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Nothing quite like winning your own Tookah Trial, then being scored to shreds by your own blood for soiling the family name. Yes, I’m war hungry. I’ve earned that right. Seventy-eight times, to be exact.
What she did was, in many ways, completely unforgivable. Perhaps the diary will shed some light on the black hole she punched through my heart when she left without a word to me and a single pathetic note to the male she supposedly loved.
“Kaan was brought up constantly being told he’s not good enough. He’ll never admit it, but in his mind, he doesn’t deserve the honor of that being around your neck,” she
“Break him again and I’ll break you.”
“Do you want a bag for the candlestick?”
“How thoughtful! Yes, I’d love one.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need me to kill anyone in exchange for it, do you?”
“Ahh, no. We’ll pass,”
A big pair of ivory eyes stare blankly in my direction, a blow of icy breath battering my face as a cold, luminous, leathery nose nudges my chest. My chest that’s so full of love. So full of . . . Hurt. So much hurt—
“You’re missing something, but you don’t know what . . .”
“I—”
“Oh . . . my dear.”
“Something so . . . ...
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“The answer is within you. In the place where you hide everything. I could help you drain the—”
“That’s enough,”
“You’d be able to hear it coming if it weren’t for the iron cuff. And if you bothered to listen.”
“It’s easier not to,”
“You listen to Clode.”
“Clode’s playful, wild and vicious. Strong and feisty. She doesn’t wallow or sulk or feel sorry for herself.”
“Rayne is—”
“Tears. She’s bloodshed. Rayne’s the frost that sticks to the skin of the dead who are tossed over the wall for the beasts of The Shade to feast upon. Rayne’s the snow that coats t...
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“Power, my...
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“Rayne is power,”
“Half a world coated in powdered power no one is strong enough to wield. Though you could, if you did not tuck sadness into that icy lake within you, along with—”
“Thank you, kind sir. For accepting my candlesti...
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“It’s been my greatest honor, Raeve.”
She pushed my hands away and scrubbed me down, telling me that where she was brought up, bodies are not seen as something to be shy about, no matter their shape or size. That flesh is not treated as some great secret, and breasts are worshiped for the way they nourish the younglings of their clan.
Lately, folk are taking far too much interest in my life—past, present, and future. I’m sick of it. Kholu this. Offspring that. Let me peer into your mind and help excavate your past grievances— No fucking thank you.
“Thinking of going somewhere, Moonbeam?”
“Hmm?”
“I . . .”
“I’ve got all slumber,”
I swear his deep, raspy voice was designed by the Creators themselves to disable me. To tamper with my insides, rearrange me into a mindless idiot.
“The rest of my life, ...
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Welcome back, you crazy bitch.
“War is messy, Moonbeam. Even when it’s raised for the right reasons, no one truly wins until eons have passed, memories have faded, and all the hurt and loss starts to blur—”
“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
“I’m honored. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thank you for lending me this. I very much appreciate what you did for me in the crater.”
“It was not lent, Raeve.”
“This means things I can’t give you.”
“What do you think I want?”
A warm heart. Offspring to carry on his heritage. At the very least, someone who gets along with his swaggering sister.
Around him . . . sometimes words just feel inadequate.
Sighing, I recall the way Kaan’s eyes lost all their warmth when I offered him back his málmr . . . He was hurting. I know he was. I could see it. Perhaps I should’ve explained. Told him the last fae who saved my life did it to her detriment. That folk who care about me enough to put themselves in harm’s way tend to end up dead. He dodged that blow in the crater battling Hock. I’m not stupid enough to believe he could dodge another.
But to explain, I would’ve been forced to fish heavy, painful memories from that ice-covered lake inside myself, and I’m not doing that. Going within is eerie enough as it is. I’ve dumped all sorts of shit down there, adding to whatever else is already hiding beneath the surface. Who knows what I’d pull up.
Warm tears leak down my cheeks that only add to the gut-wrenching clamor flaying me with small, precise slits. And it doesn’t stop cutting.
“I once knew a female who’d cry when it rained, though she thought I never noticed,”
“Her name was—”
