Page 32 of Oracle of Ruin

Something about the seemingly simple statement doesn’t sit right in my bones. I set my cutlery down, the metal utensils suddenly feeling too heavy in my hand, my breakfast sitting like stone in my stomach.

“The snow has mostly cleared.” Neris changes the subject quickly at the dip in my mood. “We should be able to head out in a few days.”

Mavis nods, her gaze never leaving my face. “Yes, good.”

“You haven’t introduced us to the new pet yet,” a voice calls from the other end of the table. Cheers of agreement ring out, some going as far as to bang their fists on the furniture. My glass rattles and nearly tips over, Emi catching it just in time. She looks over at Mavis to see if the mercenary noticed her quick reflexes, but the woman’s eyes are narrowed on the source of the voices.

“I see no need. I don’t like to share,” she replies. A deadly edge rests in her voice, the same lethal precision used in each flick of her tongue or toss of a dagger. Her tone is clipped and sharp, daring any opposer to face down the blade.

Silence greets the hall again as we finish our meals. My hand shakes as my fingers wrap around the cutlery.

“Your wrists are so thin,” Emi comments as if noticing for the first time.

I pull the thick sleeves of my sweater down and Neris shoots her a disapproving glare. She is right though. I sleep through the night now, my nightmares having ceased as quickly as they came and rarely plaguing my nights anymore. I have been eating food comparable to that served in the palace. Some days, I believe it may taste even better. Best of all, I’ve been able to keep all the food in my stomach after most meals. I have not missed the burn of my throat after retching until my chest heaves and my teeth feel soft. Nor do I miss the jog of shame to the bucket or toilet as I feel food rising in my throat just as quickly as it went down.

And yet I haven’t gained much of my weight back. If Kya were here, she would remind me that any growth comes slowly, even that which seems easy to achieve, and yet I know I should have been at least a few pounds heavier than this by now.

Mavis has not withheld medics from my room, and yet each of them has said the same thing—rest, eat plenty and often, and give it time.

I’ve given time long enough and gotten nothing from it. I am still skinny and frail and have taken to covering mirrors when they are not in use. I walked by once and nearly screamed in shock. I thought I was a specter, come to haunt me for my sins. Sure, I’d seen myself in rippling reflections of ponds and rivers, but they cannot capture the crystal clarity of a mirror—each of my flaws and jutting bones grossly detailed in the reflection.

I push my chair back and excuse myself softly. My slippered feet hardly make a sound on the rough stone as I slip into my room silently. I hang my clothes back up where I found them before slipping into a soft nightgown. The silky fabric is semi-sheer and falls to my ankles, whispering about as I move across the room. The dress drapes across my body with a sultry flourish and I sit on my stool. After dipping my hands into a basin of cool water, I lift them to my face, massaging the water in circles, wiping away any remainder of breakfast or the night before. Once satisfied in my cleanliness, I slink back to my bed, slipping between the sheets and picking up the book that rests closest to me. The lavender cover is soft and I flip to page one, snuggling into the blankets and soft pillows.

I breathe a laugh along with the characters, allowing their story to take me away from my own. I think if I could live within these pages, everything would be simpler. Life would make sense and there would be a happy ending for everyone. I hum softly. Nothing but a silly dream, I know.

I don’t blush at the romance this time, already desensitized to the filthy words. Somewhere along the lines, the characters shift into my friends. Rowan’s face forms that Cheshire grin within the pages, and a low shiver cascades down my spine. I snuggle in closer to the blankets, letting the fluffy duvet brush against my chin. The warmth is so inviting, and the pillows so comfortable, I allow the book to lay open on my chest and my eyes to flutter shut. I dream of fantastical worlds where the conflict seems so much more manageable. I make all the right decisions and play hero. Stories meant only to exist in dreams before the blade of reality severs all ties.

Chapter16

Rowan

Blaine is sitting in one of the spare rooms of the inn when I find him. My mother sits across from him, one ankle draped over the other. She seems to be doing better since Torin told us that Aiko and Finneas are alive. Her movements are fluid again, like she is doing everything intentionally, no longer stiff, forcing herself just to breathe. The same could be said for Blaine. The relief of knowing both his mother and Torin are alive has taken a few years off his face and demeanor.

I suppose they are doing the only thing we all can be doing—surviving day by day and praying for the next scrap of hope when the first runs out.

Blaine dips his chin in acknowledgment and my mother rises to leave the room. She pats my shoulder as she passes and gives me a smile that says,go easy on him.

My smile answers.I’ll try.

Blaine looks up as I settle down next to him. He is flipping a dagger between his fingers, the weapon looking rather small in the hands I’m used to seeing wield a sword.

I clear my throat. “You ready?”

He shudders in response. “Is it wrong to say no?” He elaborates when I remain silent. “I haven’t seen my mother in six months. She’s probably angry. I ruined her life and then ran.”

Even hunched over and in his smallest form, Blaine’s figure imposes on the room. He looks so foolish sitting on such a small stool, even though it would look normal if anyone else were sitting on it.

I hesitate before clasping his shoulder. “The world is ending. I think all is forgiven.”

Blaine doesn’t need flowery words or false promises. He needs the truth, and for perhaps for the first time in his life, someone is willing to give it to him.

His brows pinch and his lips form a hard line. He huffs softly but doesn’t shrug my hand off. “That is certainly one perspective.” Then he offers a half smile. “Thanks.”

His sincerity is uncharted territory and I find myself shifting uncomfortably. I lower my hand from his shoulder to scratch at the back of my neck. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“You two done with your bromance yet? We’ve got shit to do,” Amír shouts through the thin walls. Seconds later, her boot all but shatters through the already worn-down door. She glares at the dilapidated wood like it insulted her first.

“We don’t even get a hello these days.”

---