Chapter Forty-Five Edith
Bea is bouncing with excitement. “I can’t wait!”
I’ve already helped her change into her new sequin party dress. Patricia was so excited about the Unity Celebration, she bought both of us new dresses for the dance. She surprised us with them after dinner last night. I was afraid to ask how expensive they were.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” I tell Bea as I brush out her hair. The sound of the brush gliding through her soft, long locks reminds me of home.
“I will,” Bea says. “If anything happens, we can just go berserk.”
“We can’t count on that.”
Ever since I confronted the truth of what happened to our mom, the animal in my chest has quieted. I thought this was what I wanted, but I feel empty without it. I hadn’t realized how much a part of me it was.
“Our mom was a berserkr, too,” I say, lowering the brush to my lap. “No one knew because she never went berserk…” My voice trails off. Until the very end, I don’t add.
“What was she like?” Bea asks quietly. “You know, our mom.”
My chest squeezes. This is something I’ve never wanted to talk about with Bea before. But maybe it’s better for both of us if we do. Even if she doesn’t remember them, they were her parents too. I try to think of the good times with Mom so I can share them with Bea.
“She had the biggest heart,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“She loved to laugh. A lot like you, actually. You remind me of her so much. She’d always sing along to the radio as loud as she could, not caring if anyone was listening.
She worked at the laundromat, so we spent a lot of time together there, but she always made it fun.
We’d make a game out of seeing who could collect the most lint or fold clothes the fastest. When she read to me, she’d do all the silly voices and really act the book out.
The one thing she couldn’t do was cook. She even burned bacon.
But honestly… I miss the taste of it now. ”
Bea wrinkles her nose. “She doesn’t sound anything like Patricia.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “Mom tried her hardest, but she struggled with severe depression, so sometimes she could barely take care of herself, let alone me. But they do have some things in common,” I add, trying to stay upbeat.
“You know how Patricia always caves whenever you ask her for something? Mom was the same way with me. And like Patricia, she’d drop everything to take us to the doctor or make sure I never missed classes, no matter how bad things got with Dad. She always put us first.”
As I say the words, I realize why.
Mom and Patricia both love us.
“I miss Mom and Dad,” Bea says, her voice quiet. I don’t know who she’s talking about—our birth parents or Jim and Patricia. But for the first time, I realize maybe it doesn’t matter. Jim and Patricia are our parents too.
“They should be here soon,” I remind her. “They insisted on seeing us before the dance.”
There’s a knock at the door.
Bea leaps up and throws it open. Jim and Patricia are standing there. Their eyes are wet as they scoop Bea up into a hug. I hang back, standing beside my bed. Jim looks up at me and smiles. “You both look beautiful.”
“I missed you,” Bea says tearily, nuzzling into Patricia.
Jim pats her shoulder gently, smiling as he takes in the sight of her.
As he stands there politely with his button-down blue shirt and khakis, it feels like I’m actually seeing him for the first time. Something finally clicks into place. Jim isn’t Dad. He’s never once hurt Patricia in all the years we’ve lived with them. He barely even raises his voice.
He would never hurt any of us.
I join Jim and Patricia, wrapping my arms around both of them. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Of course,” Jim says, patting my back. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“Are you girls all ready?” Patricia asks, finally letting go of Bea.
Bea twirls, and her sequin dress sparkles as she does.
Patricia laughs. “Looks like you are.”
“Edith isn’t,” Bea says.
“Well, why don’t I step out and let you finish up,” Jim says. “I could use a bite to eat. I’ll find my way to the cafeteria.”
“See you soon, sweetie,” Patricia says, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
Bea’s stomach growls. “Wait, I’ll come too!”
Once Jim leaves with Bea, closing the door quietly behind them, I turn to my bed, where the new dress lays draped across it.
It’s a long, off-the-shoulder sleeveless navy dress.
It looks beautiful—and expensive. Awkward silence settles over the room as I get undressed.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve been alone with Patricia like this. If ever.
I didn’t attend prom back home, not because I had no one to go with but because I was afraid of this.
Normally girls have their moms to help them get ready, to shop for dresses with them, to do their hair and makeup, but not me.
I avoided it altogether rather than face the painful reminder of Mom’s absence.
I pull on the dress, relieved it fits me, and slide on the strappy silver shoes Patricia brought for me.
“Very pretty,” Patricia says. “Navy was definitely the right choice.”
I shift a little, pulling at my dress. “You think so?”
She beams at me. “Definitely.”
I turn back toward the mirror and survey my reflection. The navy has a metallic sheen to it, glistening like stars in a night sky. The cut shows off my shoulders and hugs my hips before cascading loosely to the floor. It’s… beautiful.
“This reminds me of my prom,” Patricia says, a little tearfully. “You look so gorgeous. Thank you for letting me be here with you. When you didn’t attend prom back home, I can’t lie, I was disappointed.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask her.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Patricia wipes her eyes quickly. “I never wanted you to feel like I was trying to replace your mother.”
I hesitate a moment. “Is that why you haven’t adopted us?”
Patricia blinks in surprise, then bites her lip.
“Honestly, Edith, we’ve wanted to, but we weren’t sure if it’s what you wanted.
You’ve always seemed so aloof, and we were afraid you’d reject us, so we never brought it up.
Once you turned eighteen, we were going to give you the choice.
We’d either adopt you and Bea or you could choose to be independent.
And of course we’d support you no matter what you decided. ”
Is that why? My throat feels thick. For so long I’ve wondered why they haven’t. I thought I wasn’t good enough to be their daughter. I wasn’t perfect enough, not like Bea. When really, it was out of consideration for me this whole time. They just wanted to give me a choice.
“Thank you, Patricia,” I say, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Bea. We couldn’t have asked for better parents.”
Patricia’s eyes start to water again. “Oh, sweetie.”
A sharp knock startles us both.
“Bea?” I call out.
There’s a long pause as someone clears their throat. “It’s Amund.”
“Just a moment,” I tell Patricia before opening the door.
Amund is standing there, wearing a dark fitted suit with defined shoulders. My eyes widen. He looks so much less intimidating like this, and I’m also reminded anew of how handsome he is. Seeing him like this, I could almost forget he’s a hunter.
“I’m surprised you didn’t show up in your leathers,” I joke.
“I have them on underneath my suit,” Amund says, completely serious. “My father instructed some of us to, just in case there’s an incident at the dance.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I was hoping to talk to you. I wanted a moment alone before—oh, I apologize.”
Amund only now notices Patricia is here too.
“I was just leaving,” Patricia says, giving me an encouraging smile. I want to tell her it’s not what she thinks, but she’s already slipping out the door. “I forgot I have to go meet Jim and Bea at the cafeteria.”
Before I can argue, Patricia is bustling down the hall.
“Come in,” I tell him.
He follows me inside, and once the door clicks closed behind us, he says, “Your dress.”
My cheeks grow hot. “What about it?”
“The back is coming undone.”
“Oh,” I say, a little embarrassed, as I fumble for the zipper awkwardly. At first I thought he was going to say I looked pretty or something, and I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.
Amund takes a step closer. “Let me help.”
As I turn around, I’m aware of just how much of my back is exposed to him. “Okay.”
“If I had asked you first,” he says, reaching for my zipper, “what would your answer have been?”
I fall quiet as he brings the zipper up carefully. The slow ziiiip is the only sound between us. As he secures the top clasp, his fingers brush my sensitive skin. A shiver shoots through me at the contact, feeling like an electric current passing through my body. I have to calm my racing heart.
“I don’t know,” I manage to get out, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Even if you had, it’s not like we could really be seen together. What would the hunters think if you showed up with a berserkr?”
“The others don’t matter to me.” His hand stills, his knuckles briefly brushing my exposed skin. “Only you do, Edith.”
His voice is low and gentle. Heat spreads through my body like molten lava. I can feel the longing in the simple gesture as he slowly strokes the back of my neck. Feel how it holds the promise of so much more.
Thinking of my parents, I take a step away from Amund.
“How does it look?” I ask him, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
Amund drops his hands to his sides and clears his throat. “Beautiful.” He falls quiet before adding, “I’ve never been more envious of Nils.”
The tension between us pulls taut.
I don’t know if I should admit this or not, but… “I can’t be in a relationship with anyone, especially not a hunter. Not after what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through.” I won’t specify more than that. I’ve already said too much, but I feel the need to break this unbearable silence between us.
“I understand, Edith. More than I can say,” Amund says after a beat.
I give him a small smile. “I know.”
He offers me his hand. “Would you still give me a dance, anyway? For what might have been.”
Words lodge in my throat. All I can do is nod as I take his hand.
We don’t need an invisibility stave in my room.
This moment is just for us.
Amund gently draws me closer and begins to dance with me slowly.
“You’re actually pretty good at this,” I say breathlessly.
Barely any distance separates us now.
“It’s not so different from battle,” he says, his voice husky.
He moves with fluid grace and precision, the same way he does when we train. His body is sharply honed, and I can feel the hard planes of his muscles beneath my hand as we dance. He is dangerous. A predator that hunts prey like me. He is everything I shouldn’t want.
So why do I feel like there’s nowhere else I’d rather be?
Why am I drawn only to him?
Amund lowers his face toward mine. Or maybe I’m lifting up off my feet to bring my lips closer to his. I don’t know who moves first. Trying not to kiss each other feels like a battle we’re both about to lose—
A knock on the door startles us apart.
“Edith?” Nils calls out.
Amund and I exchange a quick, shocked look.
“Just a moment,” I call, panic pounding through me. Nils absolutely cannot find us together. Especially not alone in my room like this, after whatever was just about to happen.
Amund opens his mouth, but I hold up a finger to my lips, widening my eyes.
We both look around the room, desperate.
The closet. I hurry over and pull it open, motioning for Amund to get inside.
He looks reluctant, to say the least, but nods.
He’s so large he can barely fit inside. That has to be uncomfortable, but I force the doors shut before he can protest, sealing him away.
After straightening my dress, I rush to the door. “Sorry, just finishing getting ready.”
“You look beautiful.” Nils beams at me, holding out a bouquet of flowers. “This is for you.”
He wears a tan-colored suit with a dark bow tie. He looks rather sophisticated, and I suspect his mother had a hand in getting him ready. Except for his hair—it’s still all curly and loose.
“It’s an assortment of wildflowers,” Nils continues nervously. “Arctic thyme, sheep sorrel, harebell. It seemed fitting for you.” A blush spreads across his cheeks. “I hope you like it.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the bouquet from him. I breathe in the scent—they’re fresh and still fragrant, the light floral scent reminding me of running through a field blanketed by wildflowers, wild and open and free. “They’re perfect.”
Nils grins and holds out his arm to me. “Ready?”
I pause, my fingers tightening around the stems of the flowers until I’m strangling them.
“Of course,” I say, forcing a smile.
But as I take Nils’s arm, I can only think of Amund.