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Summary
[I’m sorry, Chaka had said. Sitting at his graveside. Pell slack in his arms, resting exhausted against Chaka’s chest, and the palace guard would find them here, soon, but it seemed unimportant. About the grave. We…I…we were so sure. That you were dead.But I did die, Pell murmured.Chaka had smoothed back his hair. Exposed, without his keffiyeh, and only Chaka had seen him like this, only Chaka had looked upon the column of his spine, bared, where his shoulders parted into blades; only Chaka had pressed his lips to the sharp bones there, in the forgiving dark of their chambers. Are you a ghost, then? he’d said, and there’d been strange humour in it. A fondness. How can you be dead, he seemed to be asking, when I feel the weight of you, your warmth? How can you be dead when I feel your heart beating?] when Pell dreams, he dreams of falling
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