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Kaveh was grabbed right outside the ballroom.
He had only been gone for a few minutes, maybe five at most. He had just been trying to right one of the clips in his hair. When he came out of the bathroom, having glanced himself over in the mirror, he found someone waiting for him.
Before he could even greet them, they had switched their positions, gotten Kaveh’s back braced against their chest, and there was a knife at his throat. Swallowing shakily, Kaveh stared at the wall in front of him. “Do what I want, and you don’t have to die. Okay?”
Cyno had briefed them on what to do when this sort of thing happened, as he did with every single Akademiya member. As for Alhaitham and Kaveh, due to their public figure status, they had to review it with him every four months, and again before something like the gala he was currently attending. Just in case.
Holding his hands out, Kaveh took a slow breath. “Right, right. Whatever you want. I don’t have any Mora on me right now, though.”
There was a scoff. Hot breath washed over his ear. “I don’t want your Mora. Start walking.” They moved the knife, placing it against his spine in the small of his back. However, an arm remained around his neck, trapping him close to their body.
“Okay, okay. Don’t worry, I won’t—” The knife poked him in bare skin.
“Shut up.”
Kaveh was forced out into the main ballroom. A few people glanced his way. As soon as they saw him, many of them froze in horror. The knife was returned to his throat. Closing his eyes, he kept walking.
Hopefully, Tighnari, Cyno, and Alhaitham weren’t being targeted as well. It was embarrassing enough for him to be grabbed and dragged out in front of everyone. It didn’t need to be all four of them. Besides, Tighnari might actually have a panic attack, and he really didn’t want that to happen—
“Where’s the Acting Grand Sage?” His captor demanded. The words weren’t directed at him. Swallowing, Kaveh glanced around. He couldn’t spot any of his friends. He saw plenty of people he knew—wait, was Collei here? Oh, he hoped she wasn’t. She really didn’t need to see this. Especially if things went wrong. He didn’t want her to—oh, the knife was pressing into his throat. Not good. “Where is the Acting Grand Sage?!”
Alhaitham emerged from the crowd, looking irritated.
“I am here. What is the—” He cut off, meeting Kaveh’s gaze. A frown darkened his features, and he signed, “Okay?”
“What did he just ask?” His captor barked.
“He’s just asking if I’m okay.” Kaveh replied. Carefully, he replied, “Grabbed outside bathroom. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Alhaitham glanced him over. “You hurt?”
“No.” The knife was pressed into his throat. Against his skin, the metal was chilling. Closing his eyes for a second, Kaveh took a breath, then continued, “Soon?”
“What are you telling him?” His captor demanded. Alhaitham’s gaze switched from Kaveh to the person holding him at knifepoint.
“I am ensuring that the Light of Kshawrewar is unharmed. If you want whatever it is that you have taken him hostage for, I recommend you keep him that way.” His voice was tighter than it should have been. He’s worried.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Kaveh signed back to him. Glancing at him, Alhaitham swallowed nervously. His jaw twitched the way it did when he was worried.
“What do you want?”
“I want…” There was a hesitation. Kaveh couldn’t keep the unimpressed look off of his face, meeting Alhaitham’s gaze with a deadpan expression. Really? You took me captive and couldn’t even think up of a reason to do so? I am…not impressed by this. A woman in the crowd snickered, probably at Kaveh’s expression. “Shut up! I’ll slit his throat right here!”
The knife sliced along Kaveh’s neck. Not deep, not enough to kill. But enough to hurt. Enough for Kaveh to begin bleeding, a sting welling up in his skin. Stiffening, he stared at Alhaitham. Around him, people yelled.
In the middle of it all, Alhaitham was a single calm figure in it all.
Holding his hands up placatingly, he took a slow step forward. “How about we clear this out a little. Why did you do this? Is it something against me? Is it something against Kaveh?”
“You—” Pulling the knife away from Kaveh’s neck for a brief moment, his captor gestured. One of his arms was twisted behind his back. It would be easy for him to turn and slash Kaveh’s throat again, though. Too easy, really. “Be quiet! All of you be quiet!”
Kaveh closed his eyes. His arm was twisted even more, pressing his hand between his shoulders. At least he was flexible enough for it not to hurt too much. There was a strain in his upper arm, in his elbow. Glancing around, Kaveh searched for Cyno, the Matra, Tighnari. Anyone who might help.
Nilou was trying to slip closer through the crowd, trying to get closer. No, don’t. Meeting her gaze, Kaveh tried his best to shake his head. Don’t get yourself hurt.
None of them had their weapons. They had their visions, but Kaveh hadn’t even been allowed to bring Mehrak into the gala. The Matra hadn’t been allowed to bring in their weapons. Cyno’s polearm and Tighnari’s bow had also been left at the door.
Slowly, carefully, Nilou took another step, using the crowd to hide. Her eyes studied Kaveh, his captor. Body facing Alhaitham, Kaveh tried to sign to her. She knew sign. All their friends did. “Nilou, stop.” He begged, eyes holding hers. Pausing, she raised her hands.
“You can’t die.” She replied. There was a desperate movement to her hands. Worried. “You can’t die.”
“I’m okay. I’m okay, it’s fine.” He felt the knife shift at his neck. There was blood running down his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, Kaveh took a slow breath.
When he opened his eyes, he didn’t see Nilou.
Heart dropping, he glanced at Alhaitham. The person behind him was threatening the Sage now, words violent. Kaveh couldn’t hear specifics over the ringing in his ears. Hands shaking, he watched Alhaitham’s face.
He didn’t want to die.
He really didn’t want to die.
The captor’s voice pitched up angrily. Holding out his hands, Alhaitham said something. Maybe it was about calming down. Maybe it was something else. He didn’t know. He didn’t have the chance.
Something slammed into the front of his throat and ripped out. People were screaming. In front of him, Alhaitham froze in the middle of a step. His usually schooled expression had changed, eyes wide and mouth half open where he had started to speak. Red spattered the floor at his feet. It just—continued to come. As his knees buckled and he collapsed, his eyes darted down to the pool of blood forming beneath him.
Alhaitham ran to him. Kaveh opened his mouth to try and tell him everything was okay. Except—nothing.
Oh. My throat. With shaking hands, he reached up to touch his own neck. His captor ran. Alhaitham was at his side when he hit the floor, catching his head before he slammed it into the marble tile. Calloused fingers held his cheek, brushing over his thumb. He stabbed me in the throat.
I think he got my voice box.
Blinking, he stared up at Alhaitham’s face. He’d settled Kaveh’s head on his knee, was cupping his cheek and pressing down on his neck. “Focus on me, don’t focus on anything else. Just look at me.” He kept talking. Behind him, there were blurs of motion—fighting, Nilou, Cyno, Tighnari, his attacker—
A weak, raspy noise left him, more air than words. Grasping Alhaitham’s hand, Kaveh felt tacky, wet heat slicking his fingers. They came away scarlet. Oh. That’s my blood. The world spun. Everything was too hot, he couldn’t breathe right.
“Hang on, Kaveh.” Lifting his head, Alhaitham swung his head around desperately. “Shohre, Aarav, help Cyno and Tighnari with—them! Nayab, get a medic! Everyone else, out!”
No one moved.
“Now!” This time, people obeyed. Reaching up, Kaveh touched Alhaitham’s cheek. It pulled the man’s gaze back to him. It also left bloody fingerprints behind on his skin. Kaveh’s hand, Kaveh’s blood. Almost fitting. “Hold on, Kaveh. Just—please. It’s going to be okay—”
Kaveh let out another weak sound. The hand Alhaitham had left against his cheek was holding Kaveh’s hand to his cheek, despite the blood. Despite the gore. He’d never seen panic so clear on his face. It hurt to see. And yet, despite all his begging, Kaveh could tell something was wrong. Nilou was right by his head, brushing his hair back and out of his eyes. Tighnari had replaced Alhaitham’s hand at his neck. Behind them, blurry and polearm in hand, Cyno was pacing around and yelling orders.
Looking at Alhaitham, Kaveh felt his eyes close without his wanting them to.
+
He woke slowly.
The first thing he noticed was that someone’s hands had wrapped one of his. There was tape clinging to his right hand. Those fingers were cold. The air around him was cold. Something was up with his neck.
With a low moan, Kaveh cracked his eyes open. The lights were bright. Too bright. Wrinkling his nose, he twitched his fingers one by one, checking that each one worked. So did his other limbs. When he tilted his head to the side, he spotted Alhaitham. He was the person holding Kaveh’s hand. “Take it slow, Kaveh. You’re alright.”
Opening his mouth, Kaveh tried to speak. Tried to. When he did, his words came out as a hoarse rasp. Slowly, shaking, he touched his neck.
He found stitches.
A lot of stitches.
Gasping narrowly, he looked at Alhaitham and tugged his hands away. Alhaitham looked at him. With one hand, Kaveh signed out half of “Sign.”
Alhaitham released his hands, nodding. “You okay?”
His signs were a little shaky. “Tired. Okay. Shaking—why?”
“Weakness. Shock. Drug.” Sucking in a breath, Kaveh glanced around.
“Tighnari. Cyno. Where?”
“Outside. Okay.”
“The dance?”
“All good. You were hurt. No one else.” Nodding, Kaveh rested his hands on his stomach for a bit. “You want to sleep?”
“No. Nilou?”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Closing his eyes, Kaveh hummed softly. “Can you talk to me? Please? Out loud?”
“Sure, sure.” Alhaitham rubbed his arm slowly. “Sorry about the cold. It’s okay. You just need to get some rest, and I just—I’m terrible at this, I’m so sorry. I have a book with me? Would you prefer I read that?”
Kaveh started laughing, wheezy and pain-inducing but genuine. It hurt, but he didn’t care. Reaching out, he touched Alhaitham’s hand. Cracking his eyes open, he signed, “I can feel you stressing. The book. What about?”
“Uh—” Looking down at it, Alhaitham swallowed. “It’s a cookbook.”
“A cookbook?” Kaveh propped himself up on one arm, turning to get a glance at the book sitting by Alhaitham’s leg. Mouth drawing into a thin line, he shrugged. “Why are you reading that?” (He had to lay back down for that. Signing while using one arm for support was…not easy. It reminded him of when a very small child signed for help while clinging to some playground equipment. Needless to say…it did not end well.)
The book was a soup cookbook.
Specifically, a cookbook of an entire year’s worth of different soups.
Something in Kaveh’s chest bloomed at that, like a cat purring in sunlight. He smiled up at Alhaitham, whose face flushed. Looking away, he rubbed the back of his neck. “They don’t want you having solid foods for a little while due to the surgery. Your vocal chords were nearly severed, not to mention the damage that could have been done to your carotid arteries. The damage was bad enough regarding blood loss, hypovolemic shock, and an open wound to your trachea.”
Looking at him, humming, Kaveh signed for him to read and settled back in the bed. He drifted off to Alhaitham reading the author’s too-long narratives before the recipes came around.