hand

Agarma

After Claire drew me a bath, made me tea, treated my wounds, took inventory, offered herself to me (declined), and wrote up multiple draft statements to explain to the academy board what had transpired…

A lesser man would exist in that state forever.

“How far did you get?” I said.

“Sir?” We were clothed, lying on the blankets on my bed. She held my right hand, tightly. My eyes were closed.

“The worldribbon, Claire. How far did you get before it froze?”

A pause which pitted my stomach, She whimpered: “Not very far, sir.” She kept holding on.

“Samantha wasn’t to die so early,” I said.

Again, she whimpered: “I thought as much, sir. It didn’t make sense, sir. I didn’t see how anyone would benefit. Callister wouldn’t have allowed it.” But she kept holding.

“She was to study for two years, but her temperament would’ve inevitably required putting her down, as she grew incompatible with our vision for the country.”

“The vision was churlish, sir.”

I’d broken her. “But she kidnapped Whiteclaw, and hit that man, and got arrested. I saw that bucket, and afterwards I just thought, how cruel is it to let her go, to inevitably need to kill her. She’d be in another cell, of her own making, without even knowing, and keep filling up buckets.”

Silence.

“Please keep holding my hand,” I said.

Silence. No more bleeding.

“I’m going to nap,” I said. “We’ll determine what needs to be done afterwards. What I tell the council.”

“Why am I here?” she said. “If you won’t listen.”

All I could say was, “I’m sorry.” And then, “I will.”

I don’t think she knew if I meant it, nor did I, but she kept holding.

“You didn’t propose,” said Claire. “I thought you’d propose.”

They laid in silence holding hands for a long time.