Soulwoven

Chapter Forty-Nine

~49~

Cole Jin’s world smelled of damp needles and misty pines. His friends pressed close on either side of him. The sun broke through branches and high clouds above and set golden motes of dust shimmering in the air. A Sh’ma that could move faster than a striking hawk stood several yards in front of him, holding a hunting knife disdainfully by the handle.

But in that moment, all Cole cared about was Dil.

Her face pressed against his shoulder. Her nails dug furrows in his shirt and his skin. Her fingers clenched and tightened and squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed.

“It wasn’t my fault!” she screamed. “It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t my fault! Don’t—don’t hurt—”

Her words broke apart into sobs. Her legs dropped out from under her again, and Cole stood like a rock and held her up. Slowly, he began to grasp that the fear he’d seen in her eyes outside Lurathen was bursting forth all at once.

But he had no idea what to do about it.

“You are Wilderleng,” the Sh’ma said.

Cole put his hand on the back of Dil’s head and stroked her hair. Fresh tears washed over the scratches she’d given him.

“Please,” she whispered, “don’t let them hurt me—”

Cole pressed her closer to his chest.

“You have nothing to fear from us,” Quay said. He was facing the Sh’ma. One of his hands rested lightly on the hilts of his swords.

Dil took a deep, shuddering breath.

Quay glanced at Cole. Calm her down, his eyes said.

Cole walked Dil into the ravine they’d just crested.

Needles and wet duff stuck to his boots. He kept an arm around Dil’s shoulders, and for the first time in days, he really saw her—how tired she looked, and how scared her eyes were. As they walked, her breathing softened. She held onto him with her fingertips, rather than her nails.

But he could still feel the pain coursing through her with every beat of her small heart.

You don’t deserve her, said his mind.

Her hair glowed bright brown in the sunlight. It smelled like sweat, and dirt, and the wind, and water.

Cole leaned into it and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He would never forget the pain he’d felt. He’d left his mother without so much as a goodbye, and when he’d returned, he’d brought death to her doorstep. He didn’t think that he would ever get over that. He didn’t even know if he wanted to.

But for ten days, he’d treated Dil like a stranger, and she deserved so much more than that.

She stopped walking and pressed her forehead to his chest.

“For what?” she whispered.

Cole’s lips quivered. His chest tightened. He couldn’t breathe.

The sun glimmered through the branches above. The trees rustled around him. A brook babbled quietly at the ravine’s nadir. The world seemed so much bigger than he was—a vast, unfathomable network of people and stars and days and nights that had moved around him until he was walking under the right awning at the right moment to meet a girl who was nothing like him but perfect for him anyway, and his eyes were burning and his chest was bursting and his mother was dead—

“It’s okay,” Dil whispered.

—and he was leaning on her and crying, and crying, and crying, like he hadn’t even known he needed to.