Page 210 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Speaker Hawthorn chuckles again at my reaction before a thoughtful expression takes over. “Yes, but it’s more than that.” Pausing, he seems to think about what he wants to say, the look in his eyes warming something inside me. I never knew my father, and I don’t know if it’s the connection he had to my grandfather that makes me feel close to him, but I feel like Hawthorn is quickly becoming a father-like figure to me. From the look of adoration in his eyes, he feels the same way towards me. “Clarissa, you survived twenty years without your mates, you should take some credit for that.”

While he’s right, I did survive, I have darkness in me that takes away from that, and it’s something I’ve never shared with anyone before. It’s something that eats away at me, the darkthoughts that twist within me, that taunt and tell me I’m not good enough on hard days.

Unable to look at him, I focus on my goddess mark, tracing it with my fingers. “Some days, I would pray for death.” My admission is quiet, but it seems to echo across the now silent bonfire, even the crackling flames seemingly hushed. Everyone’s eyes are on me, but I shove aside the feelings of shock and anger and push on. “When it all became too much, I would look at the edge of a cliff and think about throwing myself off or jumping in front of a carriage.”

A deep sadness settles over me, and as I rub my chest to ease the discomfort, it takes me a few moments to realise the feeling is not my own. I don’t want to look up, but I can’t ignore the pain of my mates any more than I could ignore an arrow in my leg. My attention is drawn to Tor as he mourns for the loss of my childhood and innocence. His anguish is palpable, so is his despair that he wasn’t able to find and rescue me until I had already experienced these things. He wishes he could erase my painful past.

A tug in my chest pulls my gaze to Vaeril next, and perhaps I shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised at what I see there—understanding. Suddenly, I’m transported to the underground forge as I remember the first time I met him.

The pounding of the hammer on the anvil rings in my ears, and I watch, transfixed by his movements. I should be scared, but I’m filled with a mixture of awe and hate. It’s a strange combination, but I can’t pull my gaze away from him. His skin is pale like mine and his back is covered in scars. This man has experienced pain, you can tell from the scars that weave a story on his flesh and by the way he stands. He’s tall, and although muscular, he’s also slim in build through years of hard labour.

The memory hits me hard, my heart pounding against my chest, and I know he’s experiencing a similar reaction from hisblown pupils and clenched fists. Vaeril is very good at hiding his emotions, so to be displaying his sentiments like this tells me all I need to know. I don’t need the bond to recognise he’s experienced similar feelings himself and lived with the guilt afterward.

“You look for any way to just stop the endless pain and humiliation.” Eldrin’s voice is low and gruff. Breaking my gaze with Vaeril, I look over at the scarred elf, my heart cracking a little at the expression on his face. Naril stiffens next to him, anger clouding his usually smirking features, his hands clenched into fists. In a movement that’s too fast for my eyes to track, he’s standing. Without a word or backwards glance at his brother, Naril storms off into the darkness. Confusion muddles my thoughts, but they soon turn back to Eldrin and his pain-filled words. There was truth in his admission, and the idea that Eldrin’s torture became so bad he considered suicide, that Vaeril contemplated it to end his torment… No wonder they hate humans so much, it’s a miracle they let me anywhere near them.

My eyes meet Eldrin’s, and I realise he’s done this for me. We may not share a metaphysical bond, but he sensed that I needed to be comforted, and he shared something to let me know I wasn’t alone. From the surprise that’s emanating from the bond and the look he’s giving the elf, this is the first time Vaeril has heard Eldrin speak like this as well.

There’s a cough next to me, and I remember Speaker Hawthorn is here. My guilt suddenly returns with full force, making me feel sick as I wait for his condemnation. After all, suicide is one of the greatest sins you can commit under the Great Mother’s rule. He doesn’t immediately say anything, and I stare into the fire, unable to look at him. I don’t think I could cope with seeing the disappointment in his eyes.

“Do you think poorly of me?” The fire crackles and pops before me, and I can feel my mates’ frustration at the other endof our bonds. They don’t believe I have anything to be sorry or ashamed for, but they keep their opinions to themselves.

There’s a pause, and I can almost feel the speaker’s frown of disapproval at my question, although I’m still too scared to look away from the dancing flames. “Why would I think poorly of you, beloved?”

His question is careful, but I hear his confusion. “Because I thought about giving up.” If I expected hellfire to rain down on me at my admission, or the Mother to appear and strike me down, then I was to be disappointed.

Over the glow of the fire, my eyes meet with Tor’s. He’s watching me with a dark intensity that I’m not used to seeing from him. Towards others or threats, but never aimed at me. However, when I reach for our connection, instead of feeling anger or frustration like I expected, all I feel is determination.

Beside me, Speaker Hawthorn takes my hand, and I reluctantly turn to look at him, no longer able to avoid the inevitable. But his face is open and kind.No, that’s not completely true,my mind whispers.Look at his eyes.There’s anger there, but as I examine his face, I get the impression it isn’tmehe’s angry at.

“But you didn’t,” he states, squeezing my hand, his face serious as he speaks. “You survived.” His eyes are locked onto mine, but I get the impression he’s talking to the others around the campfire too. That he is addressing everyone who ever felt so low that death felt like the only option, the only escape. “Some days, beloved, that is all you can do, and that’s okay.”

Silence follows his words as we all absorb what he just said, but it’s not the heavy silence from before, there’s a feeling of acceptance. My wrist warms, and as I look down, I see my goddess mark glowing softly, and I know she agrees. A huge weight lifts from my shoulders, knowing that no matter this darkness I’ve carried with me, she loves me despite it.

Oh, beloved.Her voice echoes through my mind. Gasping quietly, I sit up as her love floods my body, each and every pore feeling alive with her power.When will you learn that it is for your imperfections that I love you, even the anger you try to bury and hide away?I want to feel guilty as she speaks of my feelings, but she instantly washes it away, cocooning me in her embrace of adoration. What I have done to deserve her love, I will never know. As soon as I have these thoughts, she chuckles in my mind, a musical sound that brings a smile to my face.There is nothing about you I couldn’t cherish. Your hardships are what will make you the perfect leader. You understand pain and suffering, and will do almost anything to make sure others don’t have to go through what you did.Nerves surface again, and I feel her start to pull away. I want to call out, to beg her to stay, but I bite my tongue, knowing it won’t do any good.Believe in yourself,beloved.Trust that I made the right choice,she whispers before she fades from my mind completely.

A gentle squeeze on my hand reminds me of where I am, my eyes focusing back on the wizened bark-like skin of Speaker Hawthorn. “She just spoke to you, didn’t she?” His smile is meaningful, his eyes bright at knowing he was just in the presence of his goddess. I raise my eyebrows. I hadn’t thought I was so obvious. “Don’t look so surprised, I recognised the look on your face, plus, the air changes when she’s here. It’s thicker, like a…magical fog.” A wistful sigh leaves his lips. “I wish we could hear her as you do.”

Smiling at the speaker, I think over everything, knowing I am fortunate the Great Mother chooses to talk to me as she does, but that comes with the weight of responsibility as well. With a deep sigh, I gently extract my hand from his and stare down at my palms, tracing my lifeline with my finger. “I can’t bear the thought of any of you dying because of me,” I admit. This has been one of my greatest fears and most recurrent nightmares.I dream of the people I love dying because of my mistakes, of people under my care perishing because I don’t know what I’m doing. People, who put their trust in me, that I let down.

Although the others on the opposite side of the campfire are talking in low, hushed voices, I can tell they are listening to our conversation from the way their heads turn slightly in our direction.

The speaker makes a noise in the back of his throat like he finds my comment amusing. “Lives are lost every day. It is a natural part of life, beloved.”

Frowning, I spin on the bench to face him, anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach. I must have misunderstood, it almost sounds like he’s defending the idea of going to war. “War is not natural. It is hateful. It is tearing people away from their loved ones before their time,” I counter, my frustration making my voice rise. I’ve never spoken to the speaker like this before, but I don’t understand where these views are coming from.

Arching a single dark eyebrow, the speaker nods his head in agreement. “People die in war, it is true, but that has been happening for centuries. It is part of our nature to want more, to take what we can’t have,” he explains in a calm voice. “Think of all the lives you will be saving from the queen’s tyranny in the long run,” he reasons, gesturing to me, and I know he’s won the argument. This is what I keep coming back to. A few lives are going to have to be lost to save many. “Could you really carry on with your life knowing what she is doing to the land, to the elves? Do you think she will stop at just the elves?”

No, he’s right. My guilt would never let me live if I knew I could do something and I chose not to. Besides, once the queen has finished breaking the elves, she will turn to the humans next. Her hatred for them knows no bounds, so if she can kill and turn her own people into forsaken, then I have no doubt she will annihilate the humans.

“No. She must be stopped,” I agree with a nod. Glancing down at my goddess mark, I reach for the bonds in my chest, feeling my mates instinctively respond, sending me waves of strength. “If I have to be the one to stop her, then so be it.” Even if it destroys me to do so.

“Oomph.” The blow to my stomach beats the air from my lungs, knocking me to the ground in one swift move. Groaning, I lie on the hard ground and take a few seconds to catch my breath. The hit didn’t hurt, but the blow to my pride smarts, especially seeing as this isn’t the first time Eldrin’s knocked me onto my ass this morning.

A shadow falls over me, and I soon see him looking down at me, his expression a cross between amusement and frustration, like he can’t quite decide whether to enjoy throwing me around a bit or be annoyed at my lack of concentration.

“You’re distracted today,” he remarks, holding out his hand in a peace offering to help me to my feet. Staring at his hand with suspicion for a few moments, I blow out a breath of frustration and interlace my fingers with his, pushing up to my feet with his assistance.

Things have been a bit odd between us over the last couple of days, ever since I accidently made the plants attack him and then had the heart-to-heart with the speaker around the fire. He’s stillEldrin, but when it’s just the two of us, he’s been much…nicer? I’m not sure if that’s even how to describe it, but at least he’s not openly hostile towards me anymore. I find him looking at me when he thinks I’m not watching, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it.

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