wanted to escape. Or maybe it had been its goal to feed the fire all along. But it had not accounted for it being so blazing it turned glacial.
Joshua's hand squeezed her wrist, making her timidly meet his eyes. They were still cold, but this time they searched her face, falling over every corner for something… She tried her damn best not to suffocate and falter in this proximity. Should she stay still or lean back?
He felt, smelled like a draft. Cool and harsh.
She swallowed, her mouth felt dry. The honey that had coated her throat minutes earlier left only drought behind. ''There was a—''
Her explanation was cut short. He stood up from the bed and yanked her to her feet. He did not wait for her to find her footing, as he guided her urgently to the door.
''I'd rather like to be left alone.''
''But you said…''
''It matters not if they think I lied.'' He tried to keep his voice bare, but it still wavered with barely hidden anger, ''We don't owe them anything. What and who comes out of this place is none of their business.''
With that he swung the door open with such force she feared he had almost detached it from its post. He let go of her wrist and put his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her outside. A contrast. She did not resist but, still, she could not leave without a clarification at the very least.
''Your grace—'' but before she got to ask, he closed the door to her face.
Jote stood there. Alone in the hallway, her head hung down and shoulders slack. She rested her hand against the wooden door, bracing herself, searching for something to ground herself into reality. It almost felt like she was falling down a never ending well. She got swallowed, eaten by nothing, barely felt the floor.
She took a shuddering breath, and looked sideways, trying to make out her surroundings. Amidst the moonlight and the candles, nothing seemed clear. The only evidence was that he wouldn't have her near him tonight. While what she did to warrant this reaction was unclear in her head… she had said she could respect that. She said she could give company, not force it.
Quietly, gently, she took a step back. Her fingers slid off the door and she wrapped her arms around herself. ''Good night, Your Grace.''
When she turned away, his reply came in a whisper.
''Good night, Jote…''
The name on his tongue twisted the blade etched in her heart. It had her hope he may not have been mad, after all. She felt pathetic for the way her heart swelled at the sound of his voice… before it bled again. He was so cruel.
She blinked back her tears and hurried down the hall, following the subdued voices of the party. She sure hoped the others would know better than inquire.
But, she wanted their ale, their pastries and their fire.
Fuck.
Her name on his tongue tasted bitter. He had already ruined it for the night, so why try to make amends?
The soft sound of her footsteps —no, of her dragging her feet away— was so loud in the night, too loud to his guilt.
A rueful smile etched on his lips. The way she moved like the whole world came to settle on her back, that dejected little look every time someone broke her heart… How he would have loved nothing more than to take her in his arms. He would have kissed her countless times. Kissed the lingering honey off her lips. Beckoned all the tears forth, to then wipe them away with his thumbs.
His stomach knotted, his heart wavered.
He slid to the floor, hands covering his burning face. Anger, embarrassment, shame, restlessness… all clashed and over flooded through all canals of his being. Nothing had been right tonight. And he had been battling with everything he had stifled from the moment their hands collided.
Now —sprawled alone on the floor— he realized his anger had been terribly misguided.
She was Jote, she would never do that.
His fingers almost dug into his skin, the sharp edges of his nail were so close to drawing blood. How incredibly stupid he had been. He had thought she tried to take advantage of his vulnerability. Thought she had caught on the unsaid, the unspeakable, and attempted to exploit it. Taking and giving into his own fantasies, bypassing boundaries he trusted her the most to respect. And… she was trustworthy. Only shame followed when he realized it was all him. Fault laid with his sick mind, and all she did was accidentally wander on the outskirts of it. A misunderstanding. Because, she had once again put him above all, ever so kind and serviable.
His hands slid down his face and, immediately, he noticed her cloak still hanging on top of the chair. Eyes widened when he realized he had sent her out in the coldness of the night, with naught a thing to keep herself warm and modest. He jolted to his feet, hasting to the desk with as much rapidity as he could despite his injuries. He winced when the wound on his side pinched. 'Calm down,' he could almost hear her say, 'Take it easy'
''I know.'' He managed through gritted teeth.
Avoiding the parchment that had yet to dry, Joshua took support on the desk. He grabbed her cloak, holding it to his chest like life itself was nestled in the stitches. But then, hesitation and fear hit him all at once. He almost lost balance… Jote was far from being as weak and absentminded as he was. If she had noticed, she was either too mad or too scared to ask for the cloak, for she surely had no desire to deal with him yet. Not tonight. Maybe not for a long time.
He scowled, clutching the garment so hard it felt like pumice against his skin.
She must have reached her room by now. Maybe, a kinder soul crossed her path, and took her with them, lended her something much warmer. What would they all say if he showed his face now? What would she say? Would she even open her door?
He dug into his lip with his teeth, then took a deep breath as he straightened up. The cloak was wrinkled now. But still pretty. A soft green, a color that had always made Jote look like serenity in all its splendor. He had told her what upsets his eyes. And she always made sure his sight would be appeased.
He brought the cloak to his face, enjoying the lingering warmth, the way the fabric caressed his cheeks, and he breathed in her lovely scent. Could he maybe… his breath caught. Tempting thoughts flooded back to haunt him. If she was not there, if it was useless to run after her now, if it sat abandoned on this chair… Could he take it to bed with him? He could hold it and intertwine in his arms, pretending she was still there… laying, sitting close and doing as she promised. Not leaving him.
No, he should not.
He settled it back on the chair, smoothed the sleeves, and then started for his bed. A step away, he noticed the moth again. It flew above his head in sloppy circles, as if it was mocking him. And Joshua did not know whether to laugh along or crush it into dust.