Bleary-eyed, it was taking more and more effort to keep himself awake. His head had grown fuzzier with the passing of time; his thoughts had grown sluggish despite them still racing. All Tate wanted to do was sleep, but it seemed unlikely.
( Was it a good thing to know that death could be just as exhausting as living? )
He had tried to go to sleep earlier, or to at least try and let his body rest, but each time, just as he nearly fell asleep, adrenaline began to course through his veins shocking him awake again. Despite being physically exhausted, his mind was just too alive.
( His mind was alive. He was alive. All good things. He couldn’t be more thankful. )
A voice from his right caught his attention, and Tate looked over to see Jack. A pitying expression crossed his face. She looked a mess – he scolded himself for thinking so, but everyone did look out of sorts. Jack just seemed worse. They really had never been too close, but she was easy to talk to. He appreciated her kindness, her gentleness.
( This entire situation was unfair. All those people hurt, all those who died. He
couldn’t believe that it was deserved. He saw the injustices, he knew how people
felt. But was death the way to cause change? )
“ Portia’s alive. She’s fine, ” Tate paused, his head dipping down as he mumbled, “ Or at least as fine as anyone could be right now. ” If anyone would say to him they were fine, he would doubt them. He himself said he was fine but he had died. He wasn’t as fine as he’d prefer to be. Everyone was surely feeling the stress, the anxieties, the pain.
What happened? Her voice echoed in his head, earning a sigh from him. “ There was an explosion. It – it went off right after the king finished speaking. Everyone in the gathering hall, the hallways. Hurt. ” There was an unspoken ‘or worse’ lingering on his lips.
“ How are you feeling? ” He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting by her now, but he had watched her as she stayed so still for so long. “ Do you need me to get you anything? They’ve got wet rags down here, or I could find a healer or someone – Bailey, maybe – if you’d like? ”
The voice startled her. She thought she had spoken, but she hadn’t been entirely sure if it was a figment of her rattled imagination. And even then, she had not entirely been certain anyone would answer. But someone did, a familiar voice, though not one she immediately recognized. But would she have recognized anyone at that point? She turned to glance towards the form next to her, her eyes focusing slowly on Tate. Such a nice boy, she thought, a weak smile forming on her lips.
A moment later, her smile turned gracious and she inwardly thanked all the gods at his words. Portia was alive. Portia was fine. Those words were the ones she had needed the most. As log as her friend was okay, she was certain everything would be alright. Perhaps those words were almost too optimistic, but Jack needed to believe something in this world was still good when everything else had gone wrong. “Thank you,” she whispered finally, not entirely sue who she was speaking to: Tate, the one who had brought the good news; the gods above for sparing her friend from death; Portia, for not leaving being another casualty in a war neither of them had asked for.
His next words filled her with dread, overshadowing the small bit of hope she’d begun to feel. “The king’s alright?” she asked, though her words were more a statement than anything. He had to be fine. hough this would never pass for calm, surely things would have been much worse if something had happened to their king. "What about the others?” she asked finally, looking towards Tate for confirmation that people were more than hurt. Logically, she knew that something that had caused that many grievous injuries would likely have caused some death, but she didn’t want to think about those poor people’s lives just being over. One minute joyfully listening to the king’s speech, and the next...
“No,” she blurted out at his question asking if she needed a healer, instinctively pulling the shawl tighter around her and attempting to ignore the pain it caused. “I am alright, really. There are those in worse shape than I am.” Though Jack knew she would need to get herself checked out, she could not bear the thought that someone might see her as something less than perfect despite her current appearance. A little soap and water could fix her dirty face, but she knew there was something worse wrong with her. “But a rag for my face would be nice though.”
