Page 66 of City of Stone and Silence

The harsh scent of the stuff goes through my sinuses like a crossbow bolt, and I barely manage to take a pull. It burns my throat on the way down, too, but somehow turns warm as it hits my stomach, spreading out through my body like a cloud. Garo takes the bottle back, swallows a bit himself, and sets it aside.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess. You don’t have to … do all this.”

“You’d rather I abandoned you in the street?”

“I’d be fine,” I insist.

“Maybe.” He grabs the sleeping mat and unrolls it. “But you wouldn’t have left me, would you?”

“That’s different.”

“Of course.” He pats the mat. “Lie down. You need rest.”

Lying down seems, suddenly, like an extremely good idea. I crawl across the room and roll awkwardly onto the mat, while Garo settles himself beside me, legs crossed.

But everything is still waiting for me when I close my eyes. Isoka in a dungeon, throwing herself at the bars like a caged animal. Isoka burning on a pyre. My sister, the one I owe everything to, dead, dead, dead, dying in a hundred ways, torn away from me.

Don’t leave me behind. I remember a night, hungry and cold, watching her stare at a knife and not caring what she did, as long as she didn’t go without me.

I feel Garo’s hands on my shoulders, calm and warm, and realize I’m gasping for breath like I’ve just sprinted a mile. My eyes pop open, and he’s looking down at me, hair falling around his face.

“It’s all right,” he says, very quietly. “It’ll be all right.”

It won’t be. But it’s nice to hear him say it. And then it strikes me how close he is, and how we’re alone, a single room in a cheap inn. My skin pebbles to goose bumps, and my cheeks flush.

Idiot, something in my mind admonishes. Isoka’s captured, maybe gone forever, and you’re thinking about … boys, is that it? But some combination of alcohol and emotional backwash seems to be drowning that voice out. If Isoka’s gone …

I won’t think about it.

Garo is giving me a strange look.

“Garo?”

“Hmm?” he says.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

It pops out, before I can think about it. Which is good, because if I’d thought about it I never would have said it. Garo’s jaw tightens, and he swallows hard. There’s a long pause.

“Very much,” he says, his voice tight.

“You can.” My heart beats triple-time. “If you want to.”

“Tori…” He runs a hand across my forehead, pushing my hair aside.

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not.” He lets out a deep breath. “Not like this.” Garo smiles, a little sad. “Go to sleep.”

When I open my eyes, they’re crusted with dried tears, and it tastes as though something has died on my tongue.

Daylight is coming in through the tiny window, revealing the cracked plaster walls and fraying floor mats of the little room. I’m lying on my side, curled up on the sleeping mat, my joints stiff. It takes me a moment to raise my head and rub the crumbs from my eyes. Garo is at the other end of the room, sitting propped against the door, his head tipped backward, emitting faint snores.

Memory returns in bits and pieces, a little fuzzy. I feel acid churning in my stomach, but in the cooler light of day some calm has returned. I go over what Thul said, piece by piece, and try to think.

Then I look at Garo again. Blessed above. Did I really ask him … My blush returns with a vengeance. Oh, Blessed One. How am I supposed to talk to him now?

He gives a snort and wakes up, shaking his head. I sit up, pulling my knees close in front of me. Garo blinks and looks around.