Sunbroken

Chapter 27

Djuna

We didn't dare to start a fire for fear that the Empyreans would see the smoke, but as the fitful night progresses, my weakened body longs for the heat. It's the beginning of the first month, Wreinn, so the spring nights haven't warmed yet.

I feel...rejuvenated. Simultaneously, though, I know something is wrong. Something is missing.

My eyes crack open, swollen from too little sleep. My side aches, but not as much as I had expected.

My lungs feel like they're stuffed with foam. My chest shudders when I inhale.

Two memories, one clear and one distorted, spring to the front of my mind.

Clear, the feeling of Ezio's warm fingers on my skin. The spearmint, earthy scent of him as he leaned close and helped me. Only Reimha knows why he was so insistent on my avoiding infection. On dressing the wound himself. I wouldn't have done such a masterful job, I'm quite sure. I wonder where he learned the skill.

Distorted...I see a blur of Namiko's anguished face. Tears. Muddled whispers. I'm sorry.

I sit up straight, a slight twinge being the only acknowledgement from my wound. My nerves are on edge. I take inventory of my surroundings. It's quiet. Too quiet.

The sunlight is the first thing that tips me off. It shines directly above my head, erasing my shadow. The clouds are sparse; Mount Aqul's snow-tipped point gouges an arrow shape into the vibrant blue sky.

The second thing that sets my instincts caterwauling is Ezio. He's sprawled beside me. Snoring. His leg is hooked through mine. I tuck my knees to my chin as soon as I realize, though a part of me is angry at myself for doing so.

Ezio's curls flop backwards, his skin gold in the light. The steep line of his jaw could carve out hearts. His fluffy brows are shaped into flat triangles with the point at the arch, and I can see the line in his cheek from his near-constant smirk. With him so still and vulnerable, I can make out the tip of a scar protruding from beneath his collar onto his neck. I...I need to know what that is.

My hands are so close, fingers reaching, fabric tantalizingly close, when his lashes flutter open.

"Ah, Juju," he murmurs, lips stretching into a thin crescent. "Good to know I'm still alluring."

Panic bursts in my chest. "Oh. That is generous." I scoff, fisting my hands at my side. What are you doing? Wasting your time on a bleeding Griffari when you haven't even come to terms with Siridean's death?

My inner thoughts ring true, making my thick breath halt in my throat. I've moved past his death without giving myself any opportunity to accept it. I barely even let myself think about it, much less discuss it with someone else. The event feels like a monster in a circular maze. I keep running past it, but as long as I'm stuck in the circle, it will keep resurfacing. Not until I defeat the monster--my guilt and pain and heartbreak--will I be able to escape the loop.

Ezio's casual manner irks me. I shake his shoulder. "Get up--right this moment. Something's wrong."

Too little vichya surrounds us. Missing, missing...oh. No, no...

Ezio props himself up on his elbow, frowning. "What is it?"

My chest heaves. "I slept until noon."

His stormy eyes glitter. "So you're mad you're not tired anymore?"

"No--no, halfwit, I'm glad to be well-rested. I slept until noon. My body clock has woken me up an hour before sunrise every morning since I was five years old. For training. Stamina."