CHAPTER FORTY-TWO #4
“I fucked up,” she continued, her words laced with tension.
“I fucked up worse than I’ve ever fucked up before, and you paid the price.
You deserve limitless apologies—I know that.
I also know that I could spend the rest of my life apologizing, and it would never be enough.
So all that’s left is to show you. Show you that I mean it when I say I will never disregard your autonomy again.
That your life is your own, and no one—especially me—has the right to force you to make anything of it other than what you wish. ”
The creeping cold soothed my scorching face, and the fear lighting up my limbs began to dim in the wake of her admission.
Slowly, I turned on my heel, just enough so that I could make out her furrowed, agony-stricken features.
This was her doing I reminded myself, but it was clear from her voice alone that I was no longer the only person suffering from the results of her actions.
I shouldn’t have felt bad for her. She didn’t deserve that from me. And yet…
With a steadying inhale, I faced her with the posture of a princess—squared shoulders, lifted chin, and hands clasped before me in a manner befitting the title I’d all but relinquished.
My chest still rose and fell rapidly, betraying the state I’d been in only moments prior, but I trained my features into something more expectant as I forced out the demand, “Well?”
Vayen’s brow knitted together, confusion replacing the pain on her face. “Well what?”
“Where’s my apology?” I asked, attention dropping to her mouth just as hers had when she’d said much the same to me all those days ago in the Ugly Tankard.
There. The quirk of her lip as she caught on, and the dimple that always followed close behind. This expression suited her far more.
“Haven’t I already given it?” she echoed my own words back to me.
“Saying I deserve limitless apologies and actually apologizing are not the same thing,” I said, closing the distance between us, stopping only when she was within reach.
But instead of the aren’t they? I expected, she took a step forward only to peer down at me in that maddening way, like I was the one creature in all of Morwyn that had managed to puzzle the likes of her.
“They are not the same thing,” she agreed finally with a gentle nod, breaking the spell of our first conversation’s recreation.
“I will never be more sorry for anything in my life. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or to accept my apology, but know that it is yours regardless.
And I intend to remind you of that fact with alarming regularity.
You might even come to find it annoying. ”
“I doubt that very much,” I challenged, grateful that my body seemed to be calming in response to our closeness.
“I do have one peace offering,” Vayen said.
“More cookies?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She shook her head at my hopeful smile before angling her arm to the back of her belt.
When her hand returned, it held my unadorned, crude excuse for a dagger. My lips parted in surprise as I palmed the hilt, fingertips grazing the faded curve of a wing carved into the pommel.
“Quite a simple thing for a princess,” Vayen commented, and she was right. The sheath was plain, stitched from now-cracked leather, and the tip finished with nothing more than a dull bit of iron to keep the blade from slicing through.
“Indeed. My Captain had to obtain it for me in secret, you see. Real Sentinels receive far superior weaponry.” Attached to the sheath was a single loop of leather that allowed me to secure it to my belt in that perfectly angled way.
“Thank you for this, Vayen. And thank you for your apology. I can’t forgive you just yet, but I will say that I understand why you did what you did, as misguided as it was. ”
“You don’t need to—”
“I know I don’t need to,” I interrupted, tightening the loop.
“By way of thanks, I hope you will answer me honestly when I ask you to explain your reasoning.” When she tilted her head in confusion, the curls on her forehead shifting, I continued, “You went to Lunamor despite the Feast of Comets, and you brought two of your family with you. It was arguably the most dangerous time for you to visit my kingdom, yet you came anyway, all for the slightest chance that I might be able to help. How can you be willing to throw all of that away now?”
I hoped desperately that my inquiry wouldn’t make her question her decision, but I knew in that moment I had to ask.
I couldn’t risk us returning to Grenythwood Village, only for her to subject me to the same treatment half a season from now if she decided there was no other option to save Milo.
I needed to understand her reasoning so that I could sleep and exist soundly knowing she wouldn’t change her mind.
Vayen’s inhale was deep, shoulders reaching for her ears. She held it there, like a weight she was frightened to release, but then her chin fell to her chest, and she expelled the breath to the forest floor. She avoided my gaze as she spoke, voice barely pitching above a whisper.
“I realized that if I went through with my plan, I would be no better than the man who attacked you, and no better than Gavner.”
The carefully constructed wall of my denial shifted. I knew the memory of the assault lay on the other side, waiting for its moment to pounce, but I managed to draw my focus back to Vayen as she continued.
“I’m all Milo has left, and if I allow the burden of this curse to transform me into the very thing I hate…” She spoke quietly, barely more than a shameful rasp. “What would it all be for? What would I have succeeded in saving, and at what cost?”
I stared at her then, the truth hanging heavy in the slight space between us.
I knew it was happening before I felt it—the subtle unraveling of the denial I’d befriended so that I might get myself to safety, memory intact.
Her sincerity pulled loose the very first thread before tugging indiscriminately against the seams of my dissent, until all that remained was the reality I had fought so hard against.
I couldn’t believe the words as they escaped me, and I wondered even as I spoke them into existence if I was of sound mind, or if I’d relinquished my wits entirely.
“Damn you, Vayen Videa. Damn you straight to the depths.”
“What?” she asked, her voice throaty with incredulity.
“Help me mount this beast once more before I change my mind,” I said, stepping away from her to stroke Rummy’s side.
The question strewn about her face was plain as fresh snowfall, but I answered it before she could ask.
“We’re not going home. We’re going to find out if these damnable Moonlight Trials can save your people. It’s time to cross the Threshold.”