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I.
The ground still trembles as they make their way deeper into the valley and further away from the mines of Skellin. The graveled expanse they walk still rumbles; the mines shake in the growing distance. Clearly, they had disturbed something, well Elora had, and with what was probably help from Scorpia, the mines were now collapsing.
Exhausted, battered, and bruised, the fellowship of Willow, Elora, Boorman, Graydon, Kit, and Jade, continue their slow march toward the Shattered Sea. Jade is shouldering most of Kit's weight upon their initial escape from the mines. With Kit pulled tight against her, she doesn't mind the strain in the muscles of her back or the burn in her legs. It is enough to have Kit close to her, the warmth of her, even if her clothes are still damp from the viscous fluid from the mine lake.
Every part of her body aches inside and out, her steps wobbly like a foal, but with Jade's help, Kit walks. With one arm secured around strong shoulders, Jade's hand gently gripping her wrist and hand tight to her shoulder. In her other hand, she holds fast to her father's sword, her grip true, although the sword hangs limply at her side. The need or desire for conversation has ebbed like their adrenaline, and for now, the simple act of breathing is enough.
Together, the pair make their way across the rocks and the moss of the path laid before them, the others ahead of them by a few yards, each of them lost to their thoughts. Eventually, Kit's obstinance and insistence to walk on her own compel Jade to let her go. Jade keeps a close eye on her charge once she stops and lets Kit stand up straight on her own.
She knows it's futile to point out the obvious to Kit, so Jade lets Kit walk without aid for the first half league. Ever the knight, she stays near Kit, always within reach but gives her the space that she is adamant she needs. Jade does not hover or walk too close.
Instead, she walks a footstep or two ahead of Kit, who moves on cautious steps, but refuses to stop. Despite the burn in Kit's lungs. The tremble in her muscles. The soreness in her limbs. Her breathing is still labored, but she presses on, eyes fixed on the back of Elora's head, willing herself to move out of spite. Of course Jade is worried, however, right now they don’t really have the time to stop, nor time to worry.
They had to move Kit says, and so they keep moving.
Even though at times it can be frustrating, Jade admires Kit's stubbornness and determination. It is part of what she loves about her, but she also knows how that blind focus can be a detriment. She gives Kit space, but she can still see her and reach for her if and when she is needed. Out of the corner of her eye, Jade watches Kit walk like she wants to prove to everyone that she's okay. Prove that she hadn't just experienced one of the most harrowing moments of her life. Prove that she matters. Prove that she belongs.
Suddenly, but expectedly, her toe drags, she stumbles, and her legs give out, sending her to her knees. Jade is there by her side in the space of a blink.
"You need to rest," Jade says softly, squatting beside Kit. Her tone is neither an admonishment nor pity, she is simply worried for her. When Kit hurt, Jade ached, and she was aching all over.
"I'm fine." Kit's breaths come in fits and small gasps. She picks her head up and stares off in Elora's direction.
Jade responds, "I've got you" while helping her to her feet.
It is clear Kit wants to fight, but her body rebels, knees weak, pulse thready, and the feel of so much pressure.
Once again, Jade drapes Kit's right arm over her shoulders and pulls Kit in tight, so they walk as if they are on three legs. Kit's body sags into Jade's, her strength sapped by drowning and the heavy sword at her side. Together they travel across the rocky terrain headed for the shores of the Shattered Sea.
Kit does her best to hang on. She is running on spite and the last of whatever adrenalin she has, but it is clear that she is exhausted and hurting. They all are. They need to rest, but that is still a ways off.
Madmartigan's sword drags across the ground and Jade softly offers to carry it. Kit snaps at her with flashing eyes and gritted teeth. "I can carry it," she growls out.
Jade says nothing, simply pulls her tighter and they keep moving. She isn't upset. She understands.
She gets why she can't bear to let go of the large sword, almost a two-hander in Kit's small hands. She gets why she needs to hold on so tightly to this tangible reminder of a father long gone. The feel of the steel and the grooves of the pommel must feel like all she has left. And so Jade understands why she wants to hold onto the sword despite its weight, why she wants to hold on to some part of her father as she holds on to the memory of his voice, the memory of the feel of him, the memory of the smell of him - horse and cheroot and grass. The sword is heavy, but she will drag it across this wretched endless brutal sea that is not a sea for as long as she has to and they both know it.
She asks even though she knows the answer. It is what she would've answered if she had been asked to put down her own sword - the sword Ballentine had gifted her. She only wants Kit to know that she too, could carry the weight, and shoulder the burden, just as she always had. She is still her knight after all, even if it wasn't official. Even if it would never be official.
Jade refuses to let her mind dwell on the fact that it isn't just about being a Knight or Tir Asleen. When was the last time it had been about any of that? It is about Kit. Always. The princess is her charge not because Sorsha asked or because she felt indebted. She is by Kit's side, holding her steady and willing her to walk because she wants to be. Because she needs to be.
Jade knows Kit. Knows her obstinacy, her resolve, her fight. Even when they were kids climbing too high in the trees, Jade knowing full well they needed to turn back and head home in the waning light, she stayed. Kit wanted to keep going higher or keep going further, and Jade would happily submit to the concentrated look in blue-green eyes. The softness, the pleading, the promise of "just one more and we can go home". And even though Jade knew better, she knew she'd never leave Kit, never turn back once it got too dark, or walk away when it seemed impossible. Where Kit went, she went. She would catch her if she fell, pick her up when she stumbled, and race her home when she was ready.
---
II.
It is with a consensus that they agree to stop for rest and recuperation.
The promise of warmth and food eases the tension in Jade's shoulders. She's not quite sure what to make of the old man, but here in this contained space, she allows herself to hover and dote and watch.
When Jade finally sits down on the bench seat across from where Kit sits under the blanket she had just given her, it is with indescribable relief. They are far from done, but for just one moment she can rest. Rest in the knowledge that Kit is safe and in front of her and within reach.
As the events of the past few days wash over her, Jade is not embarrassed by her desire to be close to Kit. Ever close, always close. She wishes she could be inside her skin. Wishes she could take the hurt she knows Kit feels and vanquish it for her. Wishes she could bring light to whatever dark and lonely place Kit had found herself in. And Jade knows that it was dark and lonely because she felt that ache, that hollow, that empty. Because she too, was helpless.
No training. No want. No focus. The glaze had hardened over the lake, impervious to the furious strikes of Jade and Boorman's blades. And when it seemed that even Willow's magic could not break through, in an instant nothing mattered anymore. Nothing mattered because she was gone and how was she supposed to get herself up off that damn glazed-over river. Jade knows how dark it was because for too long of a breath she wished the stalagmites and falling rocks would have just destroyed her too; broken through the glaze just to join her.
Jade blinks rapidly, the image of Elora pulling Kit free in her mind's eye. She relives the moment in flashes. Kit is free and she is gasping and Jade is sobbing with relief and reaching out and touching her. Her words spill out like her tears, "I've got you, I've got you. You're alive, you're okay."
Jade jolts out of her reverie, realizing she had nearly dozed off. But she is not sure is ready to sleep yet, because she just needs to keep watch over Kit for just a while longer. Just until she is sure that she will find some rest. Just until she is sure this is real. Jade grips at the cushion of the bench seat, debating with herself if she wants to get up and move to the seat closer to Kit. The one where she can reach out and touch her if she leans forward. Her skin practically itches with the want and need to touch Kit, but being too scared because one of them might break. Like the lake wouldn't. Like Kit did.
Jade shakes her head against the intrusive thought. It is nearly too much all at once, but then Kit falls asleep in the chair and Jade feels her heart settle.
---
After barely eating, they bunker down for the night in whatever spaces they can find. Kit goes to back the chair with the blanket over her legs and her father's blade across her lap. Jade settles back against the bench seat from earlier and keeps her focus on Kit.
She keeps her eyes on her, determined to stay awake. Only jerking awake when Elora walks by and puts the cover that has fallen back over her legs.
Jade sits up; failing at pretending she hadn’t dozed off.
Elora is empathetic. She whispers knowingly, "She's still asleep. You should rest." She presses a blanket into Jade's hands. "It's okay."
Jade nods but stays upright nonetheless. She doesn't need any more sleep. Closing her eyes means Kit is out of her sight. Out of her reach. And that has been too much of their lives. Just out of reach. Fleeting and ephemeral. Orbiting one another, doomed to never touch. But not anymore. With the cracking of that glaze, everything else has cracked as well. The trolls had taken her before, and she vowed never again, and then that damned lake... She hopes she is not glaring at Elora. It's not her fault.
Kit is in pain and even Jade has contributed to that. How could she stay and watch her best friend, the person she loves, be married off to some man who didn't deserve her? Married off to some person who didn't know her wants, her dreams, or the things that made her laugh or that drove her crazy. And yes, she had called Kit a coward for running - ironically, she was just the same. It didn't matter if she knew she would return - she was still running.
Jade tenses her jaw and sits up straight. She picks up Madmartigan's sword, which had fallen from Kit's grasp, and then pulls the whetstone from her belt. With a nearby stool for a perch, she begins the rhythmic drag of the whetstone down the blade. Her strokes are smooth and angled against the steel to better hone the edge. The sound is a gentle scrape in a straight line—the blade hums.
Dark brown eyes in the waning candlelight stay fixed on the sleeping Kit. Jade drags the stone down the blade. She breathes in and out through her nostrils. Her rhythm in time with her strokes. Her strokes match the rise and fall of Kit's chest. It is a reminder she is still here. She is alive. She is okay.
Hum and scrape.
Hum and scrape. I'm here and you're okay.
Hum and scrape. You're here and you're okay.
Hum and scrape. You're here and I've got you.
Hum and scrape. You're here and I'm never letting go.
Hum and scrape. I'm never letting go.
The sound will go on well into the night. It becomes their pulse. Their rhythm. Their heartbeat.
I've got you. You're alive. You're okay.
Fade out...