“Don’t you dare,” Faline snapped and Quid looked up quickly. “I know exactly what is going through your fucked up head so you knock it off right now.”
“Fal – ” Quid began.
“No, it’s not your fault that Orrick was killed,” Faline said firmly, her cat-green eyes hard. Quid flinched; Faline had never had time to tiptoe around euphemism or social niceties. She would never say “lost” or “left us” and most days Quid appreciated that.
“But it is,” Quid said, her voice was weaker than usual. “I had all the information, but because I froze – ”
Faline gripped Quid’s chin firmly in her fingers and refused to let her look away. She shook Quid firmly when her eyes avoided hers.
“They locked you in a room and terrorized you until you couldn’t say your own name. Not your fault.”
Quid’s lips trembled and Faline swore.
“Everyone has a piece of the damn blame pie. Mourn Orrick, miss his scaly ass, but don’t destroy yourself with guilt. The rest of us need you alive and functioning, got it?”
“Good, now go find someone to hug,” Faline ordered, releasing Quid. “Not me.”