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Was that what putting the cause first looked like? Was that what putting their mission, their work, and his leadership first looked like? Brawling with a comrade so that he could throw himself away for one man? He had prioritized one man over all of them, and the shame of it clogged his throat with bitterness.
He had always known Sebastian was dangerous for him. This was why he had always hated how Sebastian made him feel, the strength of it, the pull. And when they had been together… Leon squeezed his eyes shut. Whether to try to hold the memory back or to savor it more clearly, he wasn’t sure. The bright eagerness in Sebastian’s eyes, the give and obedience, the feelings of confidence and certainty and tenderness… He should have known something that felt so indescribably good would be so terrible for him.
He opened his eyes and met the gaze of one of his men. The slightly built man looked at him with quizzical eyes through rectangular glasses. The doctor. M…something. M something, Max something? Leon couldn’t remember. He remembered he was damn good at his job, though. And had stayed until the last ship despite not at all having the look of a fighter.
Leon nodded at him respectfully, and the man nodded quickly back and then looked away. Leon dragged his eyes around to the rest of them. None of them seemed to be looking at him or pointedly not looking at him. He wondered how much they had seen of his display, and he wondered what the men who had seen it would tell the others.
There were a few ways it could be spun: that he was a heartsick fool that cared only about his single torvar soldier was one, but that he had been as mad with fury and grief over their loss and the loss of their men as any of them was another. And either way, he had seen reason—had had to see it with Mal’ik’s arm around his neck, but he had seen it either way.
But he doubted anyone had the energy or the inclination to analyze such things right now. Least of all him.
They soared out of Kaston’s perimeter, the sounds of gunfire and explosions fading away, their ship steadying as it ceased evasive maneuverers. Leaving Kaston to the Klah’Eel before they’d even gotten a chance to defend it.
Chapter Six
The mood of their escape ship had lifted by the time they flew over Ralscoln. They had all sat quietly with their feelings enough, and while the loss was discouraging, the evacuation had mostly been a success. The Klah’Eel were advancing, and they had lost Kaston, but they had not lost so very many men. Losing the men at Kaston’s headquarters was a blow but not a death knell.
If only Leon could get his chest to understand that. It still felt as tight as when Mal’ik had been crushing him whenever he thought of Sebastian. Which had been the whole damn flight.
They landed in the capitol’s courtyard with a soft thud, and the doors hissed open. Squished to the side as they were, Leon, Martha, and Mal’ik let most of the men out before following them in single file.
The setting sun blinded Leon for just a moment as he stepped out, and then his vision cleared, and he saw Joan and Oliver Turner standing under the arcade in front of him. Joan looked grim, but that was to be expected, and Turner looked as though he was carved from marble.
As Leon watched, though, he saw Turner’s whole body twitch, and then he started striding over imperiously. For a moment, Leon was taken aback, being advanced on in such a way, but then Mal’ik brushed past him. Turner’s proud stride broke into a run, his face collapsed into utter relief, and he flung himself into Mal’ik’s arms.
Mal’ik wrapped his arms around him, and Turner all but disappeared into his bulk.
“I’m fine. I’m—”
“I know you’re fine.” Turner’s snap could barely be heard, muffled as it was in Mal’ik’s chest. “I can see you’re fine. I just—”
Turner cut himself off with an angry sound, and Mal’ik chuckled and kissed the top of his head. He whispered into Turner’s ear, and it was only because Leon was still so close, frozen to the spot, that he could hear what he said. “I love you too.”
Leon watched them with an empty, sinking feeling that flared into something hot and angry.
As soon as he realized that burning feeling was jealousy, he spun on his heel and stormed away. What a stupid feeling. And besides, even if he and Sebastian were together, Sebastian would never fling himself into Leon’s arms like a damsel like Turner had done. Ridiculous.
Leon’s steps faltered, and he nearly fell to the ground before catching himself against the wall.
Sebastian wasn’t going to fling himself anywhere because he….
Leon stared down, unseeing at the elegant molding along the bottom of the wall. Sebastian couldn’t be dead. Not dead, not Sebastian, not after everything he’d done and everywhere Leon had sent him. One mistake by Leon and he was dead?
No, he was only—
“Hess, we should talk.” Joan’s voice broke into Leon’s spiraling thoughts, and he straightened up quickly and turned to her. She closed her mouth as soon as she saw him and frowned. “But maybe you should get some rest first.”
“What do we need to talk about, Joan?”
“Just…the usual.” She continued to hesitate, and Leon turned to face her fully with the sternest glare he could manage. She sighed. “I need confirmation on which city to fall back to next.”
“Libha. But confirm with Captain Mal’ik as well. Have you found a scientist for us yet? For the gas?”
“I think we’ve about got the Carta Cartel to agree to a sit down with us. They’re considering lending us one of theirs.” Joan dropped her data tablet to her side and bit her lip. “Is that what happened at Kaston? The gas?”
“It looks that way.”
“I thought Sebastian—”
