Page 92 of Fallacies

All I can do is force down more oxygen, keeping my gaze on him as I dry up my tears. Little by little. I use the tight grip he has on my hand as an anchor, and when I’ve finally made some sense out of the hurricane of emotions ripping through me, I force out, “I want to kill her.”

Callan doesn’t flinch at my words; he only seems relieved to have heard me speak. Grip loosening on my hand, he exhales. “Baby, she’s already dead.”

It should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.

I shake my head, and his brows furrow at my response. “There had to be more to it,” I start. “For her to do this to all of you, to my mother, there had to be more to it. It couldn’t have just been…power.”

“It wasn’t just power,” Callan replies, frowning at my adamant expression. “It was jealousy and greed, too. To the sickest of people, Lucina, that’s all it takes.”

I still don’t believe it. “But how was she able to get through the Banyan?” I counter. “How was she able to get away with it this long?”

“Ceres, Delia, and Laverna forged the Banyan, Lucina. They created Pirn. Ceres had a hand in forming the Banyan’s sentience.” He shrugs. “She must have manipulated it somehow.”

I turn away from him, my teeth starting to chatter.

The sun has only just risen, the trees above us smothering any heat it might be giving off, and I’m too afraid of my magic right now to warm myself with it.

“Lucina.” Callan’s voice takes a more serious tone. “How did you get that Eldral?”

I’m too numb to feel anything but defeat as I roll my lips together, taking a few deep breaths before looking back at him.

I hate myself for all the things I’ve kept from Callan. I’m not even sure how he does it, really—constantly digesting my secrets as they surface.

“My father gave it to me.”

“When?”

I wince. “The night of my first Selumira.”

“First?” he repeats, and when I nod, he blows out a breath, his chin falling to his chest. “Chiaros, Lucina.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is there anything else?” His tone is sharper now, and I understand his frustration. It’s entirely warranted.

Honestly, this is mild compared to what he deserves to feel. What I would feel if the roles were reversed.

“Please, Lucina,” Callan pleads, anger settling into something softer. “For my sanity, is there anything else I need to know?”

It seems senseless to tell him that I used it; knowing I had it in my possession is damning enough, and it’s not like I’d ever take the risk of using it again. Especially after last night.

I rifle through the events of the last few weeks, searching for anything that he might need to know, and Callan is quiet while I think, relief melting the tension in his shoulders when I finally shake my head no.

“Good.” He squeezes my hands. “That’s good.”

I’m almost shocked at his reaction. “You still trust me?”

Callan stares back at me for a moment. “I do,” he says. “I told you, Lucina, your heart is good. But your judgement sometimes…” His voice trails off, and I notice a slight curve to his lips. A sliver of lightheartedness seeping through the cracks in his demeanor.

It’s so refreshing to see that my shoulders sink with the breath I exhale.

“I know,” I agree, finding a weak smile of my own. “I know.”

“Come on.” Callan moves to help me stand, my legs a bit unsteady at first. I notice him glance at the water, the darkened pool slowly returning to its normal color, but his gentle expression still hardens.

“That was…new,” I confess, anticipating the question he’s too hesitant to ask. “I’ll work on it.”

“Lucina, I can⁠—”