She gazed at him, her tear-filled eyes narrowing on him, reflecting a world of pain, longing, hatred, hope, and despair. When she spoke, her words were more of an accusation than a question. “You remember, don’t you?”
Drakis heard his own quickened breaths in his ears. His mouth had suddenly gone dry, and he was having trouble looking her in the eye. “Yes, Mala. I remember. . I remember a great many things now. . we all do. .”
Her lips parted in contempt.
Drakis let out a harsh breath. “But, yes, I remember.”
“How could you, Drakis,” her voice shook as she spoke. “How could you do that to me? The servants who brought me to Shebin’s rooms scorned me and tore at my clothes. . all the while screeching that my hoo-mani body was too ugly to tempt them. . and then they forced me to watch you. . you. . and that hideous, soulless elf bitch. .”
Her voice trailed off to nothing.
Only now did he remember it all-how he had spurned Tsi-Shebin the day before because of his love of the garden slave called Mala and how her vengeance had taken its own cold course. So she had changed his Devotions that night to include erasing his memory of the woman he so tenderly loved so that she could arrange her horrific and unforgivable humiliation.
It was not the first time, Drakis knew, that Tsi-Shebin had played cruelly with him or with those he dared love other than her.
He shook with revulsion, feeling the urge to vomit and all the while knowing that it was he alone who made him sick. . that it was himself whom he hated the most. Drakis was filled with unspeakable shame over what had happened and what he had done.
Yet his other memories of Mala persisted at the same time: of their yearning to touch softly through the bars that separated them, of the quiet talks they stole, and the warm smiles they shared.
He looked again into those emerald eyes and saw his own loathing and longing reflected back.
“Mala,” he said quietly at last. “I am so terribly sorry-more sorry than I think there are words to tell. I wish there were a way that I could take it all back or change it all. I even sometimes wish that I could just forget it all and go back to being ignorant and happy.”
Mala gave a short laugh, wiping her eyes against the soiled cloth covering her knees. “I’d settle for ignorant.”
Drakis smiled slightly and nodded. “Well, if all you’re looking for is ignorant, then here I am.”
Mala gazed at him again, her face serious. “Drakis, I don’t know how to forget. I look at you and I see so many different faces now all at the same time. So many of them I hate and so many of them I long for all at once. I can’t make myself forget what I know. I need you, Drakis. . I don’t understand what is happening to us or where we are going. . but I need to follow you, be with you and be comforted by you. But every time I see you I also see your other faces, and I just can’t. .”
“Maybe,” Drakis said. “Maybe we could just-pretend.”
Mala looked away from him. “What?”
“Look, I–I don’t know what happened to us, and we’re all dealing with our own pasts,” Drakis said, taking a step closer.
Mala tightened her grip around her knees.
“I know there are a lot of things in my own past that absolutely terrify me,” he went on. “I’ve seen things. . done things. . you know that I have. . that are. .”
Drakis ran out of words, unable to express his self-loathing. “Up until now I’ve been able to push all these memories aside. I keep telling myself that I’ve got to take command, I’ve got to be in control and get everyone to safety-and that I’ll think about my unthinkable past later. I haven’t stopped-haven’t really let any of us stop-long enough to deal with our own thoughts and memories. We’ve been running away from ourselves as fast as we could, dreading being caught by our own pasts as much as any Inquisitor the Empire has sent after us. Now we’ve stopped, and we have nowhere left to run from ourselves.”
Mala turned her gaze back on him once more, her eyes both pleading and reserved.