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She lifted the egg splattered spoon at me as though it was the greatest weapon, one that won wars and defeated ancient demons and witches. Auriol looked down her nose, with narrowed eyes which screamed with threats. “No more then, understand? I am going and that is the end of that.”
“Then I am coming with you.”
“But you never go.” Auriol almost sounded disappointed in the idea of me following.
“Nor do you.” I shrugged, trying to keep my expression void of the genuine panic I felt inside. “I suppose it will be a first for us both. Don’t you just love the idea of spending some time with your brother? Quality time? We could feast on sweet breads and eat cured meats until our bellies explode. Make the most of it.”
Even though I had stayed clear of the immortal’s visits, I still watched the festivities that Tithe put on in honour of their return. Stalls overwhelmed with food and the contagious laughter that came from unlimited tankards of ale and stronger spirits. The streets were full of Tithe’s blinded occupants dressed in finery which they could hardly afford, and only came out of their closets once a year. It was as if they were peacocks exposing feathers to catch the attention of the fey-kind. For the unlucky few, it worked.
But no one was like my sister. Not a single person in Tithe could come close to comparing. And that fact had me pushing the pile of peppered eggs around the plate as I tried to keep my anxiety from overwhelming me entirely.
“You are welcome…”
Ishook myself out of my head, forcing a smile that even I knew Auriol would never believe. “Are you not joining me?”
She had only given me a plate, her chair left neatly tucked beneath the table, forgotten and unwanted.
“I am a wanted woman,” she said, brows furrowed as she scanned my face for a hint as to what caused my turmoil. She would never outright ask. Auriol had learned never to pry, which I respected. “I am heading into town to pick up some last-minute supplies for tomorrow. Kaye is helping me put together my outfit for the festival.”
It took everything in my power not to kick up from the chair and demand that she did nothing of the sort. Instead, I focused on the plate, stabbing the fork into the pillowy clumps of egg I toyed with.
“Have fun,” I lied.
“Could you at least pretend to be excited with me?” Auriol leaned in, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, her fingers interlocking over my chest where she held on.
“I just don’t want you getting your hopes up,” I replied coldly. It was not a complete lie.
“That I might not get picked?” Auriol’s voice was equally cold. She pulled away from me, clearly over my lack of enthusiasm and vibrant displeasure at the idea of her being chosen by the elves. “Do you really think it is such a terrible thing for me to be chosen? How can you sit there and tell me you do not wish for a better life when you spent half our childhood conjuring fantasies of leaving Tithe and living in the world beyond as though those fucking bloodsucking pricks haven’t poisoned it all!”
I stared at my plate, arms and legs numb. Auriol stood behind me, breathing heavily and although I knew I should turn and face her, tell her she was right, and I was wrong… I couldn’t do it. That was one lie I was not prepared to say.
I kept silent, counting each of her deep breaths as I waited for her to lash out again. I deserved it.
“Sometimes you need to remember…” Auriol trailed off.
“Say it.” I knew what was coming. It had been for a long time and part of me desired for her to speak the words aloud.
“It doesn’t matter.”
I pleaded, “Say it.”
Auriol sighed, one filled with years of turmoil and dark emotion. She was always better at letting it out and making sense of how she felt. I admired her for it.
“You are not them, Arlo. I do not blame you for stepping into their shoes and doing what you had too as the oldest of us both. But you are not Dad. You are not Mum. I think it is time you remember that and release the burden. It would be a shame if it ruined what little we had left.”
She left swiftly, feet slapping against the floor as she hurried towards her room.
Just like the coward I recognised myself to be, I swallowed what I truly wished to say and kept it buried in the darkest part of my soul, wondering how much room I had left there before those feelings I kept hidden had nowhere else to go but out.
FAENIR
Claria was not the Queen of Evelina by choice. The title should have been passed to my mother many years ago. She should have been the one to retire my grandmother from the heavy burden of the crown.
Should have.
Except I had killed my mother and prevented that from ever happening. And Claria had spent the hundred years that followed, making sure I did not forget.
Not that I ever would.
