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The words were like droplets of sap on my heart, thick and uncomfortable but somehow warm and sweet. My eyes flooded, and I didn’t exactly know why, but the tears quickly crested and began falling down my cheeks. “You will never move on,” she started, petite, wrinkled hands pouring powder into liquid and stirring it with a long stick. “You will never forget. It will never stop hurting. It will be a part of the load you carry for the rest of your life. And that load will never get lighter, rather you will grow stronger. That’s how it’s been for me, with Novis.” My lip quivered as I dropped my face into my hands, the utter exhaustion threatening to break me once again. “You have held yourself together as your world fell apart. You have been the solid earth under your mother’s feet. You were never a victim.” She laid her tools down, and raised her head to face me. “You’re a warrior. You’vealwaysbeen a warrior,fire burned and ocean tumbled.”
“Fire burned and ocean tumbled?”
“A stone can be put to the fire and end up burned, but it will not crumble. It can be thrown around by the sea, jagged edges smoothed by the waves, but it will not crumble.” Her deep brown eyes beheld me with reverence. “You will not crumble, Petra.”
The sobs took over then, violent and loud and all consuming.
But she was right.
I was a fucking warrior, fire burned and ocean tumbled.
???
Tiny raindrops showered the city in the dull mid-morning light. Walking through the misty rain, I felt the moisture seeping into my boots. I let the feeling remind me of what was real, what was happening now. What I was about to do.
It was far earlier than midday, but I stood in front of the sooty rubble that had been our house. Our house may have been bare and in disarray, but it was stillhome. Numbness threatened me, but I pushed it back as I stepped into the ash, the burned remains damp from the rain.
I stood where my parents’ room had been, the little cove at the bottom of the stairs. I tried to find my Da’s lingering scent in the air but all I smelled was stale, charred wood. Their straw mattress had disintegrated. What remained of their headboard crumbled into ashes as dark as night.
I turned to where the staircase would have risen. How many times had Larka yelled that breakfast was ready up the creaky steps? How many times had we run up those stairs giggling or bickering or scheming? A pile of blackened planks jutted out from the ground, remnants of the time Larka and I spent in our little room.
The kitchen, or what was left of it, was just like the other parts of the house. Destroyed beyond recognition. I crouched down, running my hand through the soot, hoping with every ounce of my soul that I’d pull Da’s tiny lapis lazuli stone out.
“Saying goodbye?” a warm male voice called from behind me. I whirled around to find Lord Castemont standing with his hands behind his back, Tyrak’s at his side in leathers, black hair shining in the sun free of his helmet. I wasn’t sure how to respond. I rubbed the back of my neck as I realized Iwassaying goodbye. Castemont smiled. “You’re early.”
“You’reearly,” I countered, not at all concerned with my sharp tone toward a Low Royal.
I should have been concerned, though, considering what he had offered. He chuckled, a deep, jovial noise that warmed my bones. “Have you made your decision?”
I straightened my tunic, stepping over soot and ash as I approached him. I inhaled deeply, letting the mild chill in the air deep into my lungs. This was it. “I accept.”
His face lit up immediately as he clapped his hands together. “Good decision,” he laughed. I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, my cheeks reddening slightly. “So, Prisma? Ockhull? We can find you two a nice place near the patisserie.”
I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like in other districts. The thought made me…uncomfortable. Itchy. Awkward. How the hell would we fit in in Prisma? Ockhull may not have been as rich as Prisma, but what it lacked in funds it made up for in pretentiousness. None of the other districts appealed to me.
“Inkwell.”
“Inkwell?” he repeated back to me.
“Yes. I’d like to stay in Inkwell.”
“Why, pray tell, would you want that?”
“It’s home.” The words flowed so naturally that my tongue felt like a rock that had been smoothed by a stormy sea.
He inhaled deeply and flashed a look to Tyrak. “Very well, then. I will arrange the finest living quarters that this…corner of Eserene has to offer.” I couldn’t ignore the slight crinkle of his nose as he said it. I breathed back my anger. I felt so unstable, so close to erupting at any moment.
“Thank you, Lord Castemont,” I bit out.
“This is the start of something very special, Miss Petra.”
???
“And it’s paid for?” my mother murmured, apprehension in her words but not her tone.
“Yes, Ma. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
Solise peered over her workspace at me, her face grim.
