Chapter 15 Mance, Without Poise, Without Livid
Mance, Without Poise, Without Livid
I can’t remember the last time I woke up smiling.
It’s not an easy smile. The emotional weight of everything that happened yesterday is heavy in my chest, difficult to parse.
And yet, somehow, I feel lighter than I have since I took the throne.
I glance at the tree outside, but Silver must have already gotten up because the branches are empty.
So I stumble into the living area of our chambers, groping around for the tray of hot tea and pastries that is usually left for me, hoping for a moment to myself before I start my day.
Only to come up short when I realize that there’s a full breakfast set up by the window.
With Reltas waiting for me beside it.
I swallow, unsure how to react, but it’s not until he looks me up and down with one raised eyebrow that I realize I’m still wearing my nightgown and I haven’t done a thing with my hair or makeup since I came back from traipsing around in the woods in the middle of the night.
I must look a mess. Poise would never have let this happen, but she’s not back yet.
Ergo, I merely lift my chin and wait for Reltas’s response.
He doesn’t say anything, though. He merely pushes a plate of breakfast crepes toward me in clear invitation and nods to the chair across from him. So instead of going back into my room to change, I take a seat and help myself.
We eat in silence for a moment, and it’s awkward. Both of us are stealing glances, regarding each other anew in the light of day, overly conscious of the heavy emotions of last night and unsure about how we should act now. Every clink of silverware on dishes seems inordinately loud.
“Can we just . . . pretend it never happened?” Reltas says finally. The question is gruff, as though hard to get out.
And, of course, I understand why.
I slice my crepe into smaller pieces, considering it.
Poise would say yes. She would make it easy for him and then smoothly change the subject, returning our relationship to the distant and barely cordial one Reltas would clearly prefer.
But she’s not here. And the words that come to my mind are not smooth.
“I don’t think I can,” I say.
“You could try,” he snaps testily.
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
For better or worse, I give him an honest answer. “Because it’s the first time I saw something in you that I can actually understand.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. His lip curls in an immediate snarl, and his eyes shutter. “You will never understand me.”
He thinks that because I don’t have Livid in me now. But we have so much more in common than just rage.
I pick up the tea and take a sip. Then, instead of replying, I summon all my animals into the room in one blink, filling it with their presence.
I don’t have every single one, of course. Livid has the predators, Poise has the birds, and I can no longer summon the bugs. I shudder at the memory of Mara’s necklace stealing away my magic, erasing some of my creatures, before quickly dismissing it from my mind.
Even so, I have enough to make the space feel uncomfortably crowded.
Reltas jolts, ripping his eyes from mine to take them all in.
When I summoned them, I meant to explain.
To tell him that I killed each of these with my bare hands, that I was forced, that carrying them with me is both a reminder of what I’ve been through and also, somehow, an integral part of who I am, one that I don’t want to get rid of even if it is painful.
But it turns out I don’t have to say any of that.
Because in the same way that I understood more corners of his pain than he actually put into words last night, Reltas understands me now.
I can tell by the way that he collapses back in his chair, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, wordlessly surrendering the argument to me as he studies the memories I’m willing to show him.
For a moment, it’s almost nice. To share this, to see each other this way. For him to recognize pain and history in the power that I have. To be known, even by an enemy.
But then . . . something happens.
Something that hasn’t ever happened before.
My creatures have always reacted to my emotions, but instead of relaxing into the moment the way I am, they all suddenly and simultaneously tense up.
Out of nowhere, wounds erupt on their bodies. Familiar ones, exactly as they were on the days that they died. Each one even replays their final pose, their final sounds, all at once, be it yowl or snarl or gasping breath.
Instead of living, breathing creatures, we are suddenly surrounded by zombies.
I panic, surging to my feet and sending my chair toppling, as I am brought right back to that place.
I feel like nothing more than a child, forced to hurt, not knowing how to make it stop.
In a desperate attempt to cut off the display, I call them all back.
But that only transfers their battles to my mind.
When I kill, I am barraged with memories and impressions of the animal’s life, but those usually settle down quickly. They blend into the rest of me, never to be relived.
Only now they’re rising up again. All the death that I brought, all the lives that I stole, all assaulting me in an overlapping cacophony.
And Reltas just sits there, studying me, watching the turmoil play out on my face. Probably thinking that I meant to show him this. “Enough,” he says coolly. “I get it. Maybe you do understand.”
I make a noise, though I’m not sure if it really came from me or from one of my creatures, because the sound isn’t entirely human. I back up, tripping on the fallen chair behind me and crashing into a heap on the floor.
“Hey,” Reltas says, eyebrows drawing together. “Are you—”
But I don’t hear the rest of his question, because I’ve put my hands over my ears, futilely trying to shut out the babel of discordant death rattles that I can still hear. It’s too much. Too overwhelming. I can’t—
Suddenly, there are fingers under my chin, forcing my gaze up. And then all I can see is his acid green eyes.
They’re not kind. They’re not gentle. But they won’t let me go, and that’s all I need right now. I latch on to him like an anchor until the turmoil within me eases, quiets, and then finally, mercifully, subsides.
Then a beat passes, and I swallow against his fingers.
If I thought the silence was heavy before, now it is screaming. Because he watched every change in my expression, observed each moment of pain as it crossed my face. And his own eyes have shifted as well, into something I don’t understand.
I can tell that he realizes he could let me go.
For that matter, I could break away. But just like last night, neither of us moves, as though doing so would be admitting surrender.
Unlike last night, though, our stares are not so intense, not so angry.
It’s harder to hide anything in the stark light of day than it was in the shadows of the forest, and there’s an openness to him now that wasn’t there before.
As though seeing me struggle made him realize that I’m human, too. Just as messy and complicated as he is.
“So,” I say finally, my voice raspy. “Do you think you could forget what you just saw?”
His eyes flick between mine, as though he might find the answer there. “No,” he admits after a pause. “Probably not.”
“What if we just didn’t, then?” I press, leaning closer. “What if you stopped trying to hate me and admit that we have more in common than you’d like to think? We could be . . . friends. If you’re willing.”
At the word, something hard flashes across his face, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing again. He drops his fingers from my chin as though I’ve burned him and backs up rapidly.
“No,” he grinds out. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?” I don’t ask the question in an accusatory way.
I genuinely want to know. “Because of my father? I know he caused you incredible suffering, but he wasn’t exactly kind to me, either.
” I gesture around the room even though my animals are no longer there.
“If we could just talk, I truly believe we might come to some sort of . . . understanding.”
He scoffs, shooting me a glare. But when I refuse to return the sentiment, the glare turns pained.
The silence stretches again, as I stubbornly refuse to fill it, waiting on him to speak.
Instead, after several tense minutes, Reltas turns on his heel, stalks into the hallway, and slams the door shut behind him.
I pull my knees up and let my head thunk onto them as I listen to the thud of his heavy footsteps retreating down the front steps.
Impossible, he said.
But I know he’s wrong. Suddenly, I can picture it, unfolding in front of me.
There could be a way to make a marriage between us something more than political.
I could earn his respect, over time. He could win my affection, by degrees.
It would take an incredible amount of work and dedication, probably over the course of years. But . . . it could happen.
And even considering that feels like a betrayal.
My creatures, only just settled, begin to riot again, and I feel completely unmoored. Restless and anguished. I want to throw my chair out the window, cast the table into the fire.
Clutching my stomach as though trying to hold the rampaging animals inside, I return to my room, only to find Poise waiting for me. Her lips are pursed, either because of my appearance or whatever she overheard, but I don’t bother defending myself as I call her back.
Only to be shocked once again by the vicious pain of it.