Page 859 of Coal Hearts

Not because I wanted to recall the pain but because I wanted to recall them.

Peter and Mollie.

Citra and Kirk.

Suri and Dane and Caishen and Rebeca and Nancy and...

Rachel messaged me often from where she’d moved in with her uncle in Madrid. Her parents were too old to have another baby in the house, but her uncle—who she’d always been close to—had never gotten to raise a child. He and his wife had tried to adopt, but she’d died before they’d been approved.

Rachel said she’d never seen him so happy to have her stay even though she still couldn’t decide if she loved her son or hated him for being Victor’s.

“Ily, baby?”

I looked up from pretending to read in the egg-chair on the patio. The winter chill kept trying to push me inside but...I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to hear my mother and her two sisters laughing as they made Sunday dinner complete with malai kofta and banana blossom curry.

“I’d murder someone for a banana blossom coconut curry from my cousin’s restaurant. He runs it with his wife, and I’ve never found anything as good.”

Peter’s voice tore through my head.

The first night I’d arrived at the jewel’s quarters.

The first hint of his sorrow.

I choked on a sob as I looked up at my mother and did my best to hide my tears. “Yeah, Mama?”

“Come join us. I don’t like to see you out here all alone.” She wiped her hands on a tea towel, giving me a sad grimace.

“I’m okay. Truly.” I plastered a smile over my melancholy. I loved my parents too much to let them continue worrying about me, especially seeing as I’d told them—in heavily redacted sentences—about where I’d been and why I hadn’t been able to come home. I hadn’t told them about Henri’s involvement in stealing me away. I didn’t tell them about the sexual nature of the abuse. But I had confessed that I’d found people who meant the world to me, all while we suffered in sorrow together.

Giving me a knowing look, she said gently, “Would you think about talking to someone like your father suggested?”

I closed my book and shook my head. “Not yet. Maybe soon.”

She studied me before nodding. “If you need me, you know where I am.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll bring you a mango lassi. How about that?”

“Sure.” I gave her a grateful smile, thankful she wasn’t pushing me to socialise. “That would be lovely.”

Bustling back into the kitchen, she reminded me a little of May, the cook in Victor’s kitchens. What’d happened to her? Was she back home with her loved ones?

A stabbing in my heart.

For a second, I feared it was Henri.

That he’d died wherever he was in the world...hunting.

I clung to the hope that I’d feel him. That I’d know if he was in mortal danger by whatever unexplainable connection we shared.

I just wished it allowed us to speak telepathically across oceans.

It would be so easy if we could.

Come back.

I’m here.