“You are doing all right then?”

Fiera closed the thick hardcover in her hands, glad for an excuse not to look at blurry, hard to make out words.

It had been around a day since Rose had woken up, and Fiera was now off her laundry duty so she could do Aaron’s work. Aaron had decided to assign her readings to help her understand their country better, and he didn’t seem to approve of her protests that she would remember things more clearly if he just told them to her.

“Perfectly so,” Fiera murmured. “He won’t be around me for a while.”

She was referring to the Master of Shadows, glad that he wouldn’t be visiting her as often and hope that she wouldn’t be forced to spill more blood. Although Rose didn’t know the deeper details of Fiera’s relationship with that walking sinful half-god, or his real identity, she knew enough not to raise unnecessary questions.

“Is that a good thing?” Rose straightened the blanket a little.

“I think so. And that reminds me,” Fiera continued, “Let me know when you’re allowed to leave this place. There are a few people you should like to meet.” She was thinking about Kai, a fellow Water-Practitioner. Surely, Water-Practitioners are comfortable with Water-Practitioners, just as she felt more comfortable around Aaron and Zare. Rose smiled at her suggestion and gave a half-nod.

Then they fell quiet.

It was not the kind of silence you can enjoy, like wine, ruminating over the existence of another person, nor was it the comfortable after-silence of pure bliss. It was an awkward silence, and as it grew louder, Fiera wondered if she should pretend to read.

Aside from the fact that they had no option but to travel together for the last three or so months, they weren’t especially close with each other. But she was the closest to a friend her age Fiera had ever had, and she suspected that Rose was in a similar situation, which was why she didn’t question it more than a Water-Practitioner girl begged for protection from a mongrel.

“Fiera,” Rose said, and Fiera found herself noting again how pretty her eyes were, “Do you remember the night I met you?”

“Yes.” Fiera wondered if Rose was thinking about ending their association, now that she had a better opportunity to be with normal practitioners of her age. To be fair, that would be the best choice for both of them. Although they were unwelcome guests in each other’s matters, a clean resolution would be beneficial & perhaps, a little necessary.

“That night,” Rose said, “I was hoping, with every step that I took, to just die.”

Rose had never really explained why she had been near the river, all alone, at the brink of her death when Fiera had stumbled upon her, caught up in a runaway story of her own. And they both struck up a mutual allyship, for Rose knew how to leave, and Fiera had the means to leave.

“Rose,” Fiera whispered.

“But a voice inside insisted that I don’t give up, and that voice led me to you.” Rose continued, clasping her hands together.

“Was that a good thing?” Fiera asked.

“Why did you help me, Fiera?” Rose asked.

They stared at each other quietly, Fiera, half wondering why it took three months for her to ask the question. Still, she supposed it must be because they were fighting to survive, and their primary concern was survival, not insightfully painful questions.

“Tell me,” Rose said, and Fiera struggled to arrange the narrative in her head. She knew that some parts of her guilt were better off with herself, and some parts of her thought processes must be lies. She stared at the book in her hand, not really seeing it and mentally pulled herself together with a sigh.

“Anyone would have helped you, Rose.” Fiera said, making a mental note to make a mental note of another lie to another person, “It was common courtesy.”

Rose looked at her for a moment longer than Fiera was comfortable with and lowered her gaze.

“Really?” Her voice cracked, and Fiera resisted the urge to say more than necessary.

“Yes. I am,” Fiera paused, “I am just trying my best to be a decent human, Rose. Of course, any decent human would have helped you.” She wasn’t exactly lying here; after all, that was what she believed. But it wasn’t entirely true that it was for decency she had decided to stick with Rose. It was far deeper than that, and perhaps, far too terrible to be termed goodness of heart.

“You just wanted to help me out then,” Rose looked relieved.

Because the reason Fiera assisted Rose, stuck by her, protected her, and suffered so much for her, was one of the most familiar of human emotions.

“Yes,” Fiera smiled.

Guilt.

Her actions were only justifiable because of the guilt she bore.

Fiera Celosis had killed a man.