Page 73 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Kase thundered up to the second floor. “Mother!”
He hadn’t expected an answer, but he’d hoped for it. And when he didn’t find her in her library or her bedroom, both of which had been ransacked, it got much harder not to think about the worst.
“Mother!” he shouted again. Only his echo replied.
They wouldn’t have just killed her. She’d be a perfect prisoner, someone to hold for ransom. They’d have to be stars-idiots to kill her. She was important.
Kase didn’t know which was worse—death or capture. His stomach and chest coiled so tightly, he thought he might burst.
His parents’ bed chamber still had its high, arched ceilings with ornate trim and molding that matched the rest of the manor’s more elegant rooms. The towering four-poster bed’s curtains had been slashed. Red-soaked feathers littered the ground and the eviscerated covers and pillows.
Kase’s vision blurred.No. He couldn’t lose it now. He needed to find survivors. He needed to find his family.
If he had a family left to find.
A hand on his shoulder shook him out of his thousand-yard stare. “Son, we need to go.”
He clenched his still aching jaw. How long had it been since his run-in with Cornhead? An hour? Two? The pain cleared his head as nausea swirled in his stomach. Pain brought the task before him back into focus, even if he was unsure of exactly what that task was.
He just needed to do something. Anything.
As he skimmed the room one last time, a heap of brown fabric crumpled beside his mother’s wardrobe caught his eye. The door had been ripped off and hacked to pieces. Her various necklaces, which once hung on hooks inside the door, werenowhere to be found. Mirror and glass shards mixed on the floor like a macabre mosaic, light painting each piece in fiery sunset hues. Glass shards crunched beneath his boots as he stumbled over to the material, gathering it in his hands.
Shaking off glass shards, Kase held up his pilot’s jacket.
And he lost the very last shred of self-control he had left.
His mother must have gone into his room and taken this from his wardrobe. She’d kept it here, close to her. A slash ran through it from mid-chest to the hem.
His fingers dug into the leather as a tear escaped. His nostrils flared.
My only wish is for you to be happy, to be safe, to be loved, she’d written in her last letter, stowed in his pack. You’ll always have a home here with me.
He might never get to say sorry.
And out of all the regrets he had in his life, that one was probably one of the biggest.
His throat closed up, and his hands shook.
I cannot control others’ actions. I can only control my own.
Except this was his fault. This was all his fault.
Another tear escaped his collapsing hold, finding its way down his cheek, over his healing cut, and finally to his chin.
“I’m sorry,” Stowe whispered.
Kase wiped his eyes with his sleeve and sniffed loudly. “I don’t want…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t, because Stowe was only being kind, and he didn’t deserve Kase’s ire.
Stowe hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t hurt anyone. He hadn’t been the one to burn the manor or destroy his family’s possessions. He wasn’t the reason the city was empty, the only evidence people had once lived here was the bits of life they’d left behind.
Like shattered glass. Family portraits. A simple leather jacket.
Wiping his eyes once more and forcing false confidence into his voice, he said, “Let’s go.”
He balled up his jacket, tucked it underneath his arm, and pushed past Stowe out into the dark corridor.
