Chapter 30 #3
“Mistake?” A hot coal of anger sparks in my chest. “It wasn’t a simple mistake.” I stare at him, wide-eyed. “You betrayed me. To my father.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Tristan wince.
Hunter’s face crumples. “I didn’t know, Sienna. How could I have known what he would do?” His voice is pleading, but I’m not ready—or perhaps not willing—to forgive.
“You know my father as well as I do. And you chose him.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“So, you didn’t tell my father that I was searching for information about Grandmother? After he explicitly told me not to?”
“I … yes, but …” Hunter shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that.”
Tristan watches in silence, but I see the tension in his stance. His eyes keep darting toward the burning valley behind us and what remains of the battle.
“No? What was it like then?” I fold my arms. “What was it like to watch him burn every last scrap of Grandmother’s letters.
All of her portraits. All of her books and gowns and gifts.
Everything turned to ash.” My voice cracks.
“Everything, except the knife I hid under my skirts.” A sob claws its way up my throat, but I swallow it down.
Tristan tries to grab my attention. “We really need to leave.”
“I was afraid.” Hunter’s voice is almost pleading now. “I saw you sneaking out at night, alone …”
“When I left you behind, you mean?”
Hunter flinches and I know I’ve hit the bone.
He was jealous that I stopped spending every waking moment with him, that I was preoccupied with something—someone—other than him.
He’s always wanted to have all of my attention, all of my time.
When I left him behind, he just couldn’t bear it.
So, he tried to claw me back to him, any way he could.
The tragic thing is, he knows me better than anyone. I’ve never been the kind of person you can tie down. He should’ve known clinging too hard just pushes me farther away. And he certainly should’ve known better than to use my father against me.
“Please, Sienna. You can’t trust him.” His eyes dart to Tristan.
Tristan steps in, his voice calm but firm. “She knows full well what she’s doing.” He nods toward the trees, his eyes locking on mine.
Hunter wheels around to face him. “I wasn’t talking to you, Wolf!”
Tristan’s nostrils flare “She doesn’t need your permission.”
Hunter pulls back and punches Tristan in the jaw. Even without his gauntlets, the crack if impact is startling. Tristan stumbles back, and falls to the ground, his eyes wide in genuine shock.
“YOU!” Hunter yells. “I never should have helped you. We should have left you there in the cemetery to rot!”
Tristan rises calmly, brushing dust from his breeches. “You can come with us.”
“To Annwyn?” Hunter lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re our enemy, Wolf. Annwyn killed her grandmother!”
I push between them again, holding my ground. “They know what happened to her, Hunter.” I lift my chin, defiant. “This is my choice. I’m not some ignorant girl running away without reason.”
He glares at Tristan, then turns back to me.
“Grandmother,” I say softly, my voice pleading. “She’s the reason I’m going.”
He shakes his head slowly, in disbelief. “You can’t bring her back, Sienna.”
His words hit me harder than a crack to the jaw ever could. “I know that,” I whisper.
Hunter reaches for my hand. His voice is low, gentle. “When will this searching ever end? When will you be able to live your own life again?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, banishing the grief that threatens to consume me, even after all these years.
“Is she truly worth sacrificing your own life for?”
And there it is, the ever-haunting question. I’ve lived my entire life in the shadow of death—Grandmother’s, the borderland soldiers’, even my mother’s. The truth is, I don’t know how to live without them. Without the grief that’s molded to my bones like a second skin. Without the dead, I am alone.
“Please,” he whispers. “Stay.”
Behind his eyes, I see all those years of pain and sadness. Of never truly belonging. We both know the feeling of isolation. Maybe that’s why we ended up here, at the edge of the world. Adrift. Lost.
Hunter’s face crumbles. “Is everything my fault?” he asks, barely audible.
The pain in his voice extinguishes my anger like water sizzling on hot coals. I put one of my filthy hands on his blood-smeared cheek. “Hunter, this isn’t because of you.”
His shoulders sag. “But everything is still in shambles.”
I lean in, pressing my forehead to his. We close our eyes and breathe each other in—the closeness, the intimacy we’ve shared. He will forever be a part of me. I know this as surely as I know my own name.
I stand on tiptoe and kiss him. He winces from the pain, but doesn’t pull away. His tears mix with mine, salty and devastating. When I draw back, he doesn’t stop me. He keeps his eyes closed, as if he can’t bear to watch me go.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the memory of his lips still lingering on mine.
Then I turn and run into the mountain forest, with the sound of heartbreak and carnage at my heels.