Chris had run out of things to say to his brother. So they waited without speaking.
While Chris's silence was motionless, Joe's wandered. His footsteps may have been just a soft shuffling over loose grit and bare earth, but Chris could hear every one and wished they would stop.
Joe was pacing just behind the bars, pausing when soldiers would pass, sighing or groaning at ragged intervals, and undoubtedly anticipating every morbid detail of their fated execution.
Chris was on the ground, leaning against the wall. He stopped scoping out the enemy after the longest, broadest, sharpest sword he had ever seen passed by in the hands of a hooded, dark-cloaked figure, no doubt the Minister of Justice.
He let it all blur over, dim, and go black in a slow cycle. He didn't want to think or even move. He was exhausted. And everything hurt. Why should he waste his remaining energy?
"Well, that doesn't look good," Joe mumbled as if he had finally caught on and came to accept that they were about to die. He resumed pacing with one arm across his stomach and the other one propping up his chin.
Chris shrugged when their eyes met and figured it might be time to say good-bye, wish his brother luck in the next life.
But then Joe stopped midstride and grabbed the bars. He wedged his head between them enough to see along the corridor.
Chris heard what Joe must have seen. Metal was striking metal, and metal was piercing flesh.
Chris was quick to his feet. As he reached the bars, Andromeda's Crown Champions were charging past with their weapons drawn. Soon, they were at a standstill, their motion hindered by some unseen opposition.
No one was watching Chris and Joe anymore. And no longer worried about the repercussions, Joe magically began probing at the cell's ancient lock. A pop soon followed. They exchanged hopeful glances, and then Joe swung the barred door open. Chris followed Joe into the corridor, but he came to a dead stop while Joe ran on.
Cassie was there, repeating her actions from the day they had first escaped from the Aerial Palace, running from cell to cell, freeing the prisoners. Even in the bustling hallway, Chris noticed only her . . . until she was wrapped in Joe's embrace.
His hug lifted her off the ground. When Joe put her back down, he grasped her behind the neck and kissed her forehead. Then he kissed her again, on her lips.
An eternity could have passed between the start of that kiss and its finish.
When they broke apart, words poured from their mouths through a grin. The conversation eventually receded to nodding and a bit of pointing, and while Joe stayed behind with a cluster of rebels, she continued along the hallway, in Chris's direction.
He watched her every step, her subtle change of expression, the way her cloak fluttered as she moved closer and closer. She ended up stepping past him without acknowledging him in any way. Then she stopped in her tracks, turned back, pulled a sword from her pack, and tossed it to him.
It wasn't just any sword. It was his sword or, more appropriately, his father's sword, and she had somehow retrieved it for him. And saved it for him. She never said a word, though, and kept her eyes averted as she moved on.
Chris knew he deserved the chilly reception. He hadn't killed her, but for a moment he had wanted to. What could he possibly say to make up for that?
"I'm sorry!" Chris finally shouted, but it was like yelling for help in one of his nightmares. His voice did not pierce the noise or travel the distance. He would have to find another way to prove himself worthy of her forgiveness.
Joe then urged him forward with a slap on his shoulder. Chris envied his broad grin and wished he, too, could bring himself to smile.
⭐️⭐️⭐️
Skylar Grey. Love The Way You Lie.
~
"Even angels have their wicked schemes
And you take them to new extremes
But you'll always be my hero
Even though you've lost your mind. . ."