Jak took it unhesitatingly. “Nothing you didn’t know, I think.”
Dagan shook his head. He’d known almost from the moment he’d met Jak that there was more to it. “I don’t think he does.”
“Good.”
“Is it?” Dagan wondered. What might’ve been different, if Hen had known it wasn’t just about business, or even ambition? Would Hendrik have lost so much of himself after Kass died if he’d had another anchor?
“I don’t have this in me. And Kass sure as all the hells didn’t.” Jak snorted out a laugh, gesturing with his free hand to the room. This small flick of his hand seemed to encompass their entire situation, somehow: the darkness, the violence, and now the long, tortured wait and recovery. “It’s none of my business, but I had to tell you. That I think you’re what he deserves, and I love that for him. For both of you.”
“It is your business. He’s your friend.Of course you want the world for him,” Dagan allowed with a soft smile. He had so many questions to ask, in the moment: Why didn’t you tell him before? Why did you feel like you had to hide it? Why him and not Kass? What didn’t Kass have in him that you think I do? What is it that you think Hendrik deserves?
But none of them seemed appropriate. The moment was heavy, tentative, and just a little more weight on it might shatter the whole thing.
“I always wondered what it’d be like to have someone who’d do anything for me,” Jak said quietly, seriously. “Not just when cock-struck, but any time, any place, any thing. That’s who he is. And it’s who you are. I see that.”
Dagan sighed. “Yes, well, his willingness to do anything for people he loves has proven as much a liability as anything else.”
“Because he prefers action to thought. Or he used to, anyhow.” Jak smiled crookedly. “Even before I heard what happened, I thought that was what got him killed. The very thing I admired most.”
“That must’ve hurt,” Dagan squeezed Jak’s hand and stepped a little closer. He was drawn in, somehow, though he was aware he might be the very last person Jak wanted to hug just then.
“A little. In truth it made me more sad than anything,” Jak admitted, though he still looked mostly amused. “But you can balance that in him. I see that, too.”
Did Jak think he couldn’t balance that? Had Kass been unable or unwilling to? What, exactly, did Jak see right now that made him confess this thing, this thing he’d hidden so expertly from Hendrik himself for the gods knew how long?
“Do you want…?” Dagan felt silly the moment he started speaking. He bit at his bottom lip.
“Yes, actually.” Jak pulled him into his arms and squeezed, his breath hot against Dagan’s neck, the smell of his leathers and something like spices in his hair oddly comforting. “I’m sorry for being awkward,” he whispered with a little huff of a laugh. “I could tell that you saw it. That first night in the safe house.”
And yet Hendrik didn’t. He never had. He’d never had the chance to, though. Idiot. Darling, darling idiot. Dagan leaned his cheek against Jak’s and squeezed him tight. “Believe me. I understand.”
“Yes. I know.” Jak pulled away slowly but firmly, letting go of his hand last, his scent lingering in the air between them. “There, now it’s out in the open. Well, mostly. Don’t say anything to him. Please. Not until you’re gone, anyhow.”
Dagan shook his head. “It’s yours to tell. If you want.”
Jak shook his head. “I just want him to live happily ever after. How that happens is up to you entirely. And I’m glad.”
And for just a moment, Dagan was knocked almost breathless. Partly because Jak recognizing Hendrik for who he was, for what he had to give, was positively gorgeous. And partly because Dagan finally understood, in some deep, previously disengaged part of himself, that it was all his. And he could never take it for granted again.
*
The next week, Piret and Sister Eva were declared leaders of the provisional government in the cleared-out Children of the Blood Complex. Hendrik, still trapped in a fever-dream, didn’t even know his City was changing around him. The day after Eva and Piret were invested, the healers decided it was time to take Hen’s leg below the knee.
Dagan held one hand, Kajja the other, and Hen drifted in and out of screaming pain as the poppy milk sparred with the bonesaw for his attention. After a burly healer bandaged him up again, everyone, Heart Wood and City healer alike, declared the amputation “cleanly done.” That night, the City’s streets were wild with torches and bonfires as the people celebrated their liberation from darkness. The next day, the Guardhall surrendered. The day after that, anyone who didn’t want to live with the new provisional government was invited to leave the safety of the walls, so long as they went in the direction of the wastes or the mountain itself, since they were in delicate talks with the Council of the Heart Wood about aid and trade, by then.
Innan came by to tell him that news, and Dagan asked, “I notice you’re still here, too?” with a knowing little smile.
They looked happy. Bright-eyed, curious, engaged. Maybe it was just that he was out of the loop or spent most of his time talking to a silent Hendrik, but he was dying to know if it was love or ambition that kept Innan in the City so long.
Innan smiled. “You’d have been long gone if you could, I know. Both of you. But…I think I like it here.”
Dagan had to laugh If anyone could feel at home among a pile of gray stone, it’d be Innan. “You just like the tunnels.”
“It’s the most extensive cave system I’ve ever seen or felt.” Their enthusiasm, though perhaps misplaced, was charming all the same. “I want to explore it all, and I’m sure some of them can be repurposed. The mines, too. Piret has Maya cleaning them out completely, and we’ve finally got a plan for relocating the workers and distributing resources.”
“I can’t imagine that place not making me shudder.”
“You see the past; I see the possibility. The potential,” Innan replied with that knowing little smile.
“So, your interest in the Stone City has nothing to do with a certain adorable little sister, then?” Dagan asked casually.
Innan flushed. “Well. There’s still not much time for…”
“Romance? Love?” Dagan supplied.
Their freckles began to redden, too. “Don’t tease me, Dags.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m delighted. But if you two want to take your time, I’ll not speak of it again. Until you do first.”
Innan lifted their chin. “I don’t mind, exactly. I just don’t want to be teased.”
“So, have you just kissed, or is there something more going on?”
Innan shot him a withering look.
Dagan held up both hands and moved to the bed to check on Hendrik, as he did about once an hour. It took him a moment to register that, “Shit. Finally. His fever broke.”
Innan raced to his side and picked up Hen’s hand, then felt his pulse. “Feels good. Steady. Normal.”
