Page 22 of The Withering Wood

“Lost,” Cerise spat, “as if we simply could not find our way home, rather than being discarded from one.”

“I apologize; I meant no offense. I’m merely surprised, since most of Vhypael’s children remain with a temple.”

“Yes, though not out of want. It is a cruel place.” Her teeth ground together, thinking of all the children who were either taken by other temples or forced to remain in Vhypael’s since no one wanted them. Some, like herself, joined the war effort, only to be abandoned once more. If they survived.

She had no love for the other orphans, since they were in constant competition for food and clothes there was little space for friendship, outside of the one with Eirwen. Yet the fates of most of Vhypael’s children were not ones she’d wish for any child, rival or no.

“So I’ve heard,” the prince replied.

“Have you?” Cerise snapped, rage simmering behind her ribs. “Then tell me whose idea it was to allow forced sterilization of children.”

The prince stopped in his tracks. “What?”

She whirled, jaw clenched and knuckles white around Beloved, a scream bubbling in her throat. But the appalled, shocked expression on the prince’s face smothered the flame.

Maybe he didn’t know that part. Maybe it was a secret of the temple. Or maybe that’s what she needed to believe to stomach traveling with him.

He could just be a good actor.

“Cerise. Please tell me I heard you wrong.”

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep the memory from rising. From remembering the masked clerics forcing her to breathe the smoke of Zyrdriel’s Mercy until her mind went black and the terrible ache that rippled through her body for weeks after.

“No, you didn’t. Every one of Vhypael’s children are sterilized. How could us pathetic orphans ever rise beyond our circumstances? Better to prevent us from creating more ‘lost’ children. From taking more resources from the crown and temple.”

The prince hesitated, then whispered, “I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t know.”

Whether he knew or not, the burning coil around her heart squeezed tighter and all she wanted was to forget it. She turned on her heel, continuing their hike.

“Apologize to Eirwen, not me. She was always the one who dreamed of family. I never wanted the damned things.”

They walked in several minutes of silence, snow crunching gently beneath their feet. Cerise could tell from the furrow in his brow his mind swam with questions, yet he held his tongue. Wise, since she might snap if he continued to press about her time in Vhypael’s Temple. “Well, you escaped. Others must have been able to do so, too.”

“There’s no such thing as escape in this nightmare of a world,” Cerise grumbled.

The prince had nothing to say to that.

They passed by runes they destroyed when the prince was a bear, the grove where they fought Vraethik. The snow swallowed any sign of their battle, hiding the bloodshed and footprint scuffles.

Yet it wasn’t enough to bury Zyrdriel’s Mercy.

The perky flowers swayed in the breeze, the one spot of color amidst the black and white landscape.

The prince darted to a cluster, falling to his knees, hands hovering around the blooms. Either color blind as a bear or too distracted, he must not have noticed them the first time they were here.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Cerise rolled her tongue behind her lip while her jaw tightened. “It is.”

“I’d heard rumor it still grew but didn’t quite believe it.” His fingers stroked the petals, somehow delicate despite their size. “How is it possible?”

“Don’t ask me. Ask Zyrdriel.”

He chuckled, then shoved away the snow and dug through the ice-crusted ground, unearthing the lily by the root ball. “I know how you feel about this, but it may be worth having on hand.”

“Do as you wish, prince,” Cerise said through clenched teeth, chest tightening with suppressed irritation. Everyone was too enamored with this plant. She walked on, leaving the prince to dig up his precious drugs.

A few minutes later, she heard the shuffle of hastened snowshoes. The prince slowed his stride as he caught up, matching her pace.