‘I’m – I’m so – I don’t –’
‘Know how to form a sentence?’ His voice is cool and clipped.
I twist my fingers together, cursing my own thoughtlessness. It’s some time before I manage to speak again. ‘I’m sorry. About your sister.’
‘Why?’ Fox says flatly. ‘You didn’t kill her.’
I wince. ‘I mean, I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine –’
‘Then don’t.’
‘I … I know you prefer not to talk about it.’
‘How perceptive you are, Storm Weaver.’ Fox drops to the ground. The saplings bend to let him pass, but something makes him turn back and face me head-on. ‘What do you want me to say?’ he demands. ‘That I loved my sister? That I’msadshe’s dead? Well, I did, and I am. Every day. But what good will that do? It won’t bring her back.’
‘No, it won’t,’ I agree. ‘But keeping it to yourself, going through something like this alone …’ I pause self-consciously. I don’t often share this part of myself, not with anybody. But I’ve realized, with more than a little surprise, how painful it is – seeing him in pain.
‘I … I know what it’s like to lose someone you love,’ I murmur softly. ‘And it’s enough to break anyone.’
Drizzle kisses my cheeks.
Fox hesitates, torn. Then he closes the distance between us in two strides. My breath hitches, my knees grazing his hips as he plants his hands on either side of me. For a long moment, we stare at one another. Green eyes bore into mine, tearless yet brimming with such torment that I want to look away. But I don’t. I force myself to meet his gaze, because he needs something to hold on to, even if he won’t admit it.
Grief is a language I understand. It’s the very worst kind of pain. An ache that never really goes away. There’s no cure, no remedy or antidote. Not even for a Healer.
And I meant what I said – it is enough to break anyone.
But broken things are sharp. So maybe that’s why Fox takes my concern and my vulnerability and throws them back in my face. Why herecoilsfrom my sympathy as though it were a loaded weapon pointed straight at his heart.
The fallen tree beneath me begins to quiver, then quake. I gasp as it snaps clean in half, the deafeningCRACKcausing birds to take flight from the branches overhead.
I freeze as Fox leans in close, eyes cold, lips brushing the shell of my ear. ‘I’m the one who does the breaking, remember?’
Then he yanks Soulkiller from the earth and walks away without a backward glance.
27
Elva
Iremember that the week following the whipping passed in an indistinguishable haze of pain, each day blending into the next. Ingra had done her best, but my back still resembled a slab of raw meat, latticed with lashes. The heat of the omnipresent Ostacrian sun only worsened matters, with the makeshift bandages sticking to my skin with blood and sweat.
I was polishing a vase in the corner of a glittering parlour. It was filled to bursting with golden roses, and I was reminded of what my father used to call my sister and me. Astrid was his star, and I was his petal. They were just pet names, little terms of endearment, but fitting nonetheless. For Astrid was always bold and bright and dazzling. Whereas I was delicate and fragile, easily wilted.
I recall reaching out to touch one of the silken blooms, then drawing my hand back quickly at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind me. I turned to find a pair of raven-black eyes fixed on mine. The boy was impossiblyhandsome – tall and lithe, with marble-fair skin and sharply chiselled, dark features. Only this wasn’t just any boy.
This was the Crown Prince of Ostacre.
Panic reared, and I stumbled backwards, nearly knocking over the vase.
Concern creased his perfect face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
I began to tremble, flinching as the movement aggravated the welts on my back.
The prince shook his head apologetically. ‘No, please, I’m not – I just wanted to –’ He cut himself off, took a deep breath and smiled. And it was such a shy, sweet smile that I felt the frenzied clamour of my fear fade to a soft echo. ‘I’m … I’m Haldyn,’ he said.
I stared at him, utterly bewildered. Why was he introducing himself as if I didn’t know exactly who he was? Why was he talking to me at all?
Hal took a small step forward. ‘I saw what you did for that young boy, at the feast.’
