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“Clara,” he begins gently. Too gently. “What happened back there? You should have signaled earlier.”
My throat is suddenly thick with emotion, and heat rises, building pressure at the back of my eyes. No matter how hard I fight to push it down, the tears well up.
Oliver scoots closer and settles an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side. I take a shuddering breath. The warmth that I’ve gathered seeps out of me.
“She…” I struggle to find the words. “It’s all my fault.” I cover my mouth with my hands as if I could hold back every emotion that is clawing its way to the surface.
I shake my head, yet it’s no use. Horrible images of the way Father and Kitty were murdered are the only thing I see. Unshed tears burn, building and building, until they finally spill over. I squeeze my eye tight against the visions, but it doesn’t stop them from replaying over and over again.
Oliver hugs me, my face pressed against his lapels. He stands with me, then begins to walk. I follow, not seeing or caring where we’re going.
We stop where it’s quiet, and the air is much colder. I shiver even though crying has made my face feel uncomfortably hot. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to halt or even slow my tears. For a long time, Oliver murmurs soft words while rubbing circles over my back.
When my sobs eventually ebb, he hands me a handkerchief to wipe my face. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed. Several more minutes go by before I can speak again. My head throbs, and my face feels swollen and puffy.
“Thank you,” I mumble, pulling back, only to realize his shirt is damp. Uselessly, I attempt to dry the spot with my sleeve. “I ruined your shirt.”
Oliver stills my movements and angles my face up to look him in the eye. “What happened was not your fault, Clara,” Oliver says quietly. I open my mouth to disagree, but he continues before I get the chance. “There was nothing you could have done. Elizabeth was never going to let them live. If you hadn’t met her, they might have suffered at her hands for days or weeks longer.”
You were why I came for them. Why they died. You were the reason for their suffering. She knew that—and she hated you for it.
Kitty loved me—I know she did. Though that didn’t stop Elizabeth’s words from hitting their mark, piercing a vulnerability, I never realized I had. Cutting deep, a sharp knife slicing at my heart.
“She killed my father when I didn’t let Alaric go immediately.” I shake my head, swallowing a few times so I can get the rest of it out. “She released Kitty… but then… then Elizabeth had a guard shoot her with an arrow. She died in my arms…”
I’m crying again, but not as uncontrollably as before. After a while, each new hurt becomes lost among the others, and I can no longer feel the contrast of them against the lack of pain before the first cut.
“If I’d only—”
“You did everything you could,” he says firmly. “If there was any way to have saved them,thatwould have been it. Regardless of what she said, their blood is onherhands, not yours. Grieve for them, but do not blame yourself for Elizabeth’s actions.”
Eventually, the tears have run out, leaving behind a hollow chasm in my chest.
Enough.
This must be enough for now.
I must lock the pain down. Numb everything. I can’t afford to fall apart, can’t afford to feel, or succumb to the heartache.
I can’t fall to pieces.
Not yet.
Not until there is a conclusion to all this. Not until this is all over and either Elizabeth, or I, or both of us are dead.
I splash my face with water from a nearby stream, then Oliver and I return to the temporary camp.
Numbly, I notice the food is gone, and the pack keeps themselves occupied with busy work. The fire is low but still burns, though there’s a pile of dirt next to it, ready to smother the flames on Oliver’s command. Guilt tightens its grip for making everyone wait.
Oliver insists on having me sit by the fire for a while longer. It’s well into the night when he issues the order to continue on. He rides behind me on Nyx while the others shift into wolf form. The remainder of the trek is passed in silence. I am thankful for it. There is a lot I need to sort out in my mind.
The branches overhead creak as they sway in the light breeze, but it doesn’t seem to touch us as we move through the forest.
Since I woke, I haven’t been able to shake a nagging thought. Elizabeth has wanted me dead for a while now. So, I am not entirely surprised that she stabbed me.
We must choose to trust each other.
Those were Alaric’s last words to me. It is something one would say when they need another to trust them, no matter what. But it is also something one would say to make their intended betrayal that much sharper. If he planned to turn on me from the beginning and leave me for dead, then why say anything at all, but not for added cruelty?
