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“Brother, tell me what you’re thinking,” Konrad says, flicking his gaze to the knife I’m still holding onto.
Without answering him, I score a line across the palm of my hand, the sharp pain only taking the edge off these emotions that refuse to fucking leave as blood seeps from the wound. But relief is short-lived. I need more than this temporary respite. Being with One wasn’t enough. Hurting myself isn’t enough. The way I’m feeling now is far worse than when I was a kid. At least back then the pain worked.
You need Nothing to soothe the pain, that’s why,my internal voice scoffs.
“No, I need to inflict it,” I grind out under my breath.
“What?” Konrad asks.
“Nothing.”
He gives me a sharp look before narrowing his eyes at me. “What do you really think about the legend of The Weeping Tree?” he asks, changing tactics. He wants me to open up, to talk. But talking is dangerous, it’s an outlet for emotions to run free and I cannot let him see how deeply affected I am by Christy’s death and by Leon’s betrayal,andthe fact that she’s still alive.
That she’s still within my reach.
“It’s a story. Nothing more,” I’m quick to respond.
“So you’re saying our family history is just a story, a fable?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Do I believe that kindness fucked our family over? Yes, yes I do. Do I think Christy is the one who’ll fix us?” I laugh then, and it’s bitter, full of dark and hateful things. “No. No, I don’t.”
You’re lying to yourself. That’s why you want her dead because you’re afraid she can heal you. You’re scared to be human because being human means you’ll feel pain a thousand times worse than the lashes to your back and chest, and cuts to your fingers and hands.
I grit my jaw, balling my hands into fists on my lap and forcing the voice away.
“And the blood?” Konrad asks, completely unaware of my internal struggle.
“Sap. It isn’t blood, Konrad.”
“What about the letter from Nessa?”
“Bullshit.”
“Bullshit?” he questions, taking another sip of wine.
“Too much of a coincidence. I've been thinking about it a lot. None of this adds up.”
“You think Thirteen wrote the letter?”
I raise a brow at him. “You believe she didn’t?”
His fingers drum against the table as he considers it. “She used her voice, Jakub. You and I both know what that means.”
“It means she’s gotten over her trauma.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “It means she felt strongly enough about saving Zero’s life to find her voice to try and stop us. She didn’t write the letter. What’s more, she’s convinced that everything within it is true.”
“So who wrote it, if not her?” I ask him, knowing full well he’s on the same wavelength as me, but needing to hear him say it.
Konrad meets my gaze. “It can only be The Deana-dhe.”
“My thoughts exactly. They are purveyors of truth and lies. They have the ability to extract information out ofanyone.”
“You think we have a traitor in our midst?”
I nod. “There’s no other explanation. Someone here at the castle is giving The Deana-dhe the information that they need and they’re using it to fuck with our heads.”
“I agree, that’s the only explanation, but what I don’t understand is why push us towards Zero?”
