"She does not care about anything but herself, so do not feel sorry for her. She doesn't deserve it."
I can't disagree with him after hearing that, and I wonder if it makes me a bad person. I'm unhappy about the fates of the others—First, the goddess's anchor, and all of the other young, happy, devoted faces I saw there. So many people.
But Aron's right. They threw their lot in with her. If everyone knew this was going to happen…someone should have done something.
When he extends his hand out again, I swipe at my eyes (didn't even realize I’m crying) and take it once more, letting him lead me away.
When the sun goes down, Aron takes pity on my constant staggering and stumbling. There's a large boulder on one side of the road, and he leads us to it. "I suppose we must take shelter for the night. It's clear to me that despite the danger, you can't go on much further."
I'm not even mad about his arrogant words. I'm just too relieved that we're going to actually stop. My body throbs with pain like it's one big bruise, and my feet are blistered from walking barefoot all day. I haven't complained, though. At least I'm alive. I keep thinking of First and her beautiful, crystal wings—and the fact that she's probably been crushed under a hundred tons of falling Citadel. That puts things in perspective. No matter how big of a dick Aron is, he wants to keep us both safe and alive. He protected me when we fell, and I won't forget that. It had to hurt a lot.
Aron releases my hand when we reach the boulder, and I collapse gratefully at the base of it. I lie down, not even caring that the cobbled road is covered with a fine layer of grit and dirt. All that matters is that we've stopped. I close my eyes, wallowing in my pain for long moments.
I'm alive and that's all that matters.
"Thank you for stopping," I whisper through parched lips.
Aron only grunts acknowledgment of my words. There's no snideness, no pissy commentary. I open my eyes a slit and glance over at him. He's not sitting. He's staring off into the distance, his hands on his hips, his tunic plastered to his back. He must be sweaty. I find that strangely odd, because Aron seems unaffected by the elements. Even in the heat of the day, he was cool and unbothered while I panted and huffed and choked on mouthfuls of dust.
He glances down the road, in the direction we're heading, and for a terrifying moment, I think he's going to demand that I should get up, and we should keep going. But he doesn't. He merely looks thoughtful and I relax.
When I lay my head back down on the dirt, I realize that his back is glittering.
I frown, slowly sitting up, and as I do, the crystals flash and catch the fading light. "Aron, your back."
He glances over his shoulder at me. "What of it?"
"You've got crystals embedded in your skin." I get to my feet and hobble to his side. Sure enough, his tunic is sticking to him not because of sweat, but because it's pinned against his flesh by crystal shards. I think back and remember how the crystals rained down on top of us with the first trebuchet hit to the Citadel…and then I remember Aron landed on his back, with me on top of him. Oh dear. Guilt hits me. "Are you okay?"
"I am standing and whole. Of course I am fine." He scowls at me as if it's a stupid question to even ask.
I do notice he doesn't say his back is fine, though. I'm starting to read between the lines the longer I get to know Aron. He's full of bluster—piss and vinegar, as my mother would say—but he's not heartless. He just doesn't understand a lot of this world. I know how that feels.
"Come sit down by the boulder and I'll pick them out for you," I tell him, reaching out and taking his hand. There's a skittering shock as I touch him, but he doesn't protest and lets me lead him forward. I go back to my spot by the rocks at the edge of the path, sit down, and cross my aching legs, then pat the spot in front of me. "Here."
He sits, his back toward me. As he does, I realize again just how massively big this guy is. His