2412 Iclis 13, Daleth

Xanthy wasn't telling him everything.

Nyxis ran his fingers against the surface of the vial. He held it up to the midday sun, squinting at the resulting color. This should last them until the next day before spoiling. That's good...probably.

He glanced at Xanthy who knelt by June's bed with her arms tucked by her chest and eyes trained on the half-blood's pale face. She may have told Nyxis about the chalice, about her choice, and about its consequent effect on their futures but still, something itched at the back of Nyxis's mind. That wasn't everything going on with Xanthy.

Far from everything.

Why were they going to Dwanzeig in the first place? Given Xanthy's aversion to anything wildlife-related, they weren't going there just to ogle at the territory's trove of exotic species.

Nyxis ran his tongue against his teeth. Why would Xanthy need to heal June, anyway? Her outburst the other night was also something that caught Nyxis off-guard. For someone who has no love for the half-blood, Xanthy was surely doing a good job planning to give her soul up to a throne they weren't even sure existed.

Was June just a stupid excuse for something deeper? Maybe. Nyxis shook his head. If there was anything he hated, it was not knowing everything. Then again, he hated cajoling for details people wouldn't give him, either.

Nyxis blew a heavy breath and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension building up on his muscles. Xanthy wasn't keen on trusting anyone even before this whole mess happened. Months of being with Xanthy taught Nyxis that. Now, as he watched Xanthy reach out and swipe June's hair off his forehead, Nyxis's gut clenched.

Xanthy, whether she admitted it or not, had been afraid to trust anyone again. Her eyes no longer held the playful sparkle and she couldn't hold his stare for longer than a few seconds. Her movements were also stiff. Guarded. Were they signs of guilt? Or was it something worse?

Nyxis shook his head again and moved to shove the grater in his satchel. Its unlimited space accommodated the slab of metal larger than his head. Next came the set of bowls, the pestle, then the sieve.

His fingers brushed the hilt of the sword Canelis entrusted to him. The Lifecatcher's dark hilt poked a foreboding sense of doom in Nyxis's chest. Just as the pixie promised, it still hasn't returned to her. He knitted his eyebrows. Strange.

He bagged the ingredients next, either enclosed in the tightest of vials or sealed in a simple transparent bag. The plan was to get out of Nanvera after Xanthy snapped at him to clear out the instant the sun peeked from the windows. Why she was that eager to leave or why she was that bossy, Nyxis left it to Crozal to understand.

Crozal. Nyxis glanced at the windows where the midday sun still shone. Who knew if the Crimson Mother would graze the sky tonight?

Last night was a mess. Nyxis hadn't meant to yell at her. Did she mean everything she said, though? He glanced at Xanthy yet again. There's an annoying wall between them that neither of them wanted to break down. Xanthy only talked to Nyxis when it was necessary.

Why would they even need to fight over this...stupid thing?

The sound of wood snapping bounced from his fist and off the bare walls. Nyxis looked down and registered the two pieces of what used to be the stirrer rolling atop his palm. Xanthy didn't lift her head from her perch. Didn't even flinch.

Another sigh escaped his lips. He set the useless wooden sticks on the table and braced his weight against it. What was happening to him? He shouldn't care about any of this. He should be out there, looking for the human throne, and helping his people have a chance in the brewing war—the least he could do to protect them. Look at him, still willing to do that even when he wasn't even the king.

Nyxis pushed his hair off his forehead in a manner that wasn't exactly gentle. Synketros and Cardovia were restless. Which city would they attack next? He couldn't handle having Cardina's blood on his hands if they perished in this war. Yet Xanthy...

He clicked his tongue. He couldn't leave Xanthy on her own. No. That's not an option. She was Xanthy, the one whose soul was simply fighting to survive, to keep that one thing she loved. Xanthy, who saved his rear as much as he saved hers. Multiple times, even. Xanthy, who, despite her temper and eating habits, still managed to make his heart jump whenever she smiled.

It wasn't because of her face that Nyxis loved her. No.

Ever since he laid his eyes on a gritty girl in the bakery, he had been staring at the eyes of a fighter, a survivor. Xanthy was many things—nosy, vulgar at the same time innocent, a Disfavored, unguided—but she hadn't let those stop her from caring, from persevering, from surviving. She didn't let anyone or anything stop her from being a good friend. She's loyal to a fault, strong, and fierce. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Calaris would shake with her willingness to cross it and back to make sure none of her friends got hurt.

That's why Nyxis loved her. Not because she's pretty or flawless like those noble ladies in his father's courts, but because Xanthy had flaws and she wasn't afraid to show it. She didn't expect anyone to like her because of that but she would treasure anyone who did. To Nyxis, it's more than enough.

But seeing her like this, broken and hurt over someone who didn't treasure her the way she did them, sent a new array of jumbled feelings in his heart. Xanthy might not tell him everything she's feeling, but she's feeling worse than what she let on. June's betrayal wasn't the last of it.

Nyxis tucked the empty vials into the pockets stitched at the walls of his satchel. The count in his head reached fifteen as he put the last vial in. That's how many Nyxis had to use last night just to stabilize June's condition. The potions' effects would also be wearing out a few hours from now and June would be feeling a lot of pain from every corner of his form.

Nyxis regarded the broken stirrer on the table. Xanthy wasn't just his friend. She's the Virtakios. She has a job to do and a mission to fulfill. The first time they met, Nyxis was honored to be walking the same direction as the prophesied savior. As time went on, however, as he faced adversary and destruction, it became clear that the Virtakios didn't exist just to run around and flash her mysterious magic at festivals. She's supposed to save the island, save them from the evil that threatens their existence.

It wasn't a game of pride or honor anymore. This was the world, the very soil they stood on and the very air they breathed. Perhaps the Virtakios wasn't meant to defeat the Heiress and the Sovereign but she's the only one who could possibly get an inch closer to them and survive. If Xanthy throws that all away to save June, what would be left to Nyxis, to the tens of thousands of souls in this island, alone?

Maybe that's why he had been clenching his hand hard enough to break a stirrer. He wasn't jealous that her attention focused on June, nor that her goal was to save him. No. He was angry—at Xanthy for having the guts to throw away the fate she had been given and at the world for even giving her that fate.

Damn the world.

Nyxis shouldered his pack and turned to where Xanthy knelt. She was a mess. Her hair hung in limp, greasy strands from her head. Her eyes were bloodshot; her clothes rumpled and torn. She had dirt smeared across her cheek that she hadn't bothered to wipe since yesterday. His heart skipped a beat when Xanthy whipped to him, her eyes focusing slower than Nyxis would have liked. When had she last slept?

"Can we go now?" Xanthy rubbed at her eyes. Gray and lifeless eyes stared back at him. Blood seeped into his nails. Oh, he had been clenching his fists. Damn. That's unhygienic.

He strode over to Xanthy and extended his hand to her. "Come on," he said. Worry about hygiene later. For now, he should get them out of this place.