Page 163 of Carousel

Out of the corner of my mouth, I say to Drake, in Rhavnan, “Let’s get him out. Right now.”

I even go to take Drake’s hand.

But he lifts it out of my reach.

He says, resolutely, in Rhavnan, “That won’t be possible. Look at him. Look at the other prisoners, who are spectating us.”

Cosmer has stopped laughing. The sudden silence is deafening.

I look down at him.

“No,” is all he says to me, face straight.

“No, what?”

Cosmer staggers to his feet, grasping the grate to support himself.

“I know what you’re planning to do,” he mutters, voice wavering. “And the answer is no. Don’t risk yourself for me. I’m staying right here. On this ship. Where I can be near you. Even if it means being in here longer.”

Cosmer’s moment of lucidness has passed. He sways on the spot, then turns away. I get the feeling he no longer even knows I’m here. I watch him climb back onto the poor excuse for a bed.

My brow furrows. “Cosmer—” I say.

“Let’s go,” Drake says, already moving.

And I realise.

“You made him go to sleep.” I sound calm for someone in shock.

“Because we need to leave,” Drake replies. “Right now.”

I want to scream at him.

But maybe he’s right. I take a step after him.

I stop.

I turn back to Cosmer. Tell the bony back of him, with resolve, “I’m going to fix this.”

Because maybe I can.

I step up to the grate again. Clutch it once more.

Shutting my eyes, I find the light in me. Draw it into my body. My head hums pleasantly as I think of him. How strong he is. How much he loves me. How much I love him.

I think of him then, as a boy. I think of him now, as a man. The cheekbones and crooked smile he’s had in every version of him, that I could kiss forever.

I gather those thoughts like welcoming an embrace. Then – slowly, as if I could move them the way a gust of wind ushers the clouds – I push the thoughts through the grate, into his cell, and over to his own mind.

I hold them out for him like an offering of love. Like flowers.

An offering of peace. Like a white flag.

In my mind’s eye, I say to him, I want you to fight the osimidite.

Drake’s voice is sharp. Distracting.

“What are you doing?”