Page 29 of The Bones of Benevolence

“You’re infuriating.”

I scoffed, one brow shooting up. “I’minfuriating?”

“Yes, Petra, you’re infuriating. I was supposed to hand you over to Kauvras.”

It took everything in me to keep my voice quiet as I spat through gritted teeth. “Are you fucking kidding me? How does that make me infuriating?” I looked around, making sure no one was looking at us. “And let me remind you, you did hand me over to Kauvras.”

An agitated sigh sounded from beneath his mask, the tense energy rippling off of him. “And now I’m doing everything I can to undo that mistake. I always assumed the Daughter of Katia wouldwantto burn the world down, and I didn’t care. Why should I care? The world’s given me nothing. Might as well burn it all down.” I heard him swallow hard as he shifted on his feet, the hollow ram’s eyes pinning me in place. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. But seeing you in that throne room, watching you realize your entire life was a lie, watching you lose everything, and knowing it was ultimatelymyfault?” His breathing quickened as his voice rose, distress evident in every word he spoke. “I can’t do that to you, Petra, because I know how that feels. So apologies for my attitude toward you. I…don’t know how to cope with what I’ve done.”

For a moment, I just stared at the man in front of me, his truth ricocheting off the inside of my head. “You know how it feels,” I repeated back to him, “to realize your entire life is a lie? To lose everything?” I spoke more to myself than to him as I realized what he was saying and a wave of understanding washed through me. “Your answers…” I whispered. “They weren’t what you thought they’d be.”

He was quiet for a moment, the silence settling softly between us. “I thought that knowing the truth would help me, maybe heal me in some way. But it left me with more questions.” His head dropped.

“You lost everything?”

I took his silence as confirmation. The citizens of Aera moved around us, completely oblivious to the revelations taking place on the city's dusty street.

“What? Your family?”

“I never had a family.

“A woman?”

He looked away quickly, his throat working.

I nodded, pushing my own roiling feelings down, knowing the feel of the gaping hole that hung open and bleeding inside his chest. “A woman.”

He exhaled, his head shaking slightly. “She’s…” His voice trailed off, his shoulders tensing and relaxing. “Her name was Cielle.”

“Well I hope that one day you can get more answers about her.” I knew that wasn’t all there was. I knew there was something beyond Cielle. “And about whatever else you’re looking for.”

His fists opened and closed as he turned back to me. His voice was so low, so gravelly that it blended in with the footsteps of the people that passed by. “I’m sorry I used you as a bargaining chip.” The apology rang through me, his voice heavy-laden with a sincerity that caused a deep ache to form in my ribs.

I’d never considered myself a particularly moral person. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing had I been in his shoes. “You were doing what you thought was right. You were doing what you thought you needed to do,” I murmured, loud enough for only him to hear it.

“Yes,” he answered, the word so thick with heartache and regret that I felt it in the deepest parts of my soul, the feeling sickeningly familiar. I knew what it felt like to do what I thought was the right thing — giving Castemont my blessing to marry my mother — only for it to turn into the most grave mistake I’d ever made. “Don’t think I’m asking for your forgiveness.” He shook his head slightly, something brewing behind the mask. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

A sigh left my lungs, and with it something dark, replaced by a foreign lightness that commanded my attention. “Maybe not,” I offered. “But you deserve to forgive yourself.”

The air between us was charged, with what, I couldn’t tell. Lieutenant Miles Landgrave wasn’t untrustworthy. He wasn’t my enemy.

Intentions made us human. They were what separated us from the Castemonts of the world. Mistakes, misjudgments, misunderstandings… They were all a part of being alive and breathing.

And I supposed, so was the ability to forgive.

We stood in the bustling street, the dust hanging in the air the same way it did in Inkwell. But there was one difference — the feeling in my gut. Life had been hard, and there had always been a hunger deep within me. A hunger for sustenance, of course, but also a hunger for safety, for security, for stability. And though my world was in turmoil, it seemed the hunger was gone, replaced instead by the honey-thick warmth of something else. My hand raised of its own volition, reaching to rest against the cold surface of the ram’s cheek as I stared into the dark, depthless eyes.

Who was behind that mask? Could I forgive him? No. I wasn’t there yet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get there. But it didn’t need to stop me from finding something good in the midst of all the bad.

I raised a brow. “You’re still going to teach me to fight, right?”

His shoulders relaxed as he let out a huff of a laugh and stepped back, the tension gone all at once. “Of course I will.” I couldn’t see him smiling, but I felt it from behind the mask. “Let’s get you a real weapon,” he said, holding a hand out in the direction of the smith. “But please do keep your mouth shut, and let me do the talking.”

“Glad to see you’re still an asshole,” I muttered, fighting a smile.

“And you’re still infuriating.”

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