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A hollow laugh escapes his lips. “If only.”
I remind myself that he is attending the funeral of his friend today, a man who is dead because of me, who won’t even be properly mourned because of me.
In any event, this is what I wanted. His distance.
Even if I never thought it would be quite so easy to achieve.
He turns to go, calling for Khijhana to follow. Logically, I know that she needs to go outside, but something in his high-handed tone makes it feel more intentional, like he is hurt and lonely and wants me to feel the same.
With the two of them gone, I’m left with my own bitter thoughts for company.
I sit up to stretch before examining the shackle around my ankle. The skin beneath the iron is already raw and itchy, but I don’t take the time to remove it when I have no way of knowing whether he will return with Khijha before the funeral.
The minutes slip past before the melancholy sound of a horn rings out. It effectively sucks all of the air from the room. My chest is tight, and I can suddenly think of nothing but death. Willem’s. Mine.
The news will reach my sisters soon. Will Aika be angry that I had the nerve to die before her? And what about Mel? Will this extinguish the light that has always shone so brightly from her?
Tears prick at the back of my eyes with each note of the haunting song.
Can I find a way to tell them I am safe?
No sooner has the thought crossed my mind than I dismiss it. The point is to keep them safe, not put them in even more danger.
I pace the room, and the metal chain on my leg seems to echo the melody of the sad song creeping in through the window.
Once I’ve exhausted the possibilities of my small length of chain, I pull myself into the bathing room. How long are Jokithan funerals?The comfort of a shower without my chain isn’t worth the risk of Einar discovering I am not bound by it, so I keep the cursed thing on.
The mechanism is fairly simple to work with a few levers. The heat soaks into my frozen core, and I adjust the lever that controls the water flow until the white noise of the rushing water drowns out the music trying to seep its way into my weary soul.
I focus on taking deep breaths, on thinking about anything besides my sisters and my funeral and the way that death seems determined to cling to every single piece of my life but refuses to claim me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Einar
Skarde continues to play the death song while my people bow their heads in respect for the life that was stolen.
If only they knew.
It didn’t take long to spread the word of Zaina’s death. Everyone had watched as I’d carried her limp body to my room, and they hadn’t lain eyes on her since. But while lying might come easily to her, it makes me want to be sick.
I hate watching them grieve and seeing the way they had softened toward her. They mourn for the idea of a woman who never existed, for a person they felt accepted by. They’ve been through so much these past two decades, the truth of her betrayal isn’t something they deserve to suffer as well.
Gunnar wrapped Willem’s body and brought it to rest on the pyre before anyone else made their way toward the farce of a funeral we would give Zaina.
Willem deserved better. He deserved to live, and if not, then at least to die with dignity instead of being bludgeoned over the head and stuffed in a closet.
I grind my teeth, my fists clenching as I remember the quiet, gentle man.It is a disgrace to betray his memory this way.
Another, more traitorous part of my brain can hardly stand the idea that if Zaina had her way, she really would be the one burning on that pyre -- if there had even been anything left of her to bring home.
That even now, she wishes for that.
At least my grief is real, for anyone who is watching. I can pretend for a while longer if it gets me answers, and maybe even another clue toward the cure. After all, if Zaina worked with Ulla, maybe she has some insight into the shrew’s thinking. Maybe she knows about the poison.
Maybe Willem will be the last of my people to die in this accursed form.
I remind myself that making a liar out of his corpse was a necessary evil to achieve that end. If Zaina is right, and there are people who will try to verify her death, I’ll need real bones and ashes to prove it.
