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If there was one person Druig hated in his whole existence thus far, it was King Arthur.
He didn’t do anything per say, other than be a kingly pain in Druig’s ass. He had his moments of arrogance and humility, stubbornness and cooperativeness, when he was stern and then humorous; times where he was so very human. But that wasn’t why Druig hated him.
No, he hated him because Makkari loved him.
Had she come out and actually said that she loved him? No, but Druig saw the way she looked at him, at the way she lit up when Arthur came into the room. How could he miss it? Those were the times she was magnificent, and isn’t that what love is supposed to do to a person? She certainly didn’t look that way at him, at least not that he’d noticed, and not that she was supposed to. Of course Druig wanted nothing more, but you can’t force love.
So he hated Arthur. He hated that the king could make Makkari feel what Druig had wanted to make her feel for centuries. What he’d tried to make her feel.
They’d fallen in with Arthur’s court a couple months prior, interested in seeing how he handled ruling a kingdom with the threat of another. The Saxons were wreaking havoc along the coast, and with them, the Deviants. They were the reason the Eternals found themselves there, but living court life had excited the others.
Thena was living her best life training with the knights, and Phastos had disappeared early on with Merlin doing Arishem knows what. The others sort of floated about, enjoying the gardens and the people.
Druig found himself charmed with the library, holing up in the high tower with a stack of books he’d finish by nightfall. From up in his tower, he could observe the goings-on below him, and when he wasn’t reading he was people-watching. Sprite had told him it was “weird”, but he found it relaxing to see the humans evolving, working together to improve their meager lives.
It was also how he’d noticed the extra time Makkari was spending with Arthur. All their strolls through the city, the gentle touches, the secretiveness. The others may not have seen it, but he did.
Not that he was particularly watching over her.
The Deviants would try to attack the walls of Camelot, but Gilgamesh, Kingo, and Makkari were always ready and willing to hold them off. Ikaris, when he wasn’t wooing Sersi, would often help. Druig and Sersi would calm the masses, Sprite entertaining the children with bright displays of horses and drums, beating to the noise of the fighting.
He wasn’t overall impressed by court life like the others. He wasn’t one for flashy balls and dazzling outfits, of grand speeches and playing the game of kings. Watching Arthur entertain foreign diplomats or royals often exhausted Druig. They were all so arrogant, as if their shit didn’t stink like the commoners’.
That was one thing he’d give Arthur. He never acted any better than his people. He knew when he was supposed to be their king, and when he was able to be their friend. He was a true born leader, and his people would follow not because they had to, but because they loved him.
It was Sprite who’d told him about the upcoming ball Arthur was hosting. She’d said what it was for, but he only ever half listened to what Sprite said. She had come to the top of his tower, as she often did, and sat with him for longer than he’d wanted. Still, he bit his tongue. She was lonely, something he knew all too well, and he wouldn’t be the one to turn away someone who needed the barest bit of company.
“A ball?” He’d repeated, watching as the people bustled about below, going about their business.
“Yeah, you know, like dancing and food?” She sat across from him, cross-legged on the open ledge, “Things normal people do.”
He glanced over the top of his book at her, “Define normal.”
She matched his look, “Are you even going to go?”
“Why? Want me to ask you to be my date?” He asked smugly, “Sweep you off your feet and twirl you around?”
“No.” She wrinkled her nose, picking at the orange she’d brought with her.
“Right. That’s reserved for Ikaris.”
“No!” Her face turned bright red, “I was just asking because you never go to anything other than the dinners Arthur hosts.”
“Can you blame me?” He stared at his book, “It’s insufferable. I’m not here to play courtesan.”
“I never would have guessed.” Sprite muttered, “Would it kill you to be sociable for once?”
“Absolutely.”
She rolled her eyes, “It’ll be fun. At the very least you can drink in the corner and make sure no Deviants show up.”
His lips quirked as he glanced at her, “Drinking in the corner sounds like my specialty.”
Sprite had been right, Druig really didn’t like going to anything other than Arthur’s dinners. There was only one reason for that, after all.
With the title of King, comes the target on your back, and Arthur was no exception. He’d already been attacked by assassins, luckily coming out unscathed. One thing no one could control, though, was the threat of poison, and apparently Druig was the only one suspicious of this. Arthur was always brought his drinks, poured for him in the kitchens or served from pitchers designated only for him.
Druig knew that if Arthur drank poison, he’d die. His mortal body wouldn’t protect him from anything, and he’d be gone before anyone could blink. However, if Druig were the one to ingest the poison meant for Arthur, his enhanced body would dampen the effects. He also knew that Ajak would heal him because it was him. She wouldn’t heal Arthur, because that would be interfering in the human’s lives, and that was forbidden.
And if Arthur died, Makkari would be sad, and Druig would fight a thousand armies alone if it meant Makkari would be happy. So, instead of fighting a thousand armies, Druig intercepted the chalices meant for the king, making sure he got one meant for another guest. He was always discrete about his mind control of the servants, lest Ajak catch on to his doings. Thankfully, he’d never run into any sort of poison. Yet.
On the night of the ball Sprite had all but begged him to go to, Druig dressed in a nice white shirt with a neck scarf, and black and silver embroidered jacket. It was all too much, but he had to at least try to make an effort to fit into this court. Arishem only knew how long they’d be there.
The party was in full swing when he arrived, heading straight for the hors d’oeuvres table. To his relief, Makkari was already there, looking like a vision in red. Her dark hair was pulled up on top of her head, and she wore a crimson ballgown. The top was adorned with lace, and the bottom fell in waves to the ground, swishing as she walked. She never failed to take his breath away, but today he felt he would never breathe again.
She beamed when she saw him approaching, holding a heaping plate of food. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, pointing to her food.
“Save some for the rest of us, will you?”
Makkari rolled her eyes, There won’t be any left now that you’re here.
He chuckled, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he picked something off her plate, “How long have you been here?”
She squinted as she thought about it, An hour or so?
“What about the others?”
I’ve seen Gilgamesh and Thena. Ikaris and Sersi are out dancing, but I haven’t seen Sprite. Phastos is still with Merlin I think.
He only hummed in amusement as they shuffled off to the side for others to grab refreshments. As someone handed him a cup of wine, he was suddenly reminded why he came in the first place.
“How about King Arthur?” He asked.
I was with him for a while, but he’s sitting up on the throne with Ajak. She motioned with her head, and Druig followed her gaze. Sure enough, Arthur was seated on his throne, having what looked like a pleasant conversation with the leader of the Eternals. Thankfully, he didn’t have a drink in his hand.
They stood together in a comfortable silence, watching as couples floated around the ballroom. Sersi and Ikaris were among them, Sersi in an angelic white gown, and Ikaris in his signature blue. They were smiling and laughing, looking every bit as in love as they were.
Druig glanced down at Makkari again, who was staring longingly at the dance floor.
Before he could think better of it, he held out his hand to her. She looked up at him with her eyebrows pulled together, but took his hand without second thought.
“Dance with me.” He said.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and a shocked smile etched its way across her face, You want to dance?
“Is that so hard to believe?”
Who are you and what have you done with Druig? She joked, but let him lead her to the edge of the dance floor. A song was just coming to an end, and when the next started, he pulled her into the fray.
Much like Ikaris and Sersi, they spun around the floor to match the song, steps light and precise. Neither of them were exactly good at dancing, but they’d observed enough not to flounder. Makkari gripped him tightly as they went, his own hands fumbling as he wrapped his mind around the fact that he was dancing with her.
His shadows basked in her light.
It was exhilarating moving between so many people, losing his breath little by little as the musicians kept up their relentless playing. But he couldn’t find himself able to stop, not while Makkari was smiling the way she was. This was what she loved, being in the middle of so much joy and not having to stop. Druig was just happy for the momentary pause in their serious lives, to be able to let go and have fun. To just share a dance with the woman he so desperately loved.
Finally, the musicians transitioned into a slow song, giving the dancers a break from the upbeat ones from before. Chest heaving, Makkari slipped her left hand into Druig’s, her other sliding over his shoulder as his own hand found her hip.
She was still grinning a few moments later, letting him go to say, You look worn out already.
“Already?” He exhaled, “We just ran miles around the great hall.”
Amateur. She scoffed.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not really the athletic type.” He said, shuffling on his feet to turn her, “Not all of us run one earth lap as their morning routine.”
Two earth laps, give me some credit. She joked.
He laughed, both of them falling into silence as the music took them further and further around the floor. No matter how much he wanted to look where he was going, he just couldn’t be bothered to take his eyes off of Makkari.
“You look beautiful.”
She met his eyes, and he had to try not to wince when he realized he said it out loud. With a small smile, she said, You don’t look half bad, yourself.
They held each other’s gazes, and Makkari’s grip on his shoulder tightened just slightly. In the lighting of the room, her dark eyes glowed, and Druig found himself bewitched by them, as if she were the one controlling his mind. He would gladly fall under her spell, give into her every whim. Right there and now, he would give her his soul and nothing less.
The music came to an end, and Makkari drug him off the floor. They both leaned against the windowsill, taking in the cool night air. He knew she did this mostly for his benefit, she could have gone all night without any breaks.
Eventually the others caught up with them, even Sprite, who seemed to find the thought of Druig dancing incomprehensible.
“It’s true, I saw it with my own eyes.” Gilgamesh said, pointing to his own eyes.
Druig was about to say something sarcastic, when he caught sight of a servant making her way through the crowd with a tray of chalices. People would pick one off here and there, but there was one she guarded in her free hand. She was headed towards Arthur, but not without passing by the Eternals first.
Doing his best to be discrete, he looked out the window as he entered the servant’s mind, commanding her to bring him the chalice meant for the king. She did as he told her to, handing him the cup she had been careful no one else took. He thanked her in formality, watching as Kingo grabbed another.
Gilgamesh was about to grab the last, but she shook her head, “Sorry sir, this is for the king. More will be along soon.”
Druig smiled smugly as he took a sip of the wine and received a dirty look from Gil. It didn’t taste any different than usual, so he took a deeper swig.
“How many Deviants are left in this area?” Sersi was asking, “Surely there can’t be that many.”
Ikaris shook his head, “Ajak said they’re dwindling. My guess is one more month and we’ll be moving on.”
“Shame.” Thena said, “I quite like it here.”
“You like it because you get to spar with the knights.” Sprite muttered.
A simple smile crossed over Thena’s features, “Yes.”
I could get used to living in a castle. Makkari said from her perch on the window, The beds are nicer than the Domo.
“I hear you there.” Kingo rubbed his lower back, “I sleep like a baby here.”
Despite feeling like the odd one out in their group sometimes, Druig liked to hear their lighthearted conversations. He liked to hear them talk about trivial things, not about the Deviants or their mission or Arishem.
He liked to hear them talk about the castle being more comfortable than the Domo, about how Sprite couldn’t believe Druig was actually dancing, about how Giglamesh was going to drink them out of wine that night, how their feet would hurt in the morning. Trivial things that didn’t matter. That’s what Druig liked. To hear his friends having fun, rather than worry about the weight on their shoulders. Despite liking to keep to himself, at that moment Druig could have stood there and bantered with them all night.
He didn’t even realize the chalice had slipped out of his hand until it was loudly clattering against the marble floor, the red wine spreading across the smooth surface. He looked down at it in confusion, frowning as a different shade of red dripped into the wine. It was more crimson, more thick.
Blood.
Touching his fingers to his nose, he pulled them away to find that they were coated in it. Copper and iron assaulted his tongue.
“Druig?” Kingo sounded concerned, but he seemed so far away.
His legs suddenly gave out on him, and he fell to his knees before he could stop himself. Thena caught him before he could slump to the side, and he felt himself gasping for air, but none would come. His throat was closing up, chest tightening. The feeling made him cough—no, he was choking. Blood was in his throat, clogging his ability to breathe.
They were shouting, his friends were shouting but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the pounding in his ears. He balled a hand in his shirt, as if clawing at it would help him breathe. But he had to tell them, he had to tell them something.
Clutching Thena’s shoulder, he coughed and was aware of something wet bubbling out of his mouth, but it gave him enough time to rasp, “The king has been poisoned.”
Thena stared down at him for a beat, and then pointed toward the throne and shouted something. Gentle hands touched his face, and the last thing Druig saw before the darkness overcame him, was Makkari’s eyes pleading with him to stay awake.
“Protect the King!” Thena shouted, the knights lining the walls jumping into action. Arthur was already crossing the room toward them, his own chalice still in hand. Gilgamesh slapped it out of his grasp, and it hit the floor in the same commotion as Druig’s.
“What is the meaning of this?” Arthur asked as his knights surrounded him, Ajak at his side with wide eyes as soon as she saw Druig.
“He’s been poisoned.” Sersi said, one hand on Druig’s forehead as his body convulsed, “He said you have been, too. Did you drink out of the cup, your highness?”
Arthur stared down at the chalice he’d been holding, “I did, yes.”
“How are you feeling?” Ajak asked, putting a hand on his upper arm.
“I-I’m fine.” Arthur was staring down at Druig, “We have to…where’s Merlin?” He whipped around, looking around the room with wild eyes, “Someone get Merlin, now!”
A knight ran out of the room, the rest of the ballroom having fallen to silence sometime after the commotion.
Makkari’s hands were shaking as she knelt next to Sersi, watching as Druig shook violently, blood and foam spilling from his mouth. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head, and he gasped for breath. She didn’t think he was conscious anymore, but that made it all the more terrifying.
Thena was holding him firmly but gently, making sure his hands were secured so he couldn’t claw at himself like he’d already started to. Glancing up, she said sternly, “Ajak.”
“We have to get him to the infirmary.” Sersi was climbing to her feet, motioning for the rest of them to help.
Gilgamesh and Ikaris picked Druig up under his arms, slinging them over their shoulders, and hurriedly followed Arthur and his knights out of the room. He’d refused to leave under their protection, causing them to watch out for every threat they could think of as he strode down the halls.
Once at the infirmary, they laid Druig out on a bed, and Ajak cut between all of them to press a hand to Druig’s forehead and chest. Arthur watched in shock when the gold hue shone under her hands, her eyes pressed closed in concentration as she began to heal Druig as best she could.
Makkari’s mouth was dry, her stomach roiling with nausea. She could feel anxious tears burning at the back of her throat, her heart racing. Kingo put an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned her head against him as he hugged her.
How had this happened? Who would have wanted to poison Druig? And why had he said the king had been poisoned? None of it made sense.
A commotion behind them caused them all to turn, and Phastos and Merlin were rushing through the doors, the knight that had gone to retrieve them huffing behind them.
“What happened?” Phastos asked, staring at the table Druig was laying on.
“Druig was poisoned.” Ikaris answered.
“By who? Why?”
“We’re not sure yet.”
Merlin looked shocked as he eyed Ajak, folding his arms as he watched her motionless form, “You didn’t tell me she was a witch, Phastos.”
“Only sometimes.” Phastos said, and then held up his hands defensively when the room collectively shot him a look, “Sorry, sorry, I don’t cope well with stress, okay?”
“Will he be alright?” Arthur asked, a hard look on his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looked every bit the king he was in that moment.
“I think so.” Ajak said, drawing everyone’s attention, “The poison spread, but not far enough to do permanent damage.”
Permanent damage? Makkari asked, her hands shaking so badly she was afraid no one would be able to know what she said.
Thankfully, Kingo repeated it for her as they stood behind Ajak. She nodded, “All of his organs seem to be fine. I can’t do anything about removing the poison, but its effects should be null by now.”
“We should give them space.” Ikaris said after a moment, “Let Ajak continue in peace.”
They filed out of the room slowly, Makkari reluctantly stepping out into the hallway with Kingo’s arm still around her. He watched as the others continued down the hallway, shooting glances back at them. He waved them forward after realizing Makkari wasn’t following.
I’m going to wait here in case he wakes up. She said, hoping her smile convinced him she’d be okay.
Kingo nodded, “Okay, then I’m waiting with you.”
You don’t have to. You can go with the others, get some rest.
“Nah,” He wrinkled his nose, pressing his back against the wall across from the door to the infirmary, sliding down it until he was sitting, “I want to wait, too.”
She sat next to him, the skirts of her dress pooling around her. She eyed something dark on the front of it, brushing her hand to smooth the fabric so she could see it better. A sob left her chest before she could silence it, and she knew it probably sounded strangled, but she didn’t care.
Druig’s blood stained her dress, the very one she’d worn just for him.
Covering her face, she allowed herself to cry even while Kingo sat next to her. Even though it had only been a matter of minutes since the whole ordeal, the amount of anxiety knotting in her stomach caused tears to steadily flow from her eyes.
It had to have been a mix up. It had to have been. Why would someone have poisoned Druig of all people? He barely showed himself in public, and when he did, it was a miracle if he said two words other than to her. But he was never disrespectful, he never bore any ill-will toward the humans, never spoke on matters discussed at Arthur’s table. He simply came to make an appearance, and then disappeared back to wherever he felt comfortable.
So Makkari just couldn’t wrap her head around everything that had happened.
The image of Druig’s body jerking as he coughed up blood, his eyes boring into Thena’s as he struggled to speak to her, came to the forefront of her memory. It made her sick with worry, made her want to cry more, but mostly it made her so unbelievably frightened. Druig wasn’t fragile by any means, but could his body really withstand something that made him react that way? It had to, didn’t it?
Didn’t it?
“Hey.” Kingo rubbed her shoulders, his voice soft, “Don’t worry, okay? Ajak said she thought the poison’s effects won’t hurt him anymore, and that he avoided permanent damage. He probably just needs his beauty sleep now.”
Despite the circumstances, Makkari sputtered out a small laugh, wiping her eyes so she could look at her friend. He smiled back, but she could still see the worry lining his face.
Nodding, she said, Yeah, beauty sleep.
“Druig’s strong.” He said it as if he was convincing himself, “He won’t let a little poison take him out. He’d be so pissed if that’s how he died.”
The thing was, Makkari knew that was true. Druig would be very upset if he died so unspectacularly. His death will be the way he wants it, under his own terms. It would be a death fit for a king, not one that struck from the shadows.
They sat for hours, the sun starting to filter in through the window at the end of the hallway. They should have been in bed by now, satisfied by all the food and drink, all of the dancing they had done. Makkari would have been lying wide awake, still thrumming with excitement about the dance she’d shared with Druig.
She’d been trying to think of a good way to trick him into dancing with her ever since she’d found out about the ball, but he’d come right out and asked. It had been so surprising to her that she’d been speechless. The thought of him dancing had almost made her laugh, but he’d been quite splendid. She didn’t know he could even dance that well.
She’d also be lying if she said she hadn’t been flustered when she’d seen him from across the ballroom, cutting through the crowd toward her as soon as he’d seen her. The outfit he’d worn was so far from what she expected, but in the best way possible. Druig all dressed up…who knew he could be more handsome than he already was?
Her heart belonged to him so much, she didn’t even know if it was rightfully hers anymore.
So seeing him writhing on the floor, blood pouring out of his mouth and nose, eyes rolling back, and blue creeping through the veins in his neck, had made her feel the most fear she’d ever experienced. Death had never crossed Makkari’s mind before. It had seemed impossible despite fighting the Deviants. They were Eternals. They couldn’t die.
But they could. They could.
The door to the infirmary opening caused Makkari to stir, and she realized she must have fallen asleep leaning against Kingo’s shoulder. He, too, blinked and sat up straighter, both of them looking up at Ajak, who looked completely exhausted.
She smiled at them though, saying, “He’s fine.”
Makkari breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling new tears brimming. Next to her, Kingo also audibly sighed, saying something under his breath.
“He’s awake, but Merlin gave him a remedy for the pain that made him a little incoherent.” Ajak tilted her head, “He did ask for you, Makkari.”
Her eyes widened, and she was on her feet and to the door faster than the sound of her doing so could catch up with her. She glanced back at Kingo, but he motioned for her to go. Ajak also smiled, reaching out for him. He let her lean on him as they made their way down the hall, leaving Makkari to herself.
Druig was propped up in the same bed they’d laid him in. It was underneath a window, the overcast morning filtering through. His smile when he saw her was tired, but he still made the effort. She sat in the chair Ajak must have used next to his bed, taking his hand in hers. It was freezing, as though his blood was still creeping back into his limbs.
“So it turns out, drinking poison isn’t much fun.”
She shot him a look, not at all surprised he was making a joke out of the situation. Druig always had been sarcastic. Remind me to cross it off my bucket list.
He chuckled, but then winced and coughed, his hand coming away from his mouth with the barest bit of blood. He saw her look at it, and tucked it under the blankets, “Residual effects, Ajak said.”
She said you’re alright. Makkari met his gaze, Are you?
“Honestly, the only thing I feel right now is extremely drunk.” His head lolled to the side as he turned it toward her, “Who knows what Merlin gave me, but it feels pretty good. I don’t feel anything.”
Good, She said, I was afraid you would.
“You were worried about me?” He smiled like someone who’d been told a secret.
Of course, imbicile. You were shaking and blood was coming out of your mouth, you were turning blue. It scared all of us. We still don’t know who did it, or why.
Druig hummed, “I tried telling Thena, but I don’t know if it came out or not. The poison was meant for Arthur.”
What do you mean ‘meant for Arthur’? Makkari asked, frowning, He never got sick even after drinking the wine.
“I took his cup, he got mine. I’ve been compelling the servants to switch them since we got here.” He explained, making her chest tighten with every word, “Just in case his was laced with poison. Turns out it’s a good thing I did.”
Why would you do that? She demanded, Why would you put yourself at risk like that?
“Because I thought someone might try to kill him that way?”
But you know we’re not supposed to interfere! Arthur is a decent king, but why put his life over yours? I don’t understand.
His expression grew serious, “You love him, don’t you?”
Makkari knew her face contorted into shock and, just slightly, disgust, What?
“Arthur. You love him.”
Where did you get a ridiculous idea like that?
“You spend a lot of time with him.” Druig said, not meeting her eyes, “And you look at him different than others.”
She shook her head as if it would make it make sense, Arthur’s interests are in Thena. He asked me to tell him about her and how he could approach her. She intimidates him. So I’ve been spending time helping him find things she’d like and prepare him for asking her to dine with him. I’m not in love with him!
“That would have been nice to know a couple hours ago.” Druig muttered, “Would have saved me a lot of trouble.”
Still, why would you be willing to die for him just because I loved him?
He made a noise in his throat, a sound between a laugh and a groan. His smile was lazy, and when he focused his eyes on her, his pupils were blown. He hadn’t been lying, whatever Merlin had given him for pain had made him extremely intoxicated.
“Because I would do anything for you.” He said simply, “Even if it meant dying so the person you cared for lived.”
Why? She knew she must sound like a parrot, asking the same word over and over again, but it was the only question she could seem to come up with.
“Oh, Makkari.” He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the pillow, “If only I was out of my mind more. Maybe then I could tell you.”
Makkari’s heart faltered, stuttered over itself in wishful hope. Whatever Druig had alluded to sounded a lot more like affection than not, and the night of dancing and balls and magic had left her a romantic.
Tell me of sound mind, then.
Druig let out a heavy breath, quivering slightly as he opened his eyes. He motioned for her to come closer, and Makkari obliged by leaning toward him. His forehead rested heavily against hers, exhaustion evidently still weighing him down as he swallowed thickly, lips parting on an uncertain sigh.
“Makkari.” He said, breath whispered down her neck, “My beautiful Makkari.”
She nodded her head slightly, telling him to go on as best she could.
“I have been in love with you since before ever stepping foot on this planet. Everything about you calls to me, blood to blood, life to life. Your soul to mine.”
Makkari’s eyes flew open, met Druig’s shuttered lids, the breath caught in her lungs in an elated surprise. A smile wanted to break out over her face, but she held it in so he could finish what he wanted to say, barely able to keep her joy in check.
“So long as I am alive, I will forever be bewitched by you.” He said, his hands folding hers between them, “Under your spell until my last breath.”
She tried to pull her hands free, to tell him she’d been just as transfixed, but he didn’t let go. It was her turn, she had to tell him that she heard it. She heard his soul call to hers, felt it wrapped around her conscious like satin. It was warm and honest and pleading, with a melancholy foreboding that bespoke something Makkari couldn’t understand.
“But I can’t…” He continued, and a pit formed in Makkari’s stomach at the sharp tone, “I can’t lose you.”
She started to shake her head.
“Forgive me, Makkari.” His voice was pained, soft in the way guilt made it, “I’m selfish, and weak, and so undeserving of you. Of any part of you. I just couldn’t help myself, and I am sorry.”
Druig leaned away from her abruptly, and it took her a moment to focus on him, to notice the gold of his gaze and regret underneath. All too suddenly she knew what the soft whisper in her mind was, the caress that felt like a lover’s.
She shook her head again, but it was too late, the world was already fading.
“Don’t hate me.”
The last thing she heard before the world went back to the way it had been, before Druig had told her what she’d so longed to hear, she heard him say, “I love you, Makkari. Now I just need you to forget.”
And no matter how hard she tried not to, no matter how tight she clung to his I love you, tried to scream it back, it slipped through her fingers all the same.
Druig looked like death warmed over, even more pale than usual, dark circles deepening the shadows of his eyes. He was misery incarnate, which Makkari wasn’t surprised in the least to find being that he’d been poisoned.
She must have fallen asleep at his bedside, because one moment she had been chiding him on intercepting the king’s cup, and the next she was blinking up at him in a daze as light caught in the dust floating about.
How are you feeling? She asked, a slight headache beating at the backs of her eyes.
“Fine.” He said, one side of his mouth curling into a smirk that never quite seemed sincere, “Worried about me?”
She gave him a deadpan look, Of course. Are we not friends?
The smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by something that faltered into hurt, “We are.”
Then allow me to worry.
Druig only nodded, his eyes going distant, mind receding into itself, and for a while they don’t speak. He’s silent in the way he gets when something truly troubled him, eyes almost masking the hurt that simmered underneath.
Makkari almost asked him what was wrong, and perhaps he wouldn’t have had the strength to hide from her again. Perhaps he would have broken down and poured his heart out to her again, what little there was of it left to give.
But Makkari didn’t ask, and Druig didn’t tell.