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Chapter
Eleven
“Marion.”
I started at the voice, turning to regard Lorik, who stood on the edge of the clearing. My sister’s grave was a few stones’ throw away from my cottage, beyond the protection spell’s barrier but shielded by a circle of giant river trees with thick, velvety leaves. Through the thick boughs, I could spy the golden light pouring from my cottage windows and realized it was night already.
How long had I been standing here?
Veras had purchased the white, thick columns and the decorative headstone, etched in the finest of silver Allavari metals. I had refused initially, but like always, he never cared what I wanted. He’d done it anyway. Her shrine. There was even a little pedestal for an offering. I usually placed bright, fragrant sprigs of whatever forest flowers I found during my foraging or a few biscuits, mixed with currants and nuts, that I’d baked that day.
It was a beautiful grave, even I had to admit it. More than I’d ever be able to afford for her. Aysia had liked that about Veras. That he’d spoiled her because she’d grown up with nothingexcept stolen bracelets and lashings when she’d stayed outside too late. He had given her the world, laid it at her feet like he’d laid the wreath at mine.
“Such sad eyes, little witch,” Lorik commented, his tone gentle.
He stepped toward me, his blue orbs even more vibrant in the darkness. It always seemed to me that he grew stronger in the dark. His footsteps were sure, his back straight, his wings flared. He lookednormal. Healthy, even, despite the bandage on his shoulder, one I’d forgotten to check and poultice this afternoon.
“What can I do to make you feel better?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I lost track of time.”
“Don’t apologize to me when you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said firmly. His eyes strayed down to what I was holding in my hands. “Do you want me to destroy that? Bury it far away? Set it on fire, perhaps? Fly it up to the Massadian Mountains and drop it off the cliff?”
Confused, I looked down and saw I was still holding on to Veras’s wreath. I choked out a small, disbelieving laugh, surprised by the suggestions though they helped cut through the daze I’d found myself in.
“No, no,” I finally said, giving him a small, shy smile. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll make the offering, just as Veras wanted.”
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
“He’s right,” I said quietly. My mind had been racing ever since he’d left. It had never stopped. I felt drained. I felt…strangely at peace. “She would have loved this wreath. She loved nature. She loved being in nature, being outside. She would collect lakelight leaves when they turned color this time of year and make a crown of them. She did that every single year and then hung them to dry so she’d be able to look at their color untilthe next season. I still have them somewhere—all these dried crowns she wove, likely crumbled to dust in a chest.”
“It’s all right to be angry at him, Marion,” Lorik told me. “I don’t know the specifics, but I heard about what happened in Rolara—villagers talk. He was careless. He didn’t protect her when he should have.”
“I’ve been angry for so long,” I whispered. “I’m tired of it.”
Lorik’s hand came to the middle of my back, and I pressed myself into him without a moment’s hesitation. He slid it down until it curled around my hip.
“Do you find it difficult to forgive those who have hurt you?” he asked. His tone was careful, evenly measured. The question struck me as earnest, almost solemn.
“Yes,” I confessed. Lorik blew out a sharp breath. “I try so hard not to hurt other people. I’m careful with my words, I consider their feelings in everything I do, even at the cost to me sometimes. So when other people hurt me, nothing feels worse.”
“Being hurt is a natural part of life, Marion,” he informed me. “The Kylorr have a saying—from blood, you overcome. You need to be cut deeply in order to be strong.”
“And that’s where I’m weakest, I think,” I told him. “I’m a healer because I didn’t like to see Aysia cry at night when Correl would punish her. I’m a healer because my nature is not to harm but to heal. So why can’t I heal myself?”
“Oh, my love,” Lorik said, his tone gruff. And I realized I liked that term of endearment entirely too much coming off his lips. “There’s a part of me that just wants to keep you shielded from every dark thing in this world. Even me.”
Looking up at him in surprise, I saw something flicker over his face. A shimmering.
“But that would be a lie. That would be a disservice to you,” he continued. “If you were mine, I’d want to protect you without keeping you caged to keep you safe. Perhaps Veras was tryingto do the same with Aysia. Only he didn’t protect her enough. Would you have rather he kept her tucked away in his estate? So not even a splinter could have pricked her?”
“No, of course not,” I said quietly, sighing. “But it was much more than a splinter that killed her.”
“Do you think you’ll ever forgive him?” Lorik wondered, his eyes shifting to Aysia’s grave. Moonlight speared the headstone, and the metal shimmered and gleamed. How could I have let so much time get away from me?
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I do know that I can’t do this anymore. Every time I see him, every time I hear his name in the village, I get so angry. And it affects me. Like today—I’ve been standing here for hours, and I didn’t even realize it. This hatred is taking away my life, and I don’t want to let it anymore.
“So I don’t know if I can forgive him, but I’ve decided I’m going to try to move on from the past. Because he’s right…I know he did love her. Deeply. He made her very happy, even though the end was tumultuous between us. I can’t just erase that. Shechosehim. I can accept that. And we have our love for her in common, and so he will always be part of my life, no matter how much I wish he wasn’t.”
