Chapter 7: Guilt

                                    

                                          
With a deep, calming breath, I refilled the glass and started toward the interrogation chambers. The second I opened the door to Isalio's cell, an acrid stench assailed me, banishing my calm.
Isalio was doubled over on the floor beside the table, one hand on the bucket and the other pressed over his stomach. His face glistened with a sickly sheen under the harsh lights, and strands of slick black hair clung to his forehead. His eyes met mine for a second before he squeezed them shut and moaned. 
"What happened?" I demanded. "Was Marqan here?"
"No, Remgar. I'm just—" He clasped a hand over his mouth, chest heaving.
"Hungover," I said, with a pang of guilt.
"Mm." He sucked in a shaky breath. "Alright, go ahead. Ask your questions."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not here to ask questions. You're clearly not well enough."
"Then why are you here?" 
Lacking any better response, I held out the glass of water. 
His brow furrowed. "Is it poisoned?"
I scowled. "You really think I would poison you while you are still sick?"
"No." He sounded vaguely perplexed by his own conclusion. "I don't think you would. Still, I'll pass on the water for now."
"You promised to drink whatever I give you."
His lips twitched, though he still looked nauseous. "Did I? Well, I'm pretty sure I wasn't referring to water."
I clucked my tongue to hide the heat rising in my belly and extended the glass closer to him. "Drink."
Begrudgingly, he accepted the offering and tilted it to his lips. But after two sips, his face contorted, and the glass hit the floor. He reached for the bucket—too late. Watery vomit splashed his shirt and trousers and sprayed up onto my boots.
He scooted back an inch and released a shaky exhale. "Fuck. I should have warned you—I'm significantly less adorable the morning after drinking."
I huffed a breath, half amused and half pained. "I shouldn't have given you so much zaikut."
"You drank as much as I did." He eyed me. "How are you not sick?"
I shrugged. "Guardians are built to endure."
"Yeah...so I've heard." 
His voice carried a weight I could not understand. Was he afraid Guardians would defeat Demons in the end? Or did he regret the inevitable defeat of Guardians?
Did he regret my fate?
He interrupted my contemplation with another round of retching, this time all into the bucket. Before he could recover, I slipped out of the room.
I paced down the hall toward my own bedroom. Once inside, I cleaned my boots, filled a bucket with warm water, and grabbed a packet of food. After a moment of contemplation, I tugged open the door to my mostly-empty dresser and withdrew my joggers and sweatshirt. Then I set off back toward the interrogation corridor. 
Just as I reached Isalio's cell, the door swung open. I jolted, half afraid Isalio was escaping and half afraid Marqan would stroll out with a bloody hammer. 
Borgal's eyes met mine. "Remgar?"
I should have been relieved to see my friend...but why was he in Isalio's cell?
"Did you hurt him?" I demanded.
His jaw dropped, and he expelled an incredulous breath. "What the fuck, Remgar? Are you that gone?"