Frowning, he performed an uneasy addition, one that yielded far too great a sum. No wonder he remained in difficult straits. . . and good thing he wasn't completely blood crazed.
Or was he? Thinking back upon what he had wrought with Throe, it was difficult not to judge his actions by that condemning catchall.
With a curse, he hung his head, exhaustion and a strange kind of ennui settling upon his shoulders -
The back door at the kitchen opened, and given that it was too early for his soldiers to return, he knew that it was Zypher with the update on Throe's departure.
"Was he all right?" Xcor asked without looking up. "Did he get off safely?"
"He is and he did. "
Xcor's eyes shot up. Throe himself was in the archway, standing tall and proud, his eyes alert, his body strong.
"And he returneth safely," the male finished in a grim tone.
Xcor immediately refocused on his soup and blinked hard. From a vast distance, he watched as the spoon in his hand shook out its contents.
"Did Zypher not tell you," he muttered gruffly.
"That I was free? Aye. He did. "
"If you wish to fight, I shall set aside my meal. "
"I don't know that you're up to anything but feeding yourself the now. "
Damn sleeveless shirts, Xcor thought as he turned his arms inward so that less of the damage showed. "I could muster if need be. Where are your boots?"
"I don't know. They took everything I had. "
"Were you treated well. "
"Well enough. " Throe came forward, the boards beneath his feet creaking. "Zypher said you wanted to know none of what I've seen. "
Xcor just shook his head.
"He also said that I would never get an apology out of you. " There was a long pause. "I want one. Now. "
Xcor put aside his soup and found himself searching the wounds he had given himself, recalling all that pain, all that blood - which had dried brown on the floorboards beneath him.
"And then what," he said in a rough voice.
"You'll have to find out. "
Fair enough, Xcor thought.
Without grace - not that he had any, anyway - he rose to his feet. At his full height, he was unsteady for too many reasons to count, and the off-balance feeling got even worse as he met the eyes of his. . . friend.
Looking Throe in the face, he stepped up and put out his palm. "I am sorry. "
Three simple words spoken loud and clear. And they didn't go nearly far enough.
"I was wrong to treat you as I did. I am. . . not as much of the Bloodletter as I thought - as I have e'er wanted to be. "
"This is not a bad thing," Throe said quietly.
"When it comes to the likes of you, I would agree. "
"And the others?"