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“I don’t mean your apology”—she lifted her chin to the sky and started whispering to herself or to someone above her—“I know I promised never to speak a word of it, but we both know she won’t hear what she needs to without knowing the truth.”
My skin prickled like a cool breeze had blown across it. I knew exactly who Myrrah was whispering her quick prayer to.
“When did she tell you?” My throat had dried completely so each word cracked as I spoke.
Myrrah’s head snapped back down at me. Her brows were wrinkled with worry and pity. It was wrong that she should be so concerned with my grief when hers was so fresh. “The night it happened,” she whispered gently.
I wiped at my eye before a tear could fall. “I’d always wondered, but you never said anything. Never even hinted.”
Myrrah made a noise that sounded like a grunt. “There were many close calls. Hildy and I had several fights about it over theyears, but she knew you best and she thought a confrontation would only make it worse.”
My chest splintered, splitting like a base of a tree, jagged and fractured as the weight of everything Hildegard had done for me came crashing down. Myrrah pushed herself closer, until the wheels of her chair scraped against my knees. She pulled my head onto her lap and stroked my hair.
Brenna was the only one who had ever comforted me like that. Somehow, finally talking about her death to Myrrah made it feel like it was her hand on my head. When I closed my eyes I could feel the warmth of her skin and the way her blond locks tickled my back as she curved her calves around my waist.
“Hildy knew she would never take off her cloak. That decision was made before she met you or me.” Myrrah sighed, but there was no bitterness in it. “We knew that each day we got to spend together was a blessing and we both considered ourselves very much blessed.” Myrrah’s strokes slowed and we both listened as the wind blew through the tall trees like a soft lullaby. “Neither of us were angry at you for how you handled yourself in that throne room. Damien meant for his question to be cruel and shocking, butyoubestedhim.”
I scoffed against her knee. A rough finger tugged at my chin as Myrrah lifted my head to meet her gaze. “Do you agree that I knew Hildy best out of anyone?”
I nodded.
“Then believe me when I tell you that she did not die meek or angry, she diedproud. Proud ofyou, Keera.” Myrrah’s hand shook as it held my cheek. “If everything had gone to plan, I would have died with her. But I’m glad I’m here to tell you this.”
I tilted my head to the side and blinked back the last of my tears. “That was never her plan.”
Myrrah’s laugh caught in her throat as I pulled a piece of parchment from my trouser belt. Its folds were so worn the scrap had almost split in multiple places, but the words she had written were still legible. It had not left my person since Gerarda had handed it to me.
Myrrah’s hands trembled as she delicately unfolded the letter and read it again and again.
I trust Gerarda with your life and the lives of the Shades. Listen to her for once in your life. I know I couldn’t save your love, but please do what you can to save mine.—H
“I can’t say I’m surprised …” Myrrah’s voice caught as she lifted the letter. “Can I keep this?”
I closed her fingers around the parchment. “It’s yours.”
I stood and wiped the dirt from my trousers as Myrrah read the letter one last time. I gestured to the back of her chair, offering my help and she nodded. We walked down the path back to the city as I slowly pushed her chair through the well-worn earth. “Did you ever picture yourself a life without a cloak or that Shield pin around your neck?”
Myrrah chuckled. “All the time. Every mission I took, I’d imagine what would happen if I sailed my ship away from the kingdom’s shores for good, left it all behind. How much worse could the other realms be for a Halfling?”
“You never tried?”
“Never.” Myrrah looked back up at the starry skies. “I suspect it’s the reason I couldn’t get Hildy to sail with me. She knew that I would never leave her, just like I knew she’d never leave that island.”
My fingers gripped the handles of her chair so fiercely the front of it tipped up. I loosened my hold and kept us going along thebeach. “I know the feeling. Even though I left my title behind, I can still feel the weight of that blade pushed against my throat. I don’t know if it will ever go away.”
Myrrah lifted one of her hands over her shoulder to tap my hand. “You and Hildy were always so alike. Thick-headed and strong-willed with a tendency to pick up every tragedy as your own. Don’t let your need to save everyone strangle you.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “I won’t.”
“Or drown you.”
That would be much harder.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
NIKOLAI HAD CLOAKEDthe entire city in shades of crimson for the funeral. Long thick trails of red silks hung from the upper branches and burls, others were wrapped around vines that swayed just over the ground. He had even fitted some of the faelight with the same filter he had made for Maerhal’s spectactles, this time the material was stained so the orbs lit the procession with soft scarlet rays.
The entire city surrounded the Myram tree, some looking down on the large pyre from above while others crowded at the base of nearby trunks. They were dressed in gowns of every color of flame, as was the tradition in the Faeland, but it only made the circle of black around the pyre more severe.
