Page 123 of Ash and Feather

Protecting me.

Or hiding from me?

Maybe both.

I took another sip of the milk to avoid having to speak.

“The temples to the divine in the capital city of the Olithian Kingdom are said to be the most splendid on the southern continent, and I was drawn to them out of curiosity…and disgust.” She stared at the ceiling as she spoke. “Those temples have keepers. The Heart of the Divine, they call themselves. And Mother took up their garb and their oaths years ago. She wouldn’t speak to me when I saw her. Wouldn’t even acknowledge her own daughter. It’s common practice in the Heart’s circle, from what I gathered, to not associate with non-believers.”

“You couldn’t have pretended to believe for a minute, just to have a chance to speak with her?”

“Why should I have pretended? She was the one who abandoned us. The effort was hers to make, not mine.”

I sighed.

Savna went back to staring out the window. Even though she didn’t say it out loud, I could guess what she was thinking; she was comparing the loss of our mother to the loss she felt whenever she looked at me. Because she thought I was the same—a fool taken in by the gods, worshipping them blindly, turning my back on all the ones I’d loved before.

“She would be thrilled to know that at least one of her daughters is so closely connected to the divine world, now.” There was a bitterness in my sister’s tone that made my hackles lift.

I sat the mug down next to my drawing on the nightstand, no longer thirsty, nor eager for the memories the drink brought with it.

“I felt abandoned by you, too, you know.” I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the bitterness from rising in my own voice as I continued: “Do you have any idea what it’s been like forme, living without you all these years?”

We glared at one another, on our way to yet another deadlock. Or so I thought—until she unexpectedly broke, and the fierce lines on her face began to soften.

I was even more shocked when she said, in a slightly uneven voice, “Well…why don’t you tell me what it was like?”

I took a deep breath, unsure if I could truly put it into words—even though I’d done it before. Not for her, but for Dravyn and the rest of the divine court that took me in. They’d listened to my story countless times over these past months, patient with me even as I stumbled over the words and held back the more painful parts.

Thinking of them now brought me strength; I didn’t realize how much they’d helped me heal until this moment, back in this place, surrounded by all the things that had made me sick.

My sister remained silent, her gaze heavy and conflicted.

“It was like…a tightness,” I finally said. “Like being encased in rock, unable to move unless I chiseled my way out, bit by bit. Over and over. Nearly every single morning for over five years, I had to start each day by scraping away the heavy weight of stoneor else I couldn’t even get out of bed. And then, when I finally did make it out, I was just…angry.”

Savna frowned, lips parting with questions she didn’t manage to get out.

“Furious at you, but also atme,” I went on, “because howweak,to not even be able to get out of bed. How maddening to have to carry this weight around, to not be able to throw it off. I wanted to be rid of you so many times, yet I clung to you tighter than I’ve ever clung to anything. I knew it made no sense. But I couldn’t stop. Until I…”

Until I replaced you.

My sister kept her lips pressed tightly together this time, her eyes shining with emotion, urging me on.

But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I had become someone powerful and new—someone who existed outside ofher.

It was true, yet knowing this didn’t stop the guilt or the pain that came from letting go. She had been my comfort for so long, even in her absence. I’d grown used to the grief of that absence. I’d built my life around it.

Grieving the loss of her while she stood directly in front of me was a different challenge, all together.

I looked past her, to the same window she’d been staring through. My thoughts again turned to escaping. To running out into the fog, putting as much space between us as I possibly could, attempting to shove my way through the wards at whatever the cost.

“I understand why it made you feel weak,” Savna began before I could convince myself to move. “How tired it must have made you, clinging to our old life. But…”

My gaze darted back to her. It seemed to startle her, my sudden, rapt attention—or maybe just the fact that I was still listening at all.

She calmed her breathing and quietly finished: “But how strong you must be at this point, to have managed to claw and push your way through the heaviness so many times.”

I bit my lip. Hard. Trying to cause pain, to draw blood that I could focus on instead of her voice.

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