Page 163 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Not a complete lie. She’d thought about eating, but the hardtack just hadn’t appealed to her—especially with her failure this morning and all the emotions clouding her mind.
She hadn’t truly spoken to her mother since their fight the day before. She’d been avoiding it, and Zelda often gave her time to “mull things over” after their fights. Hallie guessed her mother believed it would inevitably lead to Hallie agreeing with her.
She was wrong, but Hallie didn’t feel like fighting about it again. Not yet.
Hallie had suffered a horrible few days in the relationships department.
Her mother leaned back against one of the moss stones and handed her a pastry. “Well, you look dead on your feet. Eat this.”
“I’m fine, Mama.” Hallie pulled back a corner of the purple-blotched cloth. Blackberry preserves. It would probably taste delicious to anyone but Hallie.
Her mother merely glared, and begrudgingly, Hallie took a bite. She felt ten again. At least her mother had managed to make the hardtack edible. Not everyone would know howto regrind and add flavor to something so dry and tasteless. It wasn’t the first time Hallie wished she’d inherited her mother’s talent for baking; even if she had the recipe right in front of her, she still managed to bungle something.
That was her talent.
Zelda gave her an appraising look as she finished off the snack. She swallowed. “Thank you.”
A nod was all the praise she got. Of course. Hallie set aside her sketchbook and pencil and fetched the small pouch of Zuprium dust from her trouser pocket. She’d finally been able to clean her old clothes and change out of her mother’s smaller skirt and blouse. The familiar lace at her throat and wrists was one comfort on this awful day.
She caught Saldr’s gaze as he conversed with Fely on the other side of the fire. The firelight made the Yalv’s golden eyes glow. He gestured toward the fire, and Hallie shook her head.
Saldr frowned, and Fely gave her an encouraging wave, but neither one could help her.
Her mother looked between the two, but wisely didn’t comment—though by the tilt of her head and that look in her eyes, she very much wanted to. Hallie should give her more credit for her restraint.
Her father had been the one to explain to her mother what had happened to her at Achilles. It seemed Zelda didn’t care that her daughter could now supposedly create fire with a word and a puff of the Zuprium dust that used to cling to the Stoneset cottages. Hallie hadn’t spoken to her about it at all, but her advice here would be no help.
She needed to talk to Kase. She needed him so badly it hurt.
She’d been in the wrong. She just needed to talk to him about everything—about her feelings, about his. Because herfeelingsweredeep. There would be no pushing him away. It was ridiculous of her to even think that.
That little voice in the back of her mind kept sowing doubt. It was only there to mock her, saying that she would never live up to who Kase needed her to be. Who theworldneeded her to be. The voice said Kase was merely marking time with her, that she was nothing but a nice diversion from the chaos at hand. She hated that Mr. Gray, whoever he was, had planted that in her head.
Kase had told her he loved her, but had he gotten swept up in the emotion of the moment? Had he truly meant it?
She’d given into her feelings when they’d been at Achilles, but now she felt as if she stood in the middle of a vast ocean, the only solid ground just wide enough for her feet. No matter which way she moved, she would drown. She needed Kase to pull her to safety, and—to continue with her slightly dramatic metaphor—to teach her to swim.
But maybe a simple literary device was all they were meant to be.
“Hal?”
Her father joined her mother, sitting on her other side. He leaned across his wife and put a hand on his daughter’s knee. “You all right?”
She chewed her lip as her mother also glanced at her. She felt like a lab specimen awaiting dissection. Not ideal. “I’m fine.”
It was all she’d told her parents since she’d returned.
She was fine; she just needed sleep.
She was fine; she just needed to eat something.
She was fine; she was just thinking.
Nothing was ever going to be fine again.
At least if the world ended, she would no longer have to tell boldfaced lies about her current state of being.
“You know, I talked with Kase earlier today,” her father said, taking his hand back and turning to watch the magical bonfire.
