Page 130 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

He scoffed. “Did you see how he looks at anyone who raises a decibel of their tone with you? Nia told me what he did in Solarya. If he called night over the land of day without a second thought, right before Magnus Vayr, I’d be an idiot not to be afraid.”

I lifted my daggers up and took my stance. “It’s an act, Cai. He thinks I’ll find it in my black heart to spare him.”

He pushed my blade down with a finger. “Do you really believe that?”

“What is there to believe? Do you really think that man could care for me?” I asked, nudging his weapon. “I need this. Either fight me or get someone else up here.”

He shook his head. “You’re not angry, you’re confused. Confused doesn’t do well when we are both holding weapons.”

I dropped both daggers. “I am not confused. Hand to hand then.”

And like that, Cai had me on the ground in two swift moves, a knee pressing on my spine. “Snow!”

“Fine,” I sighed, surrendering.

There was a flurry of thunder brewing in me, yet I couldn’t make it rain so I seeked the closest thing to relief. Murder.

Murdoc sat tied to a chair before me, his viscous brown eyes boring into me as if they still had power to tear me. He stared blankly across to where I sat before him, and despite the cold darkness of the dungeons I could still make out his features pursed in an ever-angry scowl.

“You were always so angry. Still are,” my voice broke the echo of water droplets that had restlessly pooled on the ground behind him.

Murdoc didn’t answer, only stared. He was never lost for words, and if they were ever robbed out of him he always relied on his ability to hurt physically.

“At some point I thought you were going to kill me. At some point I wanted you to kill me. It would have been easier than having to do it myself,” I confessed, my chest feeling lighter somehow at the confession. “It would have been easier on my mother, too—she wouldn't have blamed herself. Eren and Thora wouldn’t have been as sad either. Like me, they would have held onto you like an anchor. Your death would have given them purpose and then relief.” A bitter laugh left me at the memory, and I dropped my head back on the rest, tired. “It was such a pretty little plan. I spent nights thinking it through. To my rotten luck something worse happened. You proved to be just an abusive coward and I became addicted.”

My hands subconsciously curled to fists. “Pain became my addiction and you became the dealer. Eren thought I took Thora’s place to protect her.” Tears were suddenly rolling down my eyes, not from the ghostly touch of pain I sometimes felt when I recalled the memory but remembering how I volunteered for Murdoc’s punishments instead of my sister for my own twisted reasons. I’d beg him to take me instead of her, and he would. I needed the pain and he had plenty to offer. “I came because I wanted to hurt, and she knew. Thora knew.” I was sure she did. The look in her small face still sent shudders through my body. My little sister knew everything. She sensed everything.

Pushing to stand, I reached Murdoc. “That’s enough heart to heart, I suppose.” Fisting a bunch of his hair, I pulled his limp lifeless body to the ground and crushed the wooden chair he’d sat on with my heel—spreading the wood as kindling over his body. I’d pushed too far and too hard, the valley stone couldn’t have helped to keep him alive at the point I’d beaten him to. He was dead after a few of my administrations. Perhaps it was for the best. Coming down here had only twisted my rage, not soothed it.

“Tristin,” I shouted.

The Skye warrior’s shadowy form stood tall at the door. “Yes, my queen.”

“Bring me a torch.”

The blue flame illuminated the dark room and made visible all I’d done to Murdoc. One might say I’d take it a bit far. One wouldn’t know how much further I could have taken this before his weak-willed heart ruined it. His body lit almost immediately after I threw the torch over him. The cooked rat stench was livid, but I wanted to watch him turn to ash.

Tristin cracked open a small silver tin lined with neatly rolled cigarettes and handed it to me.

“Thought you quit,” I said, taking one.

“Only in front of Lila. Leanna and I have a sneaky one once in a while.”

I snorted and held the cigarette head to the fire before inhaling a puff of the clove scented tobacco. We both watched the priest burn to the bone. Burned. Because that is how I wanted him out of my memory—gone like dust. “I thought about burning him alive, but all the screaming ruins it for me sometimes. You know, like when you see the food actually cook before it is served to you. It ruins the eating experience. Doesn’t that bother you as well?”

She slanted me a bewildered look. “I’ve known you for years, yet I question your sanity every day.”

What was sanity, really? Have I ever been sane? “Much easier to just accept that I am insane. It doesn’t offend me as much as questioning it does,” I said, pulling my feet out of the wet boots I wore and warming them up on the fire. The wet prune skin sensation ticked a nerve the wrong way and it was a waste of a fire if no one used it.

“Snow,” Sebastian called, jogging inside the dungeon room. He winced at the pungent scent and my bloodied sight, but quickly recovered.

“A bonfire,” I exclaimed, ushering him in. “Do you have any snacks with you?”

“No, unfortunately I come unprepared.” Taking a clove cigarette from Tristin, he lit it on the fire “Who are we burning?”

“Murdoc.”

He nodded. “Explains the stench.”