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Her shoulders fell at that response. Normally I’d have left it at that, at the simple, obvious answer, but something about her crestfallen expression had me speaking again. “People become stronger and better able to handle the unpleasant parts of life, but it doesn’t become easier. I wish I could tell you that now my life is perfect, that I found some secret which erases all the pain in life, but that isn’t how it works. Life hurts—every life. Show me the richest, most handsome man in the world and I’ll still be able to drag out the hidden pain he holds.”
“What’s the point, then?”
“I’m no philosopher, songbird. I only know that I won’t find any meaning tomorrow if I don’t survive today.”
She snorted softly, as if she found the answer cryptic.
I hadn’t thought so, but others often misunderstood me, often thought I spoke in riddles rather than bluntly. I blamed that misunderstanding on my age. To the young, I no doubt sounded cryptic, like when an adult explains complex issues to a child. They simply lacked enough of the background I had to comprehend it.
“I think you’re afraid,” I said softly.
She lifted her gaze to mine, her hazel eyes narrowed.
You don’t like that, do you?
“You want to be able to use your powers, but you’re afraid that doing so means accepting what you are. This is even more the case when it comes to honing thatpower down to a precise weapon. You feel you’re turning your back on the life you wish to return to. You don’t know how you’ll fit back into that life if you continue to grow into the siren you are.”
She swallowed hard. Even if I hadn’t been sure that I’d guessed correctly, that proved it.
“The thing is,” I told her, “if you don’t learn this, if you don’t give in and embrace exactly what you are, you won’t survive long enough to get your old life back.”
“Do you really think it’s possible for me to get my old life back?”
I wanted to lie, to tell her it was, if for no other reason than to selfishly keep her closer, to give her false hope to keep going. Instead, I pushed off from the table I leaned against. “Honestly? No. I’ve never seen a single shade manage it, and I can’t imagine you being the first. Still, the only chance you have is to actually put in the work.”
I turned my back on her, walking toward the door. “However, I can tell you that very slim chance dwindles to nothing if you choose to let fear rule you, if you decide to sulk and wish instead of doing anything. People thought you were a rich, useless heiress when you came here, and this behavior only proves them right.”
An odd sound struck my ears a heartbeat before a sense of danger made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. Wendigos were not creatures taken down easily, and I was old enough to have well-honed senses.
I twisted, my hand shifting into my true form on instinct, the limb elongating, the fingers lengthening and the claws growing in the blink of an eye.Something struck the palm of my hand, my body moving to catch it without a clue as to what it was.
Hera sat on the desk, still, her normally passive eyes nearly burning with anger, the sort of sight that should have driven a man backward out of fear.
I looked down into my hand to find the apple, and on the table the boxes sat undisturbed.
I let out a dark chuckle. “The first day I saw you, all but shaking on the floor after dealing with Brax, I was sure you wouldn’t last a week. Keep this up, and you might just outlive all of us.”
I lifted the apple up, then allowed my powers to draw from it, to pull out everything alive until it withered. I didn’t stop until the apple turned to dust in my hand, until the particles blew out of my palm.
The anger that had been on her face turned to fear—which was good, right? I rarely let others see my power, too aware of the negative reactions. Knowing something and seeing it were two very different things. It took witnessing the ability of wendigos to truly grasp their danger.
So why did I do so then? Why was it that when Hera was actually starting to listen, I felt the need to terrify her?
Because I’m more of a coward than she could ever be. It’s better she figures out what I really am now, before I risk myself again.
I’d survived Larkwood longer than any other shade, had survived this world longer than nearly any other shade, and yet I did what I did out of fear of what that little muted siren could do to me if I let down my guard.
Fear was a far less risky emotion.
Chapter Three
Hera
I tilted my head back and let the sun streaming through the top-floor windows soak into me.
I remembered going tanning in my old life. The scent of the lotion, the tightness of the goggles, the tingle on my skin as the rays warmed me. I’d stopped and moved to spray-on when the risk of skin cancer became too much for me to allow, but I missed it sometimes.
I never realized how much I’d miss sunlight until I got to Larkwood, though. Few places in the building had windows. I’d wondered at first how they could get away with that due to building codes, then remembered where I was.
