Page 131 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“But he burns rather nicely.” I turned to him. “Any news for me?”

He took one long puff and then flicked the rest of the cigarette in the fire. “It is confirmed, your father’s men have successfully infiltrated Adriata through Kirkwall with hopes to retrieve your uncle. I let them through like you asked me to. What do you want us to do next?”

“They will definitely retrieve someone,” I said. “Have a soldier of ours direct them onto the Adriatian isles out in the Moor Sea and get Mal for me.”

Tristin held an arm out, blocking me from leaving. “I’ll have to report to Alaric that you are thinking of doing something about this.”

Did she just use the ‘I’ll tell your father’ threat on me? “I’m shivering, Tristin. Truly,” I said, throwing the cigarette butt on the fire and giving her a wink before heading to wash the stench off of me.

Midway to my room, Alaric caught me. His features pinched in a cringe when he smelled what was on me. “You’re smiling. Where have you been?”

“The dungeons. They are lovely this time of the year. You should visit.”

His face twisted a little when he reached close to me. “I gather you’ve burned someone?”

“Getting sharper by the year at your young age.”

The moment he took note of my red eyes, his expression fell. He knew immediately who I had burned. “Kid, look at me.” He rested a hand on my arm, the most comfort he knew how to give, and the smile I’d put on faded. “Don’t expect it to be all fixed now. You carry all that he has done to you, not him. Now that he is gone, it won’t mean all that it will be gone with him. It is not what will heal you.”

“It felt good, Alaric. You’ve known that truth of mine for years. You know I don’t do it because I have to do it or because I think it will make me feel better. It feels good to hurt. Liberating. The more he screamed, the harder I wanted him to scream next.”

“You are not cruel, kid. What you are is not cruel. What he has made you is cruel.”

“I only know how to be cruel. Nothing else makes sense to me anymore.” If I behaved humanly, how he had tried so hard to teach me, I felt like a tear in the reality—like I didn't belong. Like my purpose was wrong.

His hands fell to his sides. “You can’t let them win. You can’t let them ruin you like this, kid.”

“Already ruined,” I said, passing him and heading to my room.

Pen was already there, tidying the sheets like I hadn't spent every single night for the past two months in Adriata. She hurried to the bathing chambers the moment she saw me and the noise of water running filled the emptiness of sound. The grey of my room that I loved, the silver satin sheets, the silver bedstead, furniture, the glittering grey stones decorating my ceiling that I pretended were the starry night sky when I squinted—they all seemed so dull all of a sudden. And so did the quiet stormy sky framed by my balcony. The world was numb. Or perhaps it was just me.

Pen didn’t say anything. Not when she peeled my bloodied clothes off. Not when she scrubbed the dried blood from my hands. Not when she ran the sponge over my scars and I flinched. Not when she helped me dry off and sat me down to brush my wet hair. Not when I stared at that dark reflection of mine shape shift into a giant of terror. Not when tears rolled down my eyes.

She didn’t say anything, but she cried along with me without a single word.

She wept harder than me.

I really didn’t understand. I understood none of it. Why I felt like I did. Why did nothing feel like I’d imagined it to be? Why the scars on my back still felt fresh every time I took a deep breath. Why I felt so little again. Why even dead, Murdoc had so much power over me.

I’d never cried then. Why was I crying now?

I’d gotten my final word—my final punch. I’d given him a piece of my own cruelty, yet it didn’t satisfy me as I thought it would.

Pen wiped away the heavy tears streaming down her face. “Should I,” she hiccupped, still crying. “Should I get you a peach? It makes me happy when I eat them.”

That made me smile. “I’d like that.”

She rushed out and returned shortly, out of breath, cradling a bunch of the fuzzy fruit.

They were sweet, I’m sure they were, but I tasted nothing but ash. “What time is it, Pen?”

“It is sunset,” she murmured through sobs.

I stood, reached my balcony and bolted to Adriata.

Sunset in Amaris was almost as warm as a lover's hand on your back. For a couple of moments, I stood in his balcony marvelling at the twisting of colours that were beginning to paint dusk. As I saw the skies shift, a wave of peace brushed me. Or perhaps it was the cool summer wind of this cursed kingdom. Whatever it was, I wanted it again. It made me feel something—something warm.

The glass doors behind me slammed open. “Snow, what is the matter, my love?” Kilian’s voice had taken a deep, worried edge. When he spun me to face him, his gaze widened and cracked. “Please tell me you’re not hurt.” His hands touched every inch of my body in urgency, searching for wounds. He’d never find them. All the wounds hid under healed scars. They’d even managed to trick me.