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Nothing is worth this.Nothing.
A drifting ball of light breaks through my blurry tears. I wipe my eyes, clearing my vision to ensure I’m not dreaming. We all thought Tinger was mortal, but a single manabee has popped from his body. It’s tiny, but it’s something.
He’s something.
I scramble to find the fallen jar and toss the hound’s manabeeze like garbage. With all the care in the world, I gently coax Tinger’s precious floating memory into the jar and secure the cork lid. Then I collapse by his side and weep.
Chapter
Three
WILLOW
My emotions are flayed as I return home later that evening. Even the acid burns on my body don’t hurt as much as my heart.
Candlelight flickers in the windows. My parents must be waiting.
I sit on the porch settee, my head in my hands.
I fucked up. They don’t need to tell me again. The last hour was filled with Haze berating me while Peaches cried over Tinger’s wrapped body. Both victims of the Unseelie High Queen, Peaches found solace in Tinger’s friendship and quirky little ways before I did. She wasn’t afraid of him like most fear wolpertingers. She claimed him as her own and helped him escape. She once told me she’d caught him rolling in her underwear when they lived at the Obsidian Palace. When I discovered him doing the same thing to mine, Peaches and I giggled over how gross that was.
But now Tinger is gone, it seems funny. Cute. Sad. I keep remembering the adorable, quirky things he used to do. He’ll never do them again.
The shame of telling Peaches what I’d done, to see the disappointment in Haze’s eyes, the devastation in hers, was something I’ll never forget.
“I’m so sorry,”I’d croaked, offering my apology for them to claim as a debt.
Haze loomed over his petite mate as she sobbed. She never looked so fragile as in that moment. Never so helpless as she silently stroked the tiny, swaddled form. Peach-colored hair stuck to her tear-stained pale cheeks, but neither Haze nor their daughter moved to interrupt the grieving woman.
Jasmine, five years younger than me but already taller, glared at me with such hatred for my negligence—at least, that’s what I saw. And they didn’t even know I’d robbed them this morning.
I offered Tinger’s manabee to Peaches.
“He had mana,”I explained.“He wasn’t as old as we assumed. Wasn’t completely mortal.”
I intended it to be a consolation, but all it did was make my mistake seem so much worse. Tinger hadmanaleft. He might have seemed old, but that tiny drop of magic proved he might have lived for decades.
I press my hand against my shirt. Beneath it, a new glass vial containing his spark dangles from a cord around my neck. They refused to accept the manabee, instead telling me to hold onto it. They never outright blamed me.
Which is why it’s all on me.
I should have known better.
The front door opens, and my father sticks his head out. Now fully clothed, he looks at my raw, wounded face and frowns. “You didn’t see a healer.”
“I washed my wounds in the temple fountain.”
The water is infused with mana. It helps heal. Soaking in it would have been better, but I haven’t taken a swim or a bath since Rory died.
His frown deepens, and he gestures for me to come inside. I sigh and get to my feet. Time to face the firing squad. How much worse can it get?
When I shuffle into the kitchen, I find my mother sitting at the small wooden dining table. My stolen mana stones are laid out before her.
Shit.
I drop onto a chair opposite her. My father lurks in the doorway. Even in casual clothes, he is a menacing presence.
“Rush,” my mother chides, eyes glued to the stones. “Join us.”
