Page 18 of Of Blood and Banes
“I imagine that’s hard to process.”
“Ha, yeah…I was so overcome when I saw him. I couldn’t believe it at first. And then the shock faded to relief, and now I’m a mix of emotions. I’m grateful, confused, and…honestly?” She laughs shakily. “Pissed. Off. My mother and I spentso long thinking he was dead. So many nights crying and feeling like we were broken…and for what? He played us for fools. He never came back.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t imagine what these last few days have been like for you.”
Melaina nods, offering me a small, appreciative smile. “I’m sorry, too. My father has been so hard on you, and he shouldn’t be. I think…and don’t ever tell him I said this…but I think he shows that hardened demeanor when he’s scared. And whatever is going on—it has himterrified. Desperate, even. But it doesn’t all rest on you.”
I sigh, hoping it releases all the emotions clouding my heart. “It feels like it does. He said I must be the one to convince everyone to stay. He said I’m the chosen one…but for what? I can hardly defend myself. How am I supposed to save the entire realm?”
Her smile widens as she glances down. She spins a bracelet around her wrist, her eyes trained on the shining metal as shemurmurs, “When I thought my father died, it felt like it was me against the world, too. I felt so alone. Like no one else could possibly understand what I was going through or what I felt. Every day was dark, every day empty. And then…Celeste showed up at my door. I hadn’t answered her knock the first few days, but that stubborn-ass woman was persistent. She came, day after day, until I finally relented and opened the door. She gave me this bracelet and some flowers. She told me how sorry she was, and that whenever I felt sad and alone, even if she wasn’t there, and even if I wasn’t ready to have anyone there, I could look at it and think of her.” She takes the bracelet off her wrist and grabs my hand before placing it in my palm. The moonlight shimmers off its brilliant gleam, highlighting a hidden quote etched into the metal.
You can go through it or grow through it.
“I—I can’t take this,” I mutter and try to hand it back to her.
She shakes her head, patting my shoulder. “You need it more than I do right now. You’re not alone, Kat.”
Before I can respond, she brushes past me, taking a few steps away and then pausing. She turns to me slightly, her voice low. “I know…he can be difficult. He can get so lost in the greater good he sometimes loses sight of how it affects other people. But he is good. Even if I’m pissed at him, I know he’s made the decisions he has for something bigger than me. It hurts knowing the good of the realm is his first priority. But I still trust in him. Just as I trust in you.”
CHAPTER 6
AN OLDER BROTHER
Melaina’s silhouette disappears into the distant tree line toward Midkeep. I sit next to Daeja, shuffling in between her neck and shoulder, welcoming her warmth. I rest my head on her black, rugged scales as she lifts a wing and tucks it over me. Her easy breathing lulls me into drowsiness, and we sit in the quiet of the night. The only thing to break the silence is the rushing currents of the river in front of us. As I fight against my heavy eyelids threatening to drag closed, I watch the water glide by, glittering in the moonlight, before I drift off into sleep.
The blackness of sleep transforms into a room washed in golden light. Sunlight spills through the windows, dust motes dancing in the beams that drag across the room. The singsong chirping of birds rings in the distance. I scan the room, instantly recognizing the wooden table with several rickety chairs. The front door. The makeshift fireplace hearth.
It’s my home back in Padmoor.
Immediately, I swing my attention to the wall with my mother’s carving all those months ago:secrets never die, they’re just buried in a grave. But it’s free from any imperfections.
Someone touches the back of my head, and I spin to try and face them, but my hair is stuck.
“Stop, Kat! You’re going to make me pull out more hair!” a boy’s voice scolds me from behind.
A boy’s voice I haven’t heard inyears.My heart shrinks into a piece of crumpled paper, and I fight to take a breath.Am I dreaming?I turn again to look at his face, but I’m only afforded an inch to my right. My hair screams at my scalp, preventing me from fully pivoting.
The boy snaps, “Will you hold still? I’m almost done with your braid!”
“You’re pulling too hard!”It’s my voice but…much younger. Echoing around me as if a ripple in a distant lake.
“I am not!” the boy snaps.
“Yes, you are! Oww! Mother!”the younger me calls out.
Footsteps approach us from the right, where the hallway leading to my mother’s room is. My mother’s chime of a voice rings out, clearer than I’ve heard in years, “You two, quit bickering! Kat, sit still for your brother. He’s just trying to help you.”
As I grit my teeth to block out the pain and turn to glance at her, the room blurs and swirls out of perception. The memory melts as if liquid, until it stills into an entirely different scene.
A small, trembling hand clutches an old, quill pen, hovering over a paper with wrinkles. The page has the same two unreadable words repeated a quarter of the way down. The sensation of the trembling quivers in my body—it’s my hand as a little girl.
“Try again,” my brother chirps from behind my shoulder.
I lower the pen and drag the inked tip across the page, but it jumps sporadically over the wrinkled paper.
“I can’t!”I whine.
“Well, you shouldn’t have given up so easily! If you hadn’t crumpled the paper on the first try when you got frustrated, it would’ve still been smooth. You have to keep practicing if you want to be any good.”
