Page 132 of Skalterra By Nightmare
Orla and Fana laughed across the courtyard as they stumbled after another cricket together. The clenched muscle in Ferrin’s jaw relaxed, and a soft smile crept across his face as he watched his niece.
“Then why did you leave the Grimguard alive in Vanderfall after you found him in Orla’s room? After everything his people had done?”
The smile faltered, but he kept his eyes on Orla.
“Several reasons, Just-Wren, the simplest of which is that you would not have allowed it, and I wish it could be just that simple.” Something darker replaced Ferrin’s smile, something I hadn’t seen him wear before. “The Grimguards thought they’d killed me. But they hadn’t, and despite my injuries, I was able to catch them off guard and gain the upper hand. I killed them slowly and deliberately for what they’d done. As horrible as the sound of Oren’s dying breaths had been, I relished the Grimguards’ screams. I made them beg for mercy, then I made them beg to be put to death. I made them watch each other die. But as much joy as I took in their suffering and as much joy as I continue to take in the memory of it, I don’t like who I became that night. When I saw the young Grimguard helpless in Orla’s bed, I wanted to become that person again, but I do not want my niece to see me like that.”
I stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away from Ferrin and unable to come up with a suitable response. He finally turned away from Orla to give me another sad smile.
“Don’t let them stay up too late, alright? We’re leaving as soon as that blizzard has worn itself out, and they’ll need their rest for the final bit of the journey.”
I nodded wordlessly, and Ferrin disappeared through the sliding door into the tatami-floored room.
The crickets chirped in their bushes, and Fana and Orla’s feet slapped against wet stone as they chased them, but there was another sound there too.
Heavy, choking breaths shuddered in the dark, and I had to force the muscles in my throat to loosen before I whispered into the shadows.
“Ciarán? Are you there?”
But the continued breathing in the back of my head, panicked and short, was the only response.
31. Event Management and Design
Riley did not like the color black.
At least, that’s what the text Liam had sent me the night before claimed. I searched through my clothes, trying to find something that wasn’t too dark but still memorial-appropriate.
The harbor outside my window was busy with townsfolk in their own memorial attire, though none of them seemed to have received Liam’s memo about Riley’s apparent distaste for black. They bustled about the docks in dark button-ups and dresses as they prepared the marina for the vigil. I recognized Liam’s Aunt Olive near the end of the dock where she messed with an arrangement of lilies. Gams shuffled down the wooden planks towards her.
I threw on a green dress and enough make-up to camouflage my patchy eyelashes before hurrying downstairs to help however I could.
The shop was closed, and July sunshine streamed through the large back windows to light the empty aisles as I slipped between them. Gams’s air conditioning sent goosebumps erupting up and down my bare arms, and I pushed through the back door, eager for the morning heat that the sun was sure to provide.
The bay, blue and calm, melded into the sky through the bit of horizon peeking through two emerald spits of land that cut into the water to form our bay. Gulls cried on the sea breeze, and the bell of a buoy tolled out across the water.
It would’ve been a beautiful day if not for the solemn faces that carried fold-out chairs, floral arrangements, and a blown-up poster of Riley out into the marina.
That, and the cold of the shop seemed to cling to me. I was unable to shake it as I hurried down wooden steps to the harbor.
“Morning, Wren.” Siobhan nodded as I passed her. “Have you seen Liam this morning?”
“Not yet, but he texted me last night. Why?” I tried to rub warmth back into my arms. Siobhan didn’t have sleeves either, and the wind ruffled her graying ginger hair, but she didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the cold as I felt.
Siobhan frowned in response, and continued her trek to a trailer loaded with folded chairs.
My sandals echoed on the wooden planks of the marina, and Gams looked up as I approached the end of the docks. Olive sat on the planks, messing with her lily-laden flower arrangement.
“Wren, have you heard from Liam?” Gams asked. Olive looked up with red-rimmed eyes. Her pink lipstick was already smudged.
“I have a text from him.” I pulled my phone from my dress pocket.
“What’s it say?” Olive asked.
“Just that Riley doesn’t like the color black.”
Olive sighed and returned to her flowers while Gams gave my green dress a glance.
“Why are you shivering?” Gams held a wrinkled hand to my forehead. “Are you sick?”
