Page 169 of The Cruel Dawn
“Sister.” I kiss her cheek.
We both exhale and take a deeper breath.
“So what did you want to show me?” she asks.
…
No white smoke billows from this cottage’s chimney. The surrounding trees are now gnarled stumps and twist toward the ground. The front door lies flat and cracked across the threshold. I almost expect Veril to step out onto the porch to say, “What mortal nonsenseisthis, dearest?”
I close my eyes and think about the crowded hearth and comfortable chairs waiting inside. “He was a great man,” I say, my throat tight. “An extraordinary teacher, and I still had so much to learn from him but…”
“Tomorrow, it will be better,” Elyn says. “Where some see tragedy, Veril would see hope. And he’d be happy that you’ve returned here.”
Shari barks, then lopes into the meadow behind the cottage.
“No killing,” I shout after her.
I tap at a cocoon hanging from the splintered doorframe. The husk wriggles with new life. My eyes cloud with tears as I glimpse the forge in the dead garden. Jadon had gifted me Fury there. That large wooden tub—we’d kissed there as I bathed. Inside the cottage: the bedroom that had hosted me as I’d healed, and a hearth that had been tended by a generous old man who’d taught me languages, alchemy, and patience the moment I opened my eyes—at birth and near death.
I will make this place better, for Veril, for me. A nice place to stay as I rebuild Vallendor.
“Any news on Jadon?” I ask as Elyn and I lift the front door.
Elyn shakes her head. “I haven’t seen him since Mother and the Eserime Spryted him to the abbey and Agon.”
I say, “Ah,” and swallow my tears.
He couldn’t have any visitors—given how serious and dangerous his condition was. No one knew if he’d live—or be allowed to live, given his heritage, an irony I understood much too well—my own life had been threatened because of who my mother was.
Maybe I will hear something tomorrow. I’ve said this for twenty-one dawns now, with the hope that silence means I can continue to hope.
After making repairs, Elyn and I change into soft, suede breeches and airy tunics as the evening settles in. The cool breeze carries the scent of healing forest, and the twilight’s softness flickers through the cracked windows. Before resting, we sweep away battaby skeletons scattered across the floor. The bones clatter, and I remember the horrors of their attack that day.
Soon, the warm kitchen smells of rosemary and peppercorns as Elyn prepares roasted vegetables and I tend to the hearth-fire.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m sorry for my outburst back at the aerie. I shouldn’t have treated you like the enemy. I shouldn’t have mistrusted you, and I shouldn’t have thrown those delicious pastries out the window.”
Elyn says nothing for a moment. “They were the best pastries ever made, you fool.”
I snicker. “I’m stupid sometimes.”
Elyn shakes her head and looks back at me. “You had every reason to be suspicious, and…you weren’t feeling well. I accept your apology, Kai.” She places her hand atop mine.
I close my eyes and shake my head. “Zephar…I tried hard to get him to see…”
“To seewhat?”
“To see me? To see who Orewid Rolse truly is? To see through the big lie?” I shake my head. “The last thing I wanted was to kill my ex-boyfriend. Did I want to make him miserable? Yes, absolutely. But did I want to kill him?” I didn’t, even though he thought nothing of killing me for being the product of my parents’ love.
Zephar faked it. Not just his “love” for me but also his “respect.” He pretended to see me as worthy of my order, but in truth, he held his breath, repulsed by my touch, repulsed by the curl of my hair, by my mother’s nose in the middle of my face.
Any time we drank too much, Zephar and I would name our future children: Susan and Ronald, Lonnie and Mary, Joe and Joan, mortal names that made us laugh until we couldn’t breathe. He’d play with my hair and he’d call me his love and he’d lie across my thighs and fall asleep. Now looking back, our coupling was not too different from the “celebrations” of Gasho. All politics and no love. Favor, yes, but no heart involved. The strongest wins.
He made a complete fool out of me as he and the other Diminished snickered behind my back, knowing that it was all a joke, a ploy to convince me we were in this together. He nurtured my natural tendencies to question and wonder, stoking them beyond my intentions, fostering rebellion in my heart, and I let him because hegotme. I thought he understood me when few others did. He had my back, and I had his.
I try to smile at Elyn, but I can’t hold back my tears. “You know…I was incredibly envious of you. Angry with you. Confused by you. You’re so smart and so perfect—”
“I am,” she says, winking. “Don’t forget that I’m also breathtaking.”
