Chapter 12
CHAPTER
12
Matching tattoos with Versa accomplished checking another item off my list, making the time I spent at home with family still feel like progress. I did my very best to make those days feel as normal as possible. For them and for myself. I had realized that if someday Versa learned of my implied death, these were the days she’d think back on. I wanted them to be happy ones for her. Not ones where I hid away because I couldn’t get my grief or anger in check.
Even though my mother and father knew where I was truly headed, they had no idea the outcome and never would. For them, too, these would be our last days together, and I wanted to show my gratitude for the amazing life they had given me.
I ate all my meals with at least one of them. Most dinners involved all of us together, just like when I was young. Midway through the week a letter was delivered to me, and I carried it back to my room to open in private. When I saw the crest on the wax seal, I knew exactly who it was from. Gris did not waste an inch of parchment with hollow greetings or misguided flattery.
Cress-
Maybe we don’t have to wait another seventy-five years… I know this isn’t what you were expecting, and it’s not what you asked of me. I haven’t stopped thinking of you since you left. Everything feels different for me (now). I know you’re leaving, and I couldn’t bring myself to say all this in person in case you could not return the feelings. I needed to tell you before you left. I’m not asking you to stay, but I need you to know I’d wait for you; just say the word. If by chance you felt something too, send a reply by letter and I’ll come to see you off. But if I do not hear from you, then I will assume you do not return my affections and I wish you safe travels as my true friend, until I see you again.
Yours, Gris
I had been unconsciously holding my breath while reading every word, again and again. I couldn’t have felt any worse. This was exactly what I did not want to happen, and it was all my fault. Perhaps if I wasn’t leaving, I’d have entertained this. If…if I hadn’t met Trace. I was still in shock that Gris had put himself out there like this. This was very uncharacteristic of him. He was too prideful for something like this.
Anytime Gris was seeing someone, I was always the one pushing him to make his feelings known, teasing him that not everyone was going to read his mind just to get to the bottom of his true intentions.
No, this was very unlike him. I wanted to write him back, but only to apologize, tell him the truth, and let him change his sentiment from affection to disappointment; even disgust would be fitting and what I deserved. If he had known how I had used him, how I’d lied, he wouldn’t feel this way. I had already moved on to all-consuming thoughts of another. What I had done was not honorable. He didn’t deserve that.
I spent most of the afternoon deeply saddened in my room trying to decide what to do. There was no making this right without telling him the truth, which I could not do… By early evening, I had decided the best answer was no answer.
Like he said, if he didn’t hear back then he’d assume my feelings weren’t the same. I went to the fireplace in my bedroom, eyes watering, my hand shaking with nervous regret as I dropped the letter into the flames, watching it quickly shrivel and turn to ash.
If I had kept that letter, I might have looked at it every day until I left. I might have changed my resolve and wavered on what needed to be done. The idea of bringing pain to Gris had me spinning out with thoughts of Trace. Was I doing the same thing to him? Would my attractions lead me to an inescapable web? Had the silks already begun weaving?
I had the luxury of walking away from whatever destruction I left behind, they did not. There were times I had myself convinced that I wouldn’t return to Trace, but there was an undeniable pull. It wasn’t just physical. The intrigue ate away at me almost every night.
I wanted to know more about him. He had shared so little, and I could tell there was much more to him. He was always holding back, carefully crafting his responses while trying to come off nonchalant. But it was in the between moments where I saw glimpses of it. A small cracked grin, a tamed laugh, a tightened jaw, a quiet sadness. I was immensely curious to understand the enigma that was Trace.
To get through the days leading up to my return, I reminded myself that it was a choice. I had decided I would meet him as he requested, but I knew I had the freedom to alter my plans. It was these small reminders of freedom that brought me a reprieve from the fact that it dwindled with each passing day.
I spent the next two days helping my mother and sister with wedding activities. Cake tasting was one thing I was not disappointed to partake in. My mother kept giving me disapproving looks as I finished off every full piece of cake, which they had only sampled. It’s funny how pleasurable things could be when you didn’t care.
One evening, I joined my father privately in his study. I found it hard to spend time with him, and I think he knew why. The unspoken guilt of what he was about to put me through. The helplessness spanned his every feature, making him appear gaunt. When he saw me enter the room, closing the door behind me, my heart fluttered at the small bit of warmth that returned to his expression.
He spoke cautiously, unsure of himself. I was pained by the uncomfortable energy wafting between us.
“I’m, uh, glad you’ve decided to join me.”
I nodded. “I’ve been very busy, but I’ve missed you.”
I offered him what I could in the way of verbal affection, so that he knew this was not easy on me either. The awkward silence stood between us, making the air seem stale. I struggled to reconcile this foreign sentiment between he and I, all our other encounters having been so warm and effortless.
Remembering how I had been meaning to bring up Mother’s recent treatment of the staff, I mentioned, “Have you noticed how rude Mother has been toward the servants? It’s really unacceptable.”
He sighed before answering. “Your mother has been… Well, she is struggling. She should not be taking it out on the others as she has been, but you must know how hard this is for her. Even if she isn’t open enough to discuss it with you directly. Your mother is not accustomed to being denied what she wants—keeping her daughter.”
I hadn’t realized that maybe her behavior had more to do with losing me than the stresses of the wedding. Since we hadn’t really spoken of the Offering, I had begun to feel like she’d accepted my fate more than either me or my father.
My father could see the contemplation in my expression.
“I don’t think she has felt this powerless since I was kept away during the catastrophe at Erisas Bay. Let her process it all in her own way. Her distance is not directed at you, just as her outbursts toward the staff are not about them.”
“I see your point,” I answered.
“You know, Cress, I had hoped to give you what you wanted. You deserved to see the world. To sail the ocean by my side. I’m so sorry we waited…” He paused. “...We waited too long.”
I rested my head on my hand, sharing that regret. “I know. It’s not your fault, Father.”
He looked over at his desk and shelf, full of books and maps.
“I would have loved for it all to be yours,” he said with a choked smile.
My eyes widened as he continued, “I have always known you weren’t going to choose the life of a High Lady, like your sister. You are wild and untamable. It would have been silly of me to try. You were meant for more, for adventure, just like me.”
My father wasn’t usually long-winded; I did my best to let him speak what was on his mind.
“I don’t have much that brings me peace these days. I suppose I’ve spun a story in my head that you’re headed off into a great adventure, an unknown that not even I have explored. That whatever you’re doing for King Aeon will bring continued peace to all. That my daughter isn’t offered, but chosen.”
His eyes welled with tears, and he wiped them away on his shirt. My tears had betrayed me as well. I wanted to believe my father’s words, desperately. This romanticized version of what was happening to me, to them. Instead of fighting it, I let us both believe, in that moment, that it was true. He would never know if it was or wasn’t. I would let him have this.
“I think so, too, Father. I will make you proud. I promise.”
He smiled back at me through wet lashes, making his eyes sparkle like emeralds in the firelight. The same eyes I bore.
The raw emotion between us fashioned an opening, and before I knew it, I had begun an onslaught of questions that had been locked away in my mind for days.
“How many other sons and daughters do you think will arrive with me?” I asked quietly, just in case prying ears were listening.
My father looked pained, like he wanted to offer me answers he didn’t have.
“I’m not entirely sure. There aren’t many High Court families left to begin with. Not since the war. That goes for Royal and Honored members. The age of conscription is twenty. Our honored allies in House Huxley and House Kasparov have children too young to conscript.”
I clung to his every word for any bit of information that I could deem valuable.
“I have no idea if it’s true, but rumor amongst the High Court is that they do not accept those who are with child or raising children under the age of conscription. One can also assume they only accept those in good health,” he said.
I rolled my eyes; obviously, to protect and continue the bloodlines. Legacy and heirs above all else, right? Thinking through what he had said about how few families made up the court, I wondered to myself how many of those included ones with children younger than twenty.
Is that what I had to do to be excluded, just get myself pregnant? The pieces swirled in my mind like a puzzle as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Young, but not too young. Free of obligations like giving birth or raising children. Healthy. Independent. High Fae. Well, so far, they had me pegged.
“Is there anything else you’ve heard?” I questioned, hopeful for more information.
“It is said that the Offering came about because the first king of our lands was faced with a dire decision. One that required him to offer up all of his sons and daughters. They were referred to as the Forgotten Fae.”
My eyes widened at the horrible thought of a father giving away all of his children. But I remained silent and let my father continue.
“Henceforth, the king decreed that all families of the High Court would be required to make tribute as well, if called upon. Every family complied to show their gratitude for the great sacrifice, and it’s been upheld ever since.”
I took a deep breath, trying to fathom how many years back this had gone, wondering how many times the Offering had been called, how many faces and names were lost to time.
“Father, is there anything else you can tell me? Perhaps you have some books or texts on our histories?”
I prayed he had something that I could scour for more information, anything at all that might give me more insight regarding what was in store for me or that I could use to further decipher Aster’s words.
“Sadly, no. On this matter, little more is known, for the knowledge is protected and dangerous to seek.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice.
“I need to tell you something, Cress. You must protect yourself. At all costs. I don’t care what you’ve been taught about etiquette, using your abilities, being a lady. None of that means anything now. Just please be careful, and survive. Now is not the time to hold back. Guard everything, including your heart.”
I had never heard my father use such a direct tone with me. There was no longer sadness or worry, just intensity burning with a protectiveness that I knew had always existed in him but rarely needed to be shown. Before me was one of the guild leaders who had survived the Seafarer rebellion, who had encountered all sorts of vicious creatures and peoples along his travels and returned without a scratch. His words became brands in my mind. I spent the rest of the evening in his study, silently thumbing through random books and maps by his side.
We no longer offered each other words, only the comfort of one another’s company. A scene we had played out many times before, when he was preparing for travels or returning from them. Together in the study, we could pore over the things that excited us. Things that were a bore to Versa and my mother. This was ours.
Outside these walls, there was expectation and tradition. But alongside my father is where the dream of a life at sea was born. I kissed my father on the cheek before heading to bed.
That night, I tossed and turned in bed with the complicated decision of whether or not I’d spend the next morning packing things to make the return trip to Trace, or continue to play out my remaining days at home.
With the normalcy of daily life, the house felt more like home again. My leaving and all the lies we’d told no longer had to be the center of attention. With that, my anxiety and tension subsided.
When I awoke the next morning, I felt free and clear-minded. For the past few days, I’d wrestled with the decision of whether or not I’d return to Trace. Gris’s letter did not help ease my resolve. Once again, I couldn’t help but ask myself if I was I putting Trace in the same position, where I’d leave him wanting more than I could give? What mental state was I putting myself in, knowing I had developed deeper feelings? I knew this now, because each day apart, the longing and doubt ate away at my every thought.
Even though I had made my mind up to return to Trace and fill the void of his absence, I was able to be present at breakfast. I enjoyed witnessing the playful flirting between my mother and father. No matter the years that passed, their love for one another was obvious. I silently hoped the same for Versa and her betrothed. That her love would be a great one. But I would not have this luxury.
The gift of time and some long-drawn-out love story wouldn’t be mine. But I did have this—whatever this thing was—with Trace. I would relish that.
I gathered a much larger pack this time, filling it with more than a handful of undergarments, which made me smile to myself when folding. I wouldn’t be caught without them or smelling like pond water again. I was preparing to be gone for at least a week. I didn’t have a clue what he had in mind or how long he’d want to spend together, but I was going to make sure I was prepared. I included a handful of toiletries, but nothing fancy to keep up the charade that I did not come from wealth.
Versa came into my room as I was preparing my things. I had already warned her that I was going to go back to him and that I might stay longer than last time. She did not try to dissuade me, and only teased me to exercise some self-control this time. Each time she joked, I rolled my eyes.
I wished her luck with the nuptial planning and encouraged her to pay a visit to her betrothed. She was all in a tizzy about adhering to the customs of not seeing him in the couple of months leading up to the event, but I said, What would a bride that wears two dresses do ? She couldn’t argue with that.
In her world, all of these things like tradition, customs, and expectations still carried weight. To me, they now seemed silly and meaningless. I knew she wasn’t able to relate, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t encourage a little recklessness. Before leaving my room, I took one last glance at what remained on the list.
Lose my maidenhead
Seduce a stranger
Gamble till I win
Get drunk
Alter my appearance
Help someone in need
Get a tattoo
Do something that scares me
Swim naked in the moonslight
Say my goodbyes
I was too embarrassed to explain to our parents why they might not see me for a little while. Though they likely wouldn’t pry, I told Versa to cover for me and I’d go along with whatever lie she made up.
Once more, the stable hand prepared Rain with the unmarked saddle that had become standard for these solo trips. Together we took off into a sprint through the forest, and I was overcome with the anticipation of finally returning to Trace after what felt like the shortest and longest week of my life.