Buried Resentment
Chapter twenty-five
Resentment had become familiar to Finn. The feeling used to be quite foreign, a place he only visited occasionally in his darker moments.
But as of late, he’d made a home in it. Set up camp, slept in its abysmal depths, woke up to a sky colored in streaks of jealousy and bitterness.
He hated himself for it but could not bring himself to leave it behind.
Even now, he should be cherishing his last moments with his family before leaving for Grimhaven, but instead he was wishing his wife and her family were not present.
It was not as though Lucianna wished to be there.
So why should Finn have to sit across from her and see the thinly veiled judgment in her hazel gaze?
Why should he have to make her father laugh, to set her brother at ease?
Anger built steadily within his chest, rising like smoke from the Luster District.
“I feel as though I’m sitting next to a furnace,” Wren murmured next to him. “Are you all right?”
Finnick released a tight breath. He’d forgotten that whatever he felt, he’d be subjecting Wren to.
She had learned to manage the sensation of being in a room filled with varying emotions over the last few years, but as she was sitting right next to him, it would be impossible to avoid sensing his frustration.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he watched Marina and Lucianna converse across the table.
It was less of a conversation and more of Lucianna listening to Marina ramble about anything and everything under the sun.
The girl was curious, and her family indulged that curiosity often.
Being the youngest in the family and losing her mother at the age she did made her quite spoiled.
Marina, perhaps, was the only person he didn’t have bitterness toward in the room this evening.
He heaped affection on her as much as anyone else.
She deserved to feel loved and be sheltered from the cruelty of the world as long as possible.
“You know better than to apologize for having emotions,” Wren scolded. “It’s not your fault that I can feel them. I was merely inquiring over your well-being, not censoring you.”
Castien looked over from the other side of Wren with curiosity in his dark eyes. He said nothing, but Finn knew he was asking the same question Wren was.
“If I tell you I am fine, you will think me a liar. If I speak the truth, it helps no one. So please, just let me be.” He tried to maintain a gentle tone, which was difficult given the maelstrom of emotion occupying his chest.
Castien sat back in his chair without a word. Wren patted Finn’s forearm and also maintained silence. Finn grabbed his now-lukewarm teacup. He’d made it to the dessert course. Soon enough, he could leave and go back to his safe haven for a few more hours before they departed.
“Have you seen all the gardens?” Marina asked Lucianna.
Finn watched the cinnamon stick float on the surface of his tea. He didn’t look at anyone, especially not his father, who was no doubt wondering why he wasn’t entertaining everyone at the table.
“I am not sure,” Lucianna answered. “During my tour, I was taken through the Formal Garden. I saw roses and peonies—”
“Those are Wren’s favorite! The peonies, I mean. I prefer irises, but peonies are my second favorite,” Marina interrupted.
Finn glanced up and saw his sister smiling brightly at Wren, who returned the expression with much warmth.
“There was a garden I saw during my own exploration, as well, but I do not know if it has a name,” Lucianna said. “It is near the drawing room, I think?”
Finn’s entire body went taut. In his peripheral vision he saw Wren glance at him, but he stared ahead at the yellow roses in the centerpiece, meeting no one’s gaze.
“Oh,” Marina said softly. “Those are the ceremonial gardens. A burial ground for those who are beloved.”
The table must have caught onto the conversation, for everyone descended into an uncomfortable silence.
“They were beautiful,” Lucianna replied in a tone far gentler than she ever used with him.
Finn’s fingers twitched, knocking into his teacup and rattling it. He curled them into a fist.
“It is getting quite late, and I know our travelers have much to prepare.” Aunt Alora broke the silence from the head of the table. “Perhaps it is time to say our goodbyes and retire.”
Everyone began to stand and push out their chairs.
“It’s not that late,” Marina protested.
Aunt Alora gave her a look of censure.
“Say your goodbyes,” she commanded.
Marina’s countenance fell. Finn mustered up a smile for her.
“Now don’t look so dejected, moonbeam, or I won’t bring you back a gift,” he teased, though his voice was too tired to sound entirely genuine.
Marina’s gaze lit, and she rushed around the table to catapult into Finn’s arms. He wrapped her up and squeezed her tight. Her feet lifted off the floor as she hung in his arms.
“I’m going to miss you,” she murmured. Finn heard the grief in her voice.
“I will miss you too, but remember what I said last time I left?”
“Look to the moon, for it is always ours to share.”
He smiled even as tears burned his eyes.
“That’s right. And I’ll be back much faster than the previous time. Before Eventide is over,” he promised, and hoped he’d be able to keep it.
The Heartless Tides were unpredictable, and Grimhaven had danger lurking around every corner. There was a chance he wouldn’t make it back, but Marina had no notion of that. She thought they were visiting Stonemouth to establish an alliance in case of war.
“Tell Kierana I said hello,” Marina said as he set her down. She swiped away a stray tear.
Kierana was a friend of Finn’s from the academy and also the daughter of the leader of the Tove clan. That made her a princess of sorts, though Stonemouth did not have such titles in their hierarchical system.
“Of course. No doubt she will send me back with another dagger that you are too young to use.”
Marina giggled. “I am thirteen! You had wielded many blades by my age, and Kierana said last time she was here that she got her first dagger at six.”
Finn smiled down at his exuberant sister.
“Yes, well, Kierana is a warrior princess. You are not.”
“I could be,” she countered with a mischievous smile. “Whether you believe you can or you can’t, you’re right.”
Finn’s smile tightened. The phrase was their mother’s favorite. On a typical day, it would not hurt him so. Tonight, he found himself struggling to breathe.
“You are right. Perhaps when I return we can begin your training. For now, stay out of trouble. Mind your governess and Aunt Alora.” He tugged her to him for another hug.
“You usually say to get into trouble,” Marina said with suspicion in her voice.
Finn chuckled. “That is when I’m here to get you out of it,” he reminded her. “Since I’m not, be good.”
She sighed but nodded. A hand landed on Finn’s shoulder.
“Son,” his father intoned.
Finn turned around and accepted the brief embrace from the man who raised him. Then he met his brown eyes. There was a softness to them that Finn recognized as love. He’d learned to decipher the commander’s emotions over the years, since the man did not voice it openly.
“Do your kingdom proud.”
Finn dipped his chin and replied, “Yes, Father.”
That was all. His father stepped away and allowed Finn to hug his aunt and uncle.
He accepted their well wishes, then hugged Marina again and left.
Wren and Cas lingered behind, and Finn noticed that sometime during his farewells he had missed his wife and her family’s departure.
That was just as well. He didn’t wish for the Morrowes to see him vulnerable.
Finn walked down the dark castle halls with his hands in his pockets. Numbness crawled under his skin and coated his limbs and lungs. His shoulders drooped. There was no one around to see him any longer. No one to perform for. He could simply be, for whatever that was worth.
“He has not ensorcelled you?”
Finn halted as he heard Damon’s voice echo through the next hall. The lord must have escorted his sister to her chambers.
“No,” Lucianna hissed. “And keep your voice down, lest someone hear you.”
Finn did not turn the corner; instead, he hovered near it and listened.
“You told me to question you, so that is what I am doing,” Damon replied. “I will not be able to again until you return.”
“And I thank you for that, but as I said, I am out of reach of his charm. I find myself more vexed at him than anything.”
The air felt thinner as Finn realized they were talking about him.
Lucianna had directed her brother to question her.
To make sure she was in her right mind. She truly was afraid of his Gift, more than he even thought.
Pain shot past the numbness he had been swimming in. Finn took a step back, eyes stinging.
He couldn’t bear to hear more, so he turned on his heel and left. Ran for the one place he knew he’d feel safe.
The scent of blooms was heavy in the evening air.
Finn stumbled to his mother’s grave and fell to his knees.
He stared at the blanket of flowers atop her grave.
Then a bouquet of fresh yellow daisies caught his eye.
A gift from Wren, whose home island grieved in the color yellow. Finn hung his head.
And then he wept.