Chapter 45 #2
My lower lip wobbles, so I tuck it between my teeth. “I love that ...”
A soft nod.
“I d-dreamt our baby has his eyes,” she whispers, each word landing a chisel to my chest.
I wonder if she knows. How much of her is painfully aware of what she’s lost.
“A little girl ...” her gaze shifts, landing somewhere faraway as her chest rattles with another inhale. “But we’ll see.”
My next breath slices me up, poisoning me with the residue of her scarcely veiled pain.
I hope she’s seeing that dream. That she’s blissfully unaware of how shredded that part of her body is. That she believes she’s holding her mother’s comforting hands, and not those of a stranger.
A cough has her buckling in my lap, perfuming the air with more of that putrid smell.
I hold her tighter.
“You’ll see,” I lie, blooming a smile so hollow it hurts. “You’ll see her soon.”
Mishka’s lips part, but then her body jerks and—
Something warm leaks onto my thighs as her eyes widen, then gutter, and I hear the stark hiss of a withdrawing blade.
My heart stumbles a beat.
I don’t want to look, but my eyes drift of their own accord, halting on the spill of blood pushing through a clean slice on the left side of her chest ...
“You—” I sever my sight of the wound that’s scoring me in a way that feels permanent. “ You just— ”
Rhordyn wipes his dagger on the grass. “Stopped her suffering,” he spits, as if the words were spikes in his tongue.
Our stares collide, and though he doesn’t reply, his cold, detached eyes say everything.
Not the first ...
Probably not the last.
My throat clogs, every breath feeling like a step in a ladder I don’t want to ascend.
This is what I’ve been hiding from; what Rhordyn’s been facing whenever he leaves the castle grounds.
No wonder he sits on that throne wearing dead eyes.
Another fork of lightning splits apart the shrieking silence, and the sky loosens its load, dropping a curtain of water between Rhordyn and I.
Neither of us blink.
He’s watching me, his scrutiny as heavy as my heart. But there’s something more there—like he’s reading every sharp breath, seeing past the skin he’s forced me to wear.
He’s checking for cracks, but I have none. All I have is blood on my hands and a honed resolve.
I have to go.
“Kavan, do you know where to find the morgue?” Rhordyn asks, voice monotone, stare unwavering.
I hear my guard step forward. “Yes, High Master. We’ve had a thorough tour of your castle ... more than once.”
I can’t help but feel that’s aimed at me.
“Take Mishka’s body and have her wrapped. Retrieve her cupla. Since her promised is from the Bahari capital, it’s now your responsibility to return it to him.”
My throat clogs.
Her promised ...
“Vanth, you’ll send a priority sprite so the man has prior warning.”
There’s a long pause, then, “And what about Orla—”
Whatever question Vanth had dies on his tongue the moment Rhordyn turns his head, glancing over his shoulder at the man.
Vanth drops his head in a servile gesture. “Of course, High Master.”
I swallow as Mishka’s body is lifted, leaving nothing but a bloody, putrid stamp I can smell and feel, but can’t bring myself to look at.
Cainon was right. I dug my roots in—hid from a hurting world just as wounded as I am. Rhordyn may have slipped a mask over my face, but I was the one who chose to blind myself to the carnage.
Every second I spend here is another life lost. One more dream that’ll never manifest ...
I have to go. Now.
“Baze,” Rhordyn bites out, gaze narrowed on me again. “Make sure they find their way.”
“Sir.”
More retreating steps, until all that’s left are me and Rhordyn, a felled horse, and this frigid tension I want to shatter.
“This is not your weight to bear, Orlaith.”
“You’ve lost the right to dictate what’s important to me. You’re not my High Master anymore.”
His eyes flash luminescent. “You have no idea how wrong that statement is, Milaje. And fleeing Ocruth is not going to soothe the guilt you nourish simply because you survived. ”
The allegation is slung at my soul, and I flinch—spine stiffening, fingers curling.
“Get out,” I snarl.
Get out of my head.
Rhordyn’s upper lip peels back. “ Never. ”
The word is volleyed at me like a threat ...
By the way he’s posturing himself, I get the haunting sense that stepping onto that boat bobbing by the jetty is going to be a much bigger hurdle than I initially anticipated.
I should have left yesterday ...
Shit.
Perhaps I can still get to it. As long as my feet are touching that Bahari-bourne deck, Rhordyn can’t remove me without inciting some sort of war.
He’s overbearing, but he’s not stupid.
My pulse sounds like a war drum as I lift my chin, pushing my shoulders back. “I’ll be leaving now.”
“And what about your guards?” he asks, deadly calm. “You’re just going to sail off and leave them here?”
“They can hitch a ride on a trade ship.”
No love lost there.
“They’re your people now, Milaje. Your responsibility.” His gaze darts down to my cupla, back up. “You’re their future High Mistress, are you not?”
Asshole.
I leap to my feet and run.