Page 171 of A Soul to Guide

“Raewyn–”

“Please, Merikh? I want to know. I’ve shared things with you I haven’t told others. Only the other councillors know Jabez is my half-brother, and about how I lost my sight. I’ve shared my secrets with you, even if they were painful.”

She would have threatened him she would get up if he didn’t tell her, but she didn’t think that would work in her favour. Her patience in his silence was rewarded anyway.

“I am not the first Mavka,” he mournfully admitted, more blue sparking. “We were not born far apart from each other, and we acted similarly to how the twins do – although not so closely.”

“They do seem like two halves of one person,” she giggled, hoping to ease him, even though she didn’t really feel any light-heartedness right now.

He wasn’t the first Duskwalker, and already, she knew what that meant.

“When I was small, if I was not clinging to Lindiwe, she told me I was clinging to him. She said it was hard to get close to him, but having me around seemed to ease him – like he could just sense I was young and in need of protecting. So, one day, he took me away by accident, and I returned fully grown. From then on, all I knew was him. Wherever he went, I went. If he gained more humanity, so did I. When we played, we played rough. If I won, I would protect his skull until he grew back, or vice versa, and then we would play again.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “You played a game where you killed each other?”

Merikh’s chuckle was empty. “Death means nothing to creatures who don’t die. The game was about strength, in which I was regularly the winner.”

“I thought you said breaking your skull kills you?”

“That’s because we didn’t know that yet. In twenty-four hours, we always came back to be teased about losing. Except one day, he didn’t. The play was often accompanied by our bloodlust, and when it had been a particularly ruthless fight, I had crushed his skull in my hand. Then I sat there, waiting for him to come back, and he never did. I probably would have sat there for forever if Weldir had not come to collect his skull and inform me he’d died. Lindiwe had been with him, and I think I remember her crying and screaming at me, but I was so overcome by my own emotions, denying his death, that I ended up frightening the shit out of her. I even hurt her.”

His hands tightened on her, and it allowed her to feel the strength of his regret.

“I tried to attack them because I had thought them telling me meant they were the source of my pain. For years, anytime she came near me, I would instantly attack. I gave her no room to get close to me. I hated her for telling me, and she hated me for killing one of her children. There never was, and never has been, a chance for us to bond. The pain we share is too great, and I hate the way she looks at me, full of sympathy for the pain his death caused me. I hate how she sees that in me.”

Raewyn didn’t know what to say. She could try to soothe him, but she didn’t want him to know that she, too, felt sympathy. It was hard not to.

She couldn’t imagine what it was like to accidentally kill your own beloved sibling, but she did know what it was like to lose one.

“It is the only time I have regretted taking a life,” he added. “And now, being near my kind brings back memories I do not want. I am envious that they get to learn about our weakness when I was not gifted with that knowledge, which likely would have saved him. So now, I am the oldest Mavka, but not the first, and everything I have suffered is shared to protect them, whereas I was not shielded from that suffering.”

“That’s not fair on you,” she whispered.

“No, it’s not, but that’s what happened. Our mother didn’t know anything. I don’t think Weldir knew either, but I don’t care. We are nothing but soul harvesters for him, and I wonder if he cares at all that one of us died, or if he only mourns the loss of a servant.”

“Do you really think he could be that heartless?” she grumbled.

“He doesn’t have a fucking heart,” Merikh snapped. “He’s made of mist and cloud. I doubt he even has a cock with which to make us.”

Raewyn’s cheeks heated in embarrassment at his words. Then she patted his chest. “Thank you for telling me. It explains a lot. Can I hug you?”

“No,” he bit, instantly crumbling her heart. “My quills make that impossible.”

“No, they don’t.” She wrapped her arms around him, bending her elbows so her arms went up his sides. She squeezed him. When he didn’t do so in return, she pouted. “You’re meant to hug me back, you know.”

Merikh grunted before sliding his arms around her to hug her. He was tense at first, but he eventually eased into it. He even brushed the side of his snout against her.

“I think this is the first time I’ve hugged someone,” he admitted with an awkward mumble.

“I figured as much. Feel better?”

“Not at all. It changes nothing.” Most people would have lied, but she guessed Merikh didn’t have enough social etiquette to know that. “Have any more painful questions you want to ask me, or can we go back to before?”

Raewyn bit her lips shut when they tried to curl in humour, especially since she felt guilty. “Actually, I do.”

“I told you to forget what I said,” he rumbled, so close to a growl. “What I said matters little, and I don’t like that you overheard it.”

He was speaking of what he said about her.

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