Page 28 of Monster's Secret Baby

I thought he'd learned years ago to stop setting up appointments I'd miss. But I guess we both never fucking learn.

I pick up a brush, dipping it in swirling blue. "I was following a lead."

Sior's sigh carries the weight of five years of disappointment. "Another false trail? What was it this time? A woman who sounded like her? A flash of curly hair in a market?"

"Someone saw a human woman matching her description in Ecrin." Not that she was. I spent days ripping apart that village until I think the humans there were rallying to kill the monster that had wandered in.

"Saufort?" Sior snorts. "That dreary little fishing village? What would she possibly be doing there?"

I whirl on him, brush dripping blue onto the marble floor. "Hiding from me, obviously."

"Adellum." His voice softens into something almost kind. It's worse than his anger. "It's been five years. She's not hiding. She's gone. And you need to accept that before you destroy yourself—and everything we've built."

"Everythingwe'vebuilt?" I laugh, the sound cracked and hollow. "You built an empire on my talent. I built nothing but dreams that turned to ash."

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm being honest. Something you might try sometime." I turn back to the blank canvas, already seeing the storm of colors I'll pour onto it.

Sior is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is careful. "What if you find her, and she doesn't want to be found? What if she left because she wanted to leave?"

The thought cuts deeper than the crystal ever could. I don't answer him. Instead, I drag the brush across the canvas, a violent streak of blue like a scream.

"I need her," I say finally, my voice barely audible. "If she doesn't want me, she can tell me herself. But I need to know she's alive. I need to know I didn't dream her."

The truth is I don't care why she left or where she is. Iwillfind her. And then I am never fucking losing her again.

"Are you at least going to Lezer still? The golem market?—"

"I leave in the morning," I answer on a rough growl. I'm starting to spiral, as I've grown prone to when I think about Harmony for too long.

So basically I am always caught in a long, downward spiral.

Sior shakes his head and leaves me alone with my canvas, my obsession, my prayer. Each stroke is her name. Each color a memory—the gold flecks in her hazel eyes, the sun-brown of her skin, the dark chocolate of her curls.

I pushmy zarryn harder than I should through the torrential downpour. The creature's silver coat is slick with rain, its two tails dragging in the mud as it huffs in protest. Lightning cracks open the sky, and my mount rears, nearly throwing me from the saddle.

"Fuck!" I grip the reins tighter, my wings instinctively spreading to catch my balance before I force them closed again beneath my sodden cloak. "Easy.Easy."

But the zarryn isn't having it. The beast has been temperamental since we left New Solas, but now it plants its hooves in the mud and refuses to move another step down the flooded road. I could force it—I've done worse things lately—but exhaustion seeps through me like the rain through my clothes.

I scan the dreary landscape, squinting through sheets of water. The lights of a village flicker in the valley below, barely visible through the storm. Not where I was headed. Not even close. I'd meant to push south to Lezer and then maybe go even farther toward Mor'ghed, thinking maybe I could find some peace among the dybbuks. At least they understand what it's like to be haunted.

"Fine," I mutter to the zarryn, tugging its reins toward the village. "We'll shelter for the night."

The path down to the village is slick with mud, forcing me to dismount and lead the beast by hand. By the time we reach the first cobblestone streets, I'm soaked through, filthy, and in a fouler mood than when I started. Though when am I not in a foul mood?

It's hard to not be when my chest feels like it's perpetually caving in.

The village is quiet despite the early evening hour, most sensible folk driven indoors by the weather. Quaint little buildings line narrow streets, their windows glowing with warm light that only makes me feel colder. This place reeks of contentment. Of settled lives and simple pleasures. Everything I've lost.

A wooden sign swings violently in the wind—an inn, thank the gods. I tie the zarryn beneath the awning, not caring if the innkeeper objects. The creature shakes itself, splattering mud in a wide arc.

"Ungrateful beast," I mutter, pulling my hood lower to shield my face. The last thing I need is to be recognized. My reputation precedes me these days, and not the artistic acclaim Sior loves to tout. No, it's the other whispers that follow me now.Unhinged. Dangerous. Obsessed. All very true.

I turn toward the inn's door, then stop. Across the small village square, golden light spills onto wet cobblestones from the open door of what looks to be a restaurant. Someone is kneeling just outside that doorway, a cloth in hand, wiping at a spill despite the rain.

A woman.

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