Chapter Nine
Later that evening, I go in search of Willow, finding her in the back garden, seated at the long wooden table across from Tristan. They’re sharing a bottle of something guaranteed to cause a regrettable hangover, their glasses sitting in front of them.
I haven’t spent much time back here, but evidence of Nerissa’s loving touches are everywhere, including the surrounding fence strung with small white lights, giving the entire space a warm glow.
“Hi,” I say as I approach my brother and sister, sliding onto the bench beside Tristan. “Mind if I join you?”
Tristan nods and hands me his glass.
“Elven wine,” he explains. “It’s not bad if you aren’t terribly attached to the lining of your stomach.”
I peer at the dark green liquid and take a sip, tasting notes of mint and honey layered with the strong punch of alcohol.
Willow has been avoiding me since the discussion this morning, and even now, she refuses to make eye contact. It’s clear she’s spent the day with Amya, because her black hair has been lightened to a dark blonde streaked with copper. It’s transformed her appearance so no one but the most astute observer would make the connection to me.
“Nice hair,” I say. “You look good like that.”
Willow scoffs and takes a sip of her drink, still avoiding my gaze.
“Willow, about what you said this morning—”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her expression crumpling. “I shouldn’t have said that to you.”
“No, it’s okay. But what did you mean by it? You understand that you owe me nothing for anything that happened in Nostraza? Right?”
She sighs and smacks her glass on the table. “How can you say that to me?”
I shake my head. “Willow, I don’t understand where this is coming from all of a sudden.”
“It’s not all of a sudden,” she says, raising her voice. “How do you think it felt knowing what those monsters were doing to you while I lay safe in my bed? Do you have any idea how much shame I feel that I let you take all of it? I’m supposed to be the big sister!”
“Willow.” I reach for her hand across the table, but she snatches it away. “It’s okay. That was all my choice.”
“No! Don’t do that. Don’t try to baby me. I’m not made of glass.”
I flinch at her words.
“Willow,” Tristan says. “You’re being a little hard on her.”
“You’re no better!” Willow yells at him. I’ve never heard her use her voice like this before. “Neither of you let me do anything.”
“What did you want me to do?” I ask, my anger starting to crest at this string of unfair accusations. “Just let them have you?”
“Why not?” Willow asks. “Why did you think you had to do that?”
“I was trying to help you! I did it for you!”
“I didn’t ask you to!”
My jaw drops. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I push up from the table. I don’t know what to do with my hands or body, I just need to create some distance. “What good would that have done? Then we’d both be entirely fucked up, too scared to let anyone in! At least you don’t have to close your eyes every fucking night and remember.”
I’m furious now, my body trembling with rage and fear and the memories that threaten to crush me.
“No, I just have to remember the way you’d lie in your bed every night trying desperately not to cry, knowing that I was the cause of it. Knowing that I could have shared the burden with you!”
“Willow, you’re not making any sense!”
She pushes herself up to stand.
“I can barely look at you,” she says, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s my fault you’re so angry all the time. That there’s a prince in that house who looks at you like you’re his entire world, and all you know how to do is push him away. It’s my fault that my baby sister is broken.”
“Willow—”
“No!” She holds up her hands and steps back. “Don’t come near me.”
She heaves out a sob, covers her face, and then disappears into the house, slamming the door.
I stare after her for several long seconds before I turn to my brother.
“What was that?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“Should I go after her?”
Tristan rises from his seat, wrapping an arm across my shoulders. “Just give her a little space. I’ll go and check on her.” He picks up his glass from the table and presses it into my hand. “Drink this. I’ll be right back.”
Then he, too, disappears into the house, and I drop onto the bench, slamming the entire contents of my glass back before dropping my forehead to the table. I stay in that position for several long minutes, replaying our conversation over and over. I had no idea this was how she felt. She never hinted at any of these regrets.
I try to put myself in her shoes and realize I would feel exactly the same if our positions had been reversed, but I can’t regret what I did. I meant what I said. At least only one of us has to live with those memories and that very specific brand of trauma.
I become aware of someone sitting down across from me before they drag the decanter of elven wine closer, filling up both glasses and pushing one of them next to my head.
“I know what it’s like,” comes a soft voice, and I look up to find Hylene. I’d been expecting Tristan. “To live with that darkness. To close your eyes at night and feel their rough hands. To hear the sounds of their breaths and remember the smell of their sweat as it turns your stomach.”
I push myself up the rest of the way as I scrub a tear from my cheek.
“You do?”
She shrugs, one arm crossed over her body and the other holding her drink.
“My mother was a prostitute at a high-end brothel in the Crimson District. She fell pregnant with me when she was only sixteen. They allowed her to keep me with her until I could help with the chores, so I worked in the kitchens and did odd jobs until they deemed me old enough for more.”
“More?” I ask, already dreading what she’s going to say next.
“I was thirteen when I was forced to ‘welcome’ my first customer,” she says, her eyes cold and distant. “I don’t remember his name or his face, but I remember how he made me feel. Like I was small and worthless. Like I didn’t matter and never would.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
She inhales a deep breath. “I found ways to survive. To block it out. I’m sure you understand.”
I nod. I do.
“How did you get away?” I ask.
“When I was eighteen, I was invited as an escort to a party at a popular cabaret. The asshole I was with got blind drunk and dragged me out onto one of the balconies. He tried to fuck me, but he could barely get his pants undone, and I don’t know what came over me that night. I’d just had enough. You know?”
I nod my head.
“I shoved him off me, and he flew into a rage because obviously he had a right to my cunt, and I owed him anything he wanted.” She takes a long sip of her drink, and though she speaks with detachment, emotion simmers in her eyes. “He shoved me towards the balcony and was about to push me over when Nadir heard me screaming.
“He came out and pulled him off me, and then… someone went over the balcony that night, but it wasn’t me.”
My eyes are wide. “Nadir killed him?”
Hylene smirks. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised.”
I bark out a laugh. “No. I guess I’m not.”
In a weird sort of way, I’m kind of proud of him for that. Not kind of. Very. He might pretend he’s all hardhearted, but I’ve seen what lies underneath.
“So what happened then?” I ask.
“Nadir checked that I was okay, and we got to talking. He asked if I wanted a job working for him. He needed someone to help with a few tasks, and I agreed immediately. I wanted out of the Crimson District so badly. He bought out the price of my indenture and set me up with a flat in the Violet District. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Wow,” I say. “How long ago was that?”
“Hmm, about fifty years or so.”
“And have you two ever…” I move my fingers back and forth, and Hylene laughs.
“No. That’s never what we’ve been to one another. Why? Would you have cared?”
“Of course not,” I say far too quickly to be believable.
“Of course,” she says, giving me a knowing look.
We both sip our drinks in silence for a few minutes, the distant sounds of the city and crickets floating on the breeze. A lightning bug buzzes through the air, and I watch as it twists and twirls, leaving a soft, glowing trail hovering against the dark.
“You really did that in Nostraza?” Hylene asks. “What your sister said?”
I nod.
“That was very brave of you.”
I snort. “Tell that to my sister.”
“She’s not angry with you,” Hylene says. “You must know that.”
“I know. I’m not sure how to fix this now. What’s done is done, and I’ve never blamed her for any of it, and I certainly don’t think she owes me.”
“You’ll both figure it out. It’s obvious how much you mean to each other. Just give her some time. We all deal with our ghosts in different ways.”
“Thanks,” I say, meaning it. “I really needed this. All of it.”
The corner of her mouth ticks up, and her green eyes sparkle as she leans forward.
“You can repay me by telling me more about your friend with the wings.”
My eyes widen.
“Who? Gabriel?”
Hylene lifts a delicate shoulder. “He had a certain long-suffering rage that was kind of hot.”
I groan and grab my glass, tipping it towards her. “Then I’m going to need another drink for this conversation.”