Journal Entry 5
Zaskja Stormsson
To the man I used to think of as mine,
It’s been two days since you and Nika announced you’d be uniting the Vales and the Fjords.
Two days since our streets have rung with laughter and cheer.
Two days of hiding in my pit house, feigning unremitting nausea and stomachaches.
Two days during which Mor has talked my ear off about Sigrid’s endeavor to plan the most memorable ceremony.
Everyone is so freaking excited, one would think the pack was about to celebrate a Fenrir-ordained union instead of a diplomatic one.
Even Saga is excited.
However unreasonable, her eagerness feels like a betrayal. Since she isn’t aware of how deeply I care I’d cared about you, my feelings are entirely unjustified.
Do you know that she almost guessed there was more to my staying in bed than a bellyache when she popped by this morning?
Do you know why she popped by?
To ask if I was feeling up to helping her with something that required my smithing skills: a present for Nika. Every godsdamn thing Saga talks about these days has to do with Nika.
Why must I care that my cousin wants to give her future sister-in-law a bangle with two entwined Ns?
Why did I have to gape at her for several solid minutes, only stopping when she asked what was wrong with my face?
Why did I blurt out, “She’ll already wear Nordin’s name on one of her ears. Does she really need a bangle?”
Why did my best friend have to reply that Nika was about to be family—like Lenora had been—and one should spoil their family?
My grief warped to anger at the mention of Lenora and Nika in the same sentence. Not only was Lenora the embodiment of sweetness, but she was also Bjorn’s true mate, not some fake one in need of extra protection from her real one.
Ugh.
I never wished so hard for the bond between Nika and Havrik to plait anew.
Honestly, though, the worst was when Saga added: “Even though Nika can never replace Bjorn or Lenora, I’m so excited to get a new sister.”
When she said that, I jumped out of bed, raced to the privy in the corner, and dry-heaved over it, pretending my stomach was spasming when in truth, it was my heart.
My poor, stupid heart.
Even though I’m worried about leaving Mor, I really can’t wait to get out of here.
Two scant days to go.
Two scant days until I can finally leave this land…this family…you.
With no love left to give (you’ve wasted it all),
Zaskja