Page 53 of Crown of Wrath

At the same time, my father’s insistence on destroying my weaknesses has made me strong. It’s what has given me the strength to be the Shade. It’s what’s kept Maeve safe until now. I made my peace with my pain and scars, but I’ve never made peace with my father. I’ve never accepted that he was anything other than a cruel tyrant.

Maybe I need to now.

I look past Darian at the smooth limestone walls covered in a tapestry on the other side of the sitting room. “Maybe it’s timethat we considered letting Casimir Cyrus know that we’re the ones holding him.”

“Really? He’ll want to control…”

“I didn’t say that we were releasing him. He’s still an enemy in my eyes, and as long as he’s in that steel cage, he doesn’t pose a risk to anyone. Keep doing what you’re doing, Darian. But soon, we may need to consider telling him the truth.” I glance at the closed door to my bedroom and finish, “But not until Maeve wakes up. I won’t leave these quarters until then.”

Darian looks at the door as well, and I can tell that he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He swallows the words and nods to me before standing up. “I’ll push him harder, Cole. Something’s happening in your father’s mind. He’s changing. Anyone could see it. Maybe it’s that he’s giving up hope of escaping this, and he’s treating this all as his last confessions, or maybe it’s something else entirely. Something’s changing, and I don’t know what it is. I’ll keep you updated, but it might be good for you to see him.”

I shake my head. “He doesn’t matter as much as Maeve does, and I made a vow to her.”

Darian nods to me before walking out of the room, leaving me in silence. I stare at the wall, an ache in my chest as the last task for the day ends. I pick up the book that I requested from one of the footmen and go back to my bed where Maeve still lays.

I put the Shadowed Cloak on and sit with my head against the headboard before cracking open the book. A truly ridiculous sight, I’m sure, but I made a vow that the Shade would be there for her when she woke up.

My voice changes, becoming more gravelly. My nails sharpen and turn black. My fingers darken.

“Now, where were we? Oh right. Chapter five. Seraphina stepped out of her father’s…”

As I read the children’s tale, I glance over at her. She’s silent, as still as marble, and yet, I know that she’s fighting the greatest battle of her life. The battle between pain and a promise. A battle for each breath. Giving up would be so easy, and the hardest thing in the world is to keep going, to embrace the pain that her memories hold.

But I believe in her enough to wager everything on that battle, on her strength.

The House of Flames.

The world.

Myself.

So I’ll wait. I’ll lay beside her and read fairy tales to her in the hopes that my voice will bring her back to me just a little faster.

Chapter 27

Sandor is gone. Maeve sent him to the void today, and all I could do for her was hide her actions. One day, she’ll know what happened. She’ll find out what she did, and how I reacted, and she will hate me. Brenna, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for keeping her from mourning her father, but she’s too young to understand, and I’m not strong enough to protect her from herself.

I wish you were here.

~Vesta, letters to Brenna

Maeve

Tears stream down the effigy’s cheeks as she brings the burning branch to the stone tree. The stone is engulfed in flames, and it melts away like ice in a thaw, revealing abeautiful oak tree. Immediately, another memory demands my full attention.

“Little Star, what kind of trouble did you get into today?” Da asks.

The little girl can’t be more than four, and she goes from looking at Da to her destroyed tunic and trousers. Mud covers them, but not enough to hide the rips and tears she’s left all over.

“Go ahead, Maeve. Tell him what trouble you got into today.” The voice comes from a stern woman behind the little girl. With wispy black hair, a frame so thin she doesn’t look quite human, and with eyes that seem to see right through you, Vesta is hard to ignore.

I’ve lived through enough memories now that I remember her. I remember her face and the way she taught me. I remember the way she’d forced me to forget what had happened to my Da. She was my guardian, teacher, and mentor. She was always at my side, but she never limited me by telling me not to do things.

“I caught a raccoon,” the little girl says.

Da’s eyes open wide, and he looks to Vesta, whose expression is just as cold as ever. “The raccoon tore your tunic?” he asks.

The girl sighs and stretches the tunic out in front of her as she looks down at it. “It sure did. That’s the last time I ever catch a raccoon in a tree. It attacked me, and I fell into a mud puddle, and Da, did you know they don’t like to get muddy? She scratched me all over, and I was just trying to play with her. I’ve never touched a raccoon before, but Da, we should get one for a pet. She was soft and fluffy even if she was a little bitey.”

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