Sometime in the near-forgotten depths of his childhood, Val used to watch the sunset.
He isn't sure now what he liked most about it, isn't sure whether it was the riot of orange and red and yellow and gold that filled the sky, or the excitement of a day's end, or the look of the sun dipping into the ocean. He isn't sure of most things, these days. Like all mortal musings and memories, they seem to evade him.
A pair of intersecting strings in the weave twitch, pushed by an incoming force. Then the sounds come: the barest whisper of a delicate breath, the rustle of chiffon, the tinkling of fine jewelry.
"Rufina," Val begins. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I heard what happened to your substitute and his patrol group. I knew you'd come here to mull things over."
Something old and human kindles within him, a tiny flame against the cold that's quickly snuffed out. He turns his head, the shock of Rufina's red hair just visible in his periphery. She's a multicoloured sight, bold and brash against the toneless shade of the sand.
The weave surges in the corner of his eye. He steps away just as a wave rolls into the shore, covering the spot where he stood just a moment ago.
"You look lovely," he offers.
"You barely saw me."
He folds his gloved hands behind his back. "I could always take back my compliment."
Val thinks he hears Rufina huff.
"No. I'll keep it." She comes up beside him, two heads shorter, dressed in garish pink. "How's life as a Sentinel treating you?"
"It's tolerable. How's life as a socialite treating you?"
Rufina smiles, shell-pink lips stretching to accommodate her amusement. "It's horrible, Don Valentine. And..." Her smile falters. "It's lonely. I didn't think I'd miss Ramon so much until he was gone. To think that he got the chance to mingle with the third Vesennan prince- well, I'm a little offended too, now that I think about it."
"It won't be long until he's back."
"No," she agrees, staring off into the waves. "It won't be."
Val nods and begins to walk along the shoreline. Looming on a cliff at the end of the beach, many towers and spires gleaming in the waning light, is Solaris Palace. It hasn't changed in the eighteen years that Val has watched it from afar, still made of the same white stone, flying the same blue-and-silver flags. He recalls the smug knowledge of the alcoves and corridors in the palace that he used to possess; after all, his aunt had once been queen.
So there's been one change after all, then. Queen Tamsin Hanover is dead.
"Valentine! Gods, why do you always do this?" Rufina hurries after him, heeled shoes clutched tightly in her pale hands, bare feet marking the sand. "Don't walk off without me."
He makes room for her at his side, stepping towards the water to keep her on the dry sand. A few strands of her fiery hair have come loose of the careful chignon at the back of her head. She looks almost like the child she once was, with those large, luminescent green eyes and tousled scarlet hair.
That human part of him pushes against the rigid confines of his body again, warmer than before. Val looks away, hands tight behind his back.
"Have you heard?" she asks after a minute of silence. "About Rosalinda de Silva?"
"Our new queen."
"You don't like the news."
"I feel no particular way about it."
"I don't like it." Rufina frowns at the fine grains of sand that cover her feet. "That girl's not suited for life here in the capital. The other Houses will eat her up and spit her back out again."
"You've met her?"
"Yes. You have, too." A furtive glance is leveled in his direction. "On the night of your ninth birthday celebration."
Val's answer is quick. Prepared. "I don't remember."
"You don't remember a lot of things."
"I try not to remember that night."
"Yes," she murmurs. "I try not to, myself. It's just- sometimes I think about what would have happened if we didn't run. If we'd stayed with your mother that night."
"We might both be dead."
Rufina's arm nearly bumps his. "You might be right. Anyway," she continues, "Rosalinda de Silva doesn't belong on the throne. All she did was hang onto her father's coattails."
"She might have changed."
Rufina scoffs. "I don't believe that."
"Well, who do you think His Majesty should have chosen? You?"
"Me? No!" Rufina throws her head back, peals of laughter escaping her mouth. "We're cousins."
Val watches every moment of it, memorizing the angle at which her neck hangs while she giggles. He tracks the heaving of her chest. He stores the sound of her joy away for later. His heart thuds in his chest; he puts a gloved hand over it, trying to restrain whatever's infecting it with life.
"Still," she says, coming down from her high, "it should've been someone more capable. Someone who can withstand the harsh politics of Edeiran court. Someone who can hold their own beside King Miguel. Someone strong. Someone like... well, someone like your aunt."
Val pauses to witness a wave roll into the shore. It reaches farther than the others from before, nearly soaking his shoes. "High tide," he murmurs.
"I'm sorry." Rufina comes to his side again, letting the water rove over her sand-strewn feet. "I know it hurts you."
He shakes his head. "Nothing hurts me anymore."
"I don't believe that, Val." Her hand comes perilously close to touching his, and he jerks away. She frowns, but changes the subject. "I hope that girl never comes here. Nothing good will come of it."
"It's not up to us to decide whom he marries, Rufina," Val reminds her.
Her face twists. She stares out at the ocean, her emerald eyes narrow. "Can you keep a secret, Valentine?"
"As well as I can maintain a blank expression."
She raises her head, the ghost of a smile curving her lips, and the high summer breeze blows her fiery hair away from her heart-shaped face. Val's heard others call her divine. Beautiful. Heartstopping. The jewel of House Borja.
They're all wrong. She doesn't stop his heart. She starts it and makes him feel human all over again.
"I'm going to stop this wedding," she tells him. "I'll do whatever it takes."
Val takes in a breath. There she goes again, jolting his heart to life. He watches the strings of her that connect to the weave, watches how they never quaver or shake or curve. His maestro used to tell him that the truth was straight; that lies could never stop squirming.
"Why?" he asks.
"Because it can't happen." She turns to him, gaze fierce, clenching her pretty little fists. "I know things, Val, things that you can't possibly imagine-"
"It can't happen? That's not an excuse."
"It's not meant to be. If this wedding happens- if they marry each other-"
"Then what?" he prompts. "She'll be queen while you're left to wither away next to some elderly Duke for a husband?"
"I'm not going to let anyone give me away to an old man to rot. Are you insane? Val." She averts her eyes. "I was hoping you'd still want me. That we could... that we could be together."
"We can't."
"You asked me to marry you."
"When I was eight, Rufina. Things have changed."
"Val, I don't care if you can't even hold my hand. I'd rather be with you than anyone else when all of this is over."
"When all of this is over," he echoes. "What exactly are you planning to do to Rosalinda de Silva?"
"Anything to ensure she never marries King Miguel."
Val breathes in. Breathes out. Closes his eyes. Opens them.
"I need to telegraph Covigo."
"No!"
Rufina's hands reach out, taking his arm. He doesn't know why he didn't move away in time. He saw the twitches of her strings before she'd even moved, maybe even before she'd decided to move. But maybe he keeps hoping that things will be different. That one day, someone will touch him and it won't feel like flames. That one day, he can relish in human contact. That one day, Rufina can put her hands on him and he won't cower away.
Or maybe he just likes the pain because it's a reminder, because it's proof that they're connected. Joined. Proof that her fingers are wrapped tight around his forearm, tight enough to make him believe that she'll never let him go.
The pain ripples through him, at once both fire and ice. Gods, it shouldn't hurt this much. It shouldn't feel this wrong. She's touching him over his clothing, but it's like her hands are digging into pale, bare flesh, stripping away his skin and muscle until all that's left is bone.
"Rufina," he chokes out. "Let go."
"You can't tell them," she pleads, eyes wide. "You can't tell anyone! You promised me you'd keep this secret!"
With his free hand, he severs the connection between them, hitting her grip away with such force that she recoils, gasping, falling into the sand. The water rushes in, soaking the bottom of her bright pink dress, splashing her with seafoam.
"You haven't changed," he tells her, chest heaving. "I remember when I asked you to marry me. It was the night we ran. We were here, on this beach, and you said no to me. You said that you didn't want to be my wife. You wanted to be queen."
"But I don't want-"
"You're lying."
"Fine!" She slaps her hands down on the damp sand, leaving imprints of her fingers behind. "Fine, I do want it! I've always wanted it. I'm just- gods, Val, I'm not going to kill Rosalinda to put myself in power. What kind of girl do you think I am? I've told you that there are things I know, things that you can't even begin to understand-"
"Tell me these things, Rufina."
Her voice is small. "I can't."
"Tell me," he says, and he draws closer to her, the place where she touched him stinging like a real injury. "If you want me to keep this secret, then maybe you should let me in on it."
Her lips part. Her eyes water.
Then she shakes her head. "Do you remember that book we read together when we were children? The one written in Leis?"
Of course he remembers. Out of all the memories he's lost along with his humanity, this is the one that has stuck. He doesn't remember the sound of his own mother's laughter, can't recall the shade of her eyes. But somehow, he remembers that book.
"The Immortal Calls. I remember."
"Then you remember what it was about," whispers Rufina, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You remember the cost of revealing secrets."
"Basta," Val murmurs. "You don't want to tell me? That's fine." He turns on his heel, walking back the way he came.
"Valentine!" she calls, sobbing. "Valentine, Ramon's not coming back."
Val stops. He looks back at her. She's shivering, fingers digging into the sand.
"What do you mean, he's not coming back?"
"I told him." She lets out a harsh whimper, scrunching her eyes shut. "I told him what I knew, and they killed him. He's dead. My brother's dead."
Straight lines. Why? "But there were people who saw him getting on that train to Leisenstracht. They saw him leave. He wrote you letters when he left port. He telegraphed you when he got to South Vesenna."
Rufina opens her eyes, staring forward.
"I don't understand."
"I told you that you wouldn't."
He lets the waves roll in over his shoes this time, lets the water drench the bottoms of his trousers. He lets it happen over and over again, until he finally says, "I'm going to send a message to the king now that he's in Covigo." Before she can protest, he holds up a gloved hand. "I'm going to tell him that I've received word that Doña Rosalinda de Silva may be in danger, but I won't tell him about you. I don't know what you have planned, Rufina, but I'm not about to let an innocent girl die by your hand."
"Then you're stupid," Rufina hisses. "Whatever happens to her by my hand will be better than what happened to my brother."
"You know the pain of losing a loved one. How do you think her family will feel when you find a way to kill her?"
Rufina insists, "I'm saving them the pain!"
"Nothing you're saying makes sense."
"That's what Ramon said, and now he's dead." She shakes her head wildly. "I can't lose you too, Val."
"You won't." He sighs. "Since I don't know your secret, I'm safe, aren't I?"
Rufina doesn't nod. She only watches him.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," he promises her. "And when it's all over..." He trails off. When it's all over. He's not sure of that, himself. "Just stay safe."
"I'll try," she breathes.
He inclines his head and begins to walk. The waves pound at the sand five times. Ten times. Twenty times.
A pair of strings twitch in the weave. They push forward. Slowly but surely, Rufina comes to his side once more, quiet, never speaking.
They let the silence drown them.