Following the White Rabbit

[Raffe]

It went sour quickly. Disappointment dropped like a stone in Raffe’s stomach; he felt responsible for bringing these two threads of his life together, and now the incendiary burn of their clash was his fault too. Maybe he should have feigned ignorance of the coin and let Cruz pursue it his own way. Maybe the mystery would have fizzled out. Maybe he would not have been so frustrated with what he found, if it was something he had found himself. He rubbed a hand over his face. It no longer felt hot, just clammy. A prickle of chill threaded deep in his veins, like a taunt. How did you know when the worst of the Sickness was over? It felt like a sleeping beast; quiet one moment, turning over disquietingly the next. He tried to remember how it had been after the cabaret, but his memories were too deeply infused with his recovery from Kasun’s attack. He couldn’t remember.

How did you know when it was too late? How did you know when it was going to kill you instead?

He swallowed, and dropped that thought somewhere dark. The arguing continued, but at least Cruz seemed inclined to leave now. Raffe was a useless liar. If he felt miserable with guilt, he also knew there hadn’t been another option. Wandering the tunnels with Sage hadn’t seemed like a good or safe idea either.