Caleb can’t help but remember, of course, a very different night, and a very different dance floor. It’s now the stronger memory; he will never think Jester to be Astrid again. Though the music in this setting still makes him think of her, too, another one of them damned, and her he has no hope of changing.
“Caleb?” Jester came in already, and now she finds him and grabs his hand, clutching tighter than he thinks she meant to. “Would you like to…to dance again? Maybe you’ll be a little bit better at it this time?”
He turns to look at her. She’s smiling, but it’s nervous. This is her trying to check on him, he realizes, after what just happened. Of course she needs to know how he’s doing.
Caleb can give her that, at least a little. He even manages to smile back slightly, as he says, “That would not be that difficult, I believe.”
He still lets her lead at first, but when he’s sure of himself, he leans in to whisper, “Let me spin you.” She laughs as she whirls around, and to hear her do so, to see her face so lit up with delight, is the joy Caleb didn’t even know he needed this night. When he brings her back in she moves in very close, until their breaths mingle and Caleb just lets himself savor this moment, and her clear happiness.
If this is what he can share with Jester, Caleb will take it.
But then he hears that nervous tone, as she again asks, “Caleb?”
“Yes?” He’s trying to think of answers to the questions she might ask, ways to minimize her distress, even as he realizes he doesn’t want to lie to her, or shouldn’t anyway, not when she wouldn’t want him to.
But instead, she says, “I don’t think you’re damned.”
“Jester,” he starts, “You still don’t entirely know…”
“And I don’t at all care,” she snaps. There’s another moment where they just dance, and then she moves closer still, almost whispering, as she says, “I don’t know if Essek is beyond saving, though I hope he isn’t. But I definitely think you’re not.”
It leaves Caleb with no doubt that he could confess to deeds far worse than what he’s actually done, and she would still insist on forgiving him. This isn’t her being young and naïve, not anymore. This is her understanding enough of the world to make a decision, and not even hesitating.
“Thank you,” he whispers back, a little fervently, because this he can accept.