Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Ophelia
My heart hammered in my chest as I reconsidered the decision we were about to make. Reaching out absently, I dragged my hand down one of the many trees nestled at the top of the hill we perched on, feeling a splinter pierce my skin.
“I don’t like this.” I turned to my circle of friends, pulling the thin piece of wood from my palm as I searched each face like I must commit it to memory.
After two attacks, thinking I might lose both my sister and my best friend, I was less inclined to take risks than usual.
The fear that had gripped my stomach in those moments swooped through me again, and my hands shook.
“Ophelia, we don’t have a choice,” Rina responded. Her eyes were clear, as if she knew exactly what she was doing and believed in her decision. “There is nothing to fear.”
I gnawed on my lip. “I should be the one to go,” I repeated for the tenth time, but all four of them shook their heads.
From his spot on the ground—his leg too weak to hold him up for long—Tolek reiterated their argument, “You and Jezebel must stay here. You’re much too recognizable as Alabaths.
” His soul-searching eyes stared into mine, and I had a feeling he had an ulterior motive for keeping me here, given that he was too weak to make the theft himself.
I sighed in resignation, looking down the hillside across the southern border of Turren and into the corner of the city where their market lay.
The sun had barely risen, pale yellow light settling over the quiet streets, wooden stalls, and thatched roofs.
Branches swayed in the gentle morning breeze.
Soon, tradesmen would set up their wears for the crowds that would flood the streets.
Customers would wind their way through the makeshift tents, buying fruits and meats and freshly baked bread.
It was a smaller city than Palerman, but large enough that they wouldn’t miss the food we swiped from their market.
“Cyph, you should go as well,” I instructed.
“I’m capable on my own,” Santorina said, a bit of heat in her voice.
“I believe that, Rina, but two will be faster than one, and you’ll be able to carry more together.” We needed enough food for the second half of our journey, having gone days with nothing more than wild fruit, and blankets if they were able.
Rina nodded in understanding, and Cypherion took up his place beside her, leaving the majority of his weapons in our circle beneath the trees, including his scythe.
He only kept a band of knives around his arm.
“People will be less trusting of me if I’m cloaked in weapons,” he explained when I raised my eyebrows in concern.
“All right,” I agreed. “Go. Before I second-guess this plan.”
They laughed at my nerves before heading down the hill.
I watched until the long grasses swallowed them up, turning them into two bobbing shadows in the distance.
They had two hours to make it into the market, another hour to wander around and fill their packs—illegally—and then a hike back up the hill.
If they were not back by midday, I would go after them.
Jezebel’s idea of finding an inn for a night was more and more attractive the farther Cyph and Rina went.
My sister had pitched the promise of real mattresses and hot food, a night of solid slumber to refresh ourselves after the tumultuous journey thus far.
But we all knew we could not afford to sacrifice the time.
If we kept moving, we’d get to the tundra sooner.
I had been about to give in to Jez’s persuasion when the pain in my wrist flared, the countdown on my life ticking toward zero. No, we had to keep moving.
Besides, my friends were right—I would be too noticeable in the town.
The citizens of Turren were a mix of Mystique Warriors and the humans we harbored in our lands, like Rina’s family.
I had an inclination that fact alone was enough to make her want to explore the village below. She had but a few hours, though.
I huffed, dropping down in the tall grass and pulling a stretch of rope from my pack to distract me. My fingers traveled along the length of coarse material, tying it and untying it in intricate knots as my father taught me.
Normally, I would have turned to swords to expel this frustrated tension knotting itself behind my ribs, but I didn’t feel up to the fight with how empty my stomach had grown and how weak my Cursed arm was.
Not to mention the lack of sleep I’d had.
The hallucinations kept plaguing my nightmares, waking me during the few hours each night that I’d drifted off on hard forest floors, forgetting the threats awaiting us for a moment.
The Curse was certainly not making my final days any easier. I worked the rope, hoping the repetitive motion of the configurations would spell me into a calm focus.
Tolek scooted across the ground to join me, watching my fingers as I tangled and untangled the same piece of rope.
“I’m surprised you agreed,” he said.
I smacked his arm. “Shut up, Vincienzo.” But it drew a laugh from me as he’d intended.
He wasn’t wrong, though. Allowing Santorina and Cypherion to go without me went against every instinct in my body.
But I was dying, and those instincts—that desperate need to protect everyone—would go with me.
Letting them do this on their own was proving to myself that they’d be okay when I went. Still, I hated it.
“How’s your leg feeling?” I asked him, without looking away from my new task—looping the rope around itself, recreating one of the stronger knots I knew.
“It’s fine,” he said. I narrowed my eyes. I did not believe an injury that deep was fine.
He laughed at my expression, the sound unknotting a bit of the tension within me. “I swear it, Ophelia. It hurts but it’s not unbearable. I am fine.”
My fingers continued to tie and untie as his words sank in.
The image of him hitting the ground, Victious’s blade embedded in his leg, flashed through my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut against it.
Fear coursed through me. I took a deep breath over the pain and let the rough material of the rope slide through my palms.
“You’ll have a horrible scar,” I whispered. The realization hurt me. “Good luck explaining that to your parents when we return.”
Tolek’s chuckle mixed with the breeze, but the sound was much more pleasant than his tone as he said, “They won’t care.”
“Of course, they will,” I responded without looking up.
“No.” He shook his head. “My family doesn’t care what happens to me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I dismissed.
“It’s true. The Vincienzos care about wealth and power more than anything. I’m not the heir.” As firstborn, his sister would be his parents’ heir. The one whose success weighed most heavily for their family’s trajectory.
“That means nothing,” I said, looking from him to where my sister organized our remaining supplies, much quieter than she usually was. Plenty of families had more than one child to carry on their name.
“To them it does. I’m only the reckless secondborn whose birth almost killed his mother.
” He swallowed, but no emotion seeped into his voice.
“They see me as the one always stirring up trouble or hiding away in a book, never doing anything productive toward their reputation. Truly, they probably have not even noticed my absence. I’m sure it’s more peaceful without me. ”
My hands froze. An undercurrent of pain slipped into his words at the end, and that twisted a knife into my heart.
How had I known Tolek for my entire life and never known the way his family viewed him?
I’d grown to depend on him so thoroughly these past two years as he helped me fight my darkness, yet I had no idea of his own ghosts.
The thought of his parents treating him in such a way heated my blood, but I knew him well enough to know he did not want pity. Instead, I tied another knot and asked, “What about your younger siblings? Do your parents treat them as they do you?”
“Those three?” He scoffed at the mention of the triplets born twelve years after us.
I supposed it made sense why his parents had waited to have more children.
“They are viewed as gifts after their blissfully easy births. No, it is only I given the honor of being the family disappointment, but I suppose someone has to set the bar low so others may surpass it.”
I looked at him, taking in the slight downturn of his lips and the way he would not meet my eyes, and reached for his hand.
“Please don’t think of yourself that way.
I don’t care what your parents say—it’s not true.
” Knowing they had planted this idea in his head, their names were quickly added to my list of those I sought revenge against.
“It’s okay, Ophelia,” Tolek whispered. “I’m used to being the least favored.”
I was about to argue when Jezebel sat down next to me. Tolek dropped my hand, and I understood it as his signal that the conversation was over. I went back to my knots. “None of this is okay.” One more swoop of the ends of rope around each other.
“No, nothing has been right for a long time. But it is, and it will be, okay,” Tolek said.
“You know you don’t always need to protect us,” Jezebel added.
There it was—the guilt for their suffering, threatening to overwhelm me despite their words.
“This is my journey—my fault. If anything happens to any of you, I won’t forgive myself.” I tugged the ends of rope as tightly as they would go and held them up for Tolek to see: what appeared to be two separate loops, each feeding into the other, but it was really one string.
He brushed his fingers across it. “Looks great.”
“It’s called an infinity knot,” I mumbled.
Jezebel pushed aside the tall grasses to lean back on her elbows. “We all made the choice to come with you.” All I could see was her bleeding beneath the winged beast.