Kelara’s chin trembled the rest of the day. She failed to say a word or even look at me.
But that was to be expected. I had yet to forgive myself, either.
My elder sister curled up beside Asha’s sleeping form, one arm wrapped around her, no trace of a goodbye on her lips. I slowly closed the door, the last of dusk’s light reflecting off a tear trailing down Kelara’s cheek.
I headed back into the living area, where Mama sat reading in the candlelight. She licked her thumb and rubbed it against her index finger before turning a page.
I joined her, letting out a deep breath as I sank onto the worn settee.
“Will she be alright?” she asked without glancing my way.
“Yes.”
Mama placed a hand on my knee. “Asha’s a quick one. It wasn’t your fault.”
I pressed my tongue to my teeth, welcoming the sting. “It was.”
Mama patted my thigh, then turned another page. “It was a good thing Prince Thomas was there.”
I ought to voice my agreement, to proclaim his giftedness, but the words wouldn’t come. The taste of blood forced me to relax my jaw.
At my silence, Mama flipped another page. “I know you said to get rid of Papa’s books, but I found one I thought you’d like to keep.”
I failed to respond, mind reeling.
“I tucked it into your bindle. Just promise me you’ll read it before you toss it.”
“Alright.” My voice was hollow, and so was the air in the house, empty of its usual joy and laughter. It reminded me too much of the day Papa died, sadness seeping into the pores of the home. And now, another family member was bedridden and lost in the grip of greedy slumber.
I tossed and turned all night, replaying my conversation with the prince at the pond. How could arrogance come so easily to him? Why would he assume I was Asha’s mother, when I was so young? Kelara was a good eight years older than I, and even the title of aunt still felt ill-fitting.
And how dare he lecture me on taking care of my family, when he abandoned his own most of the year to pursue magical studies?Everyone knew the mage prince didn’t just view himself above commoners, but above his fellow nobles.
Beneath it all, my fury and fear, lurked the rebuke I could barely face: how could I have put Asha in such danger?
The next morning, I slung my belongings over my shoulder and let myself out into the silence of an early dawn, before even the birds had awoken. My jaw was set as I pulled the bindle closer, its string biting into my shoulder, my temples throbbing. I had to move quickly. A list of duties awaited me.
I returned to the palace, to the pond, to an arrogant prince whom I owed more than I cared to ever admit.
The next morning, the palace was shrouded in darkness when I awoke. I stretched, the low, worried whispers of my two roommates drifting toward me.
“What did you say about Ella?” I mumbled, finally catching a piece of their conversation.
Anna appeared by my bedside, her usual sneer traded for a furrowed brow. “She came in with a black eye,” she murmured.
My body stilled.
This was my fault.
I should have pressed Ella harder. Inquired more. Not let her brush me off when the pink handprints, the thumb-shaped bruises, the dark scars appeared on her body in the days after her visits home.
“She won’t talk about it,” Anna added.
I ignored her, scrambling to my feet and throwing a thin robeover my shoulders. I hurried down the hall, quickening when I saw Ella’s blond curls bouncing as she turned onto the palace stairs.
She hesitated at the sight of me.
“Hi Lyra,” she said.
