Falls

The bitter irony of the broken attempting to mend the broken was not lost on Sabriel while she waited, scarcely daring to breathe in the seconds that followed her plea. She could feel her companion’s reluctance in the weight of his silence, could recognize his doubts in the way that they reflected her own. And in a way, his answer was important to her as much for that echo of what she’d become as it was for her inability to witness his pain. If— if this stallion could find peace amidst the raw ache of his grief, then perhaps someday she might find it, too. And if he couldn’t— if he declared here and now that his past was beyond forgiveness— then the dark woman would know not to waste another day on hope or regret. She would wait for him to leave her, and slip back into the pool’s frigid, numbing embrace.

I want to promise you I won’t… Sabriel finally stirred, the curve of her belly lifting gently as she sucked in a ragged breath. It shouldn’t have hurt so much, hearing the no concealed within those words. He should be nothing to her, and she to him; they were only strangers sharing a fleeting moment together for warmth. But— but somehow, in a short time, the cremello male had come to represent all the things that she’d sought in coming here. Hope. Happiness. Peace. And the denial that the slender mare heard in his voice, that she saw in his eyes, snatched all those things beyond her reach. Shuttering her eyes against the fading light of the stars and these truths, she let the air push itself from her lungs in a soft sound of surrender.

But… I’ll try.

Her eyes flew open in time to welcome his again, uncertainty etched into every line of her expression. Sabriel didn’t know if she could trust what she’d thought she heard; not until it was repeated. I’ll try to forgive myself, for you. Slowly, hesitantly, her ears crept forward from the pale seaweed-tangles of her mane. And then slowly, gently, she stretched forward to brush her lips across the line of his. “Thank you,” she murmured into the soft pink skin, the fervency of those two words turning them into a prayer. Though the tight cage of her ribs had eased only slightly with his promise, even that small relief left her feeling light-headed and giddy. Pulling away, the silver black laughed a single, breathless note— and note that died all too quickly.

Come to me. The impact of those words was as powerful as the kick Cullen had landed on her belly so long ago— the same blow that had sealed Uriah’s fate. Struggling to breathe, Sabriel could only remain frozen when her companion kissed the damp flesh of her cheek (tears or water, she didn’t know; not anymore). Come to me, he repeated as she felt warmth bloom beneath her skin, and a chill seep down her spine. Without knowing its source, Sabriel recognized the feeling as fear. She’d sworn to exchange a promise for a promise, but— but she couldn’t. Not this. But even as the denial rose to her lips, the ivory continued, releasing her from her shackles. When you need someone—

And… oh. This much she could promise, if only because it could not hurt him. After they left here, who could say how much time would pass before the darkness of her grief claimed her again? Perhaps, if she tried— perhaps it never would. She would run and laugh and pretend with Rafe, and hold herself as far away from this stranger and his peace as she could. Finding strength in that decision, Sabriel nodded even as her throat tightened at the thought of never seeing the pale stallion again. “I— I promise.” She answered. And then, because it felt not enough, “If I need you, Zevulun, I’ll find you. Just know that— know that you can come to me, too. If… if you need me, you only need to seek out Sabriel in the Badlands.”

After everything they’d shared, revealing her name and her home should not have felt like too much, but it did. It did, and— once spoken— there was no taking those things back. Sabriel could only hope that Zevulun would hold to his vow; that he wouldn’t fight for her unless she asked.

That he would leave her to Rafe's false peace, and find his own in truth.