24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
I shut myself in my room for days. No one but Tiffy comes in, and she’s the only one that comes out.
I eat. I sleep. I draw.
I’ve drawn so much that every free space in my bedchamber is filled with pages from my sketchbook.
All the drawings are the same.
High cheekbones, loose black hair, that serious expression…
My bedchamber is filled with images of Viridian.
I should be thinking of Loren. Part of me will always love him, deep down. But my mind only forms one image. One face.
And my hands, as if controlled by some outside force, sketch it onto paper.
Though no matter how much I wish it could be otherwise, Viridian and I come from different worlds. We belong to different walks of life.
There is no future for us. No way around the inevitable heartbreak.
Even if we do marry.
Loren’s mere presence has made that abundantly clear. Seeing him in that prison cell again resurfaced everything I’d first thought about Viridian when I arrived.
That noble fae and humans are too different. That I could never move past what Viridian’s done. That in his gilded world, he could ever understand mine.
I sit at my vanity table, bent over another half-finished sketch.
Pushing my sketchbook away, I look at myself in the mirror. My auburn waves hang loose in a tangled mess. There are dark circles under my eyes, which don’t surprise me. I haven’t slept well—plagued by more dreams of Death and bodies in shallow graves.
Not that I know what the dreams mean.
But the words spoken by Death are the same each time.
“When the time comes, you must choose. Choose life, without love, in a cursed land. Or choose death in the name of love and sacred sacrifice. ”
Choose love? I let out a bitter laugh. What love do I have left?
If we ever leave this place, I know Loren will welcome me back with open arms. But now, I’m not so sure that I will ever love him the way I once did.
And Viridian…
He hasn’t made any attempt to see me. Hasn’t sent any messages. Hasn’t asked me to dine with him.
Nothing.
Perhaps he’s turned his back on me. Perhaps he remembers why he didn’t want me. Why would he marry a human, when there are so many eligible noble fae females who would make for a much better partner than me? And someday, a much better High Queen?
I hold my face in my hands, uncomfortably digging my elbows into my vanity table.
A gentle knock sounds at my door.
“Tiffy?” I ask, lifting my head. “Is that you?”
“No,” Lymseia says, opening the door slightly so I can see her. “May I come in?”
I wipe my face and straighten my back. “Yes.”
Lymseia slips into the room. She dons her usual fighting leathers, her blue-black hair pulled into a long braid that falls down her back. It’s strange to see her without her steel short swords hanging from her hips.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply weakly .
Lymseia sits across from me, on the edge of my bed. “I was going to ask if you were all right, but honestly, you look terrible.”
I manage to chuckle. But even that sounds like a shell of what it should be. “Thank you for reminding me.”
Lymseia’s mouth perks up. “Don’t mention it.”
I hold my hands in my lap and look down at them. “I doubt you’re here to tell me I look terrible.”
“No.” Her tone softens. “We’re worried about you, Cryssa. Viridian is worried about you.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” I ask, looking up at her. My voice sharpens like knives, but I can feel tears welling in my eyes. “Why hasn’t he reached out?” A more gut-wrenching thought pops into my mind. “Does he… Does he not want to see me anymore?”
To see him so cold again…
It was as if all the progress we’d made was for nothing.
“I can’t speak for him,” Lymseia starts, “but I think he’s afraid.”
“Afraid?” I echo. My mouth curls. “Afraid of what?”
Lymseia just looks at me for a moment before answering. “Of rejection.”
I inhale and rub my forehead.
“But I’m not here to talk about him. Myrdin’s taking care of that.” She scoots forward and takes both of my hands. “I’m here for you , as your friend. How are you, really? ”
“I feel terrible,” I admit. Whatever was keeping me from falling apart crumbles. The floodgates are open, and I have no way to close them. Nor do I want to. “I’m so torn. Torn between my old life and my new one. Between what I should want and what I do want.”
“What you ‘should’ want?” Lymseia cocks her head.
“Yes,” I tell her. “I know I should want to be with Loren, to go home, to go back to being the old Cryssa. The girl that bartered for eggs at the market. The girl that did chores, the girl that wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. The girl that didn’t know how to dance.”
My words hang between us.
“First, enough of this ‘should’ business,” Lymseia says and breaks the silence, waving me off. “When you use that word, you’re telling yourself that you’ve failed. You ‘should’ this, you ‘should’ that.” She shakes her head a little as she speaks. “All you’re doing is beating yourself down for what you’re not.”
My chest tightens, deep with guilt and resistance.
But at its core, fear.
“And second, whether you like it or not, you have changed,” Lymseia continues, her tone warm, though firm. “But change is all right, Cryssa. Everyone changes and evolves as we go through life. It’s all right to be someone new. But make no mistake—the ‘old’ Cryssa is still in there,” she says, pointing a finger to my chest. “You haven’t lost her, because she is you. Only, you’re so much stronger now than you were before. You’ve learned to love unconditionally. To overcome your differences. To open up your mind to all the good you’d never let yourself imagine before.”
She smiles. “And I think that’s a very good thing. Something that will make you the High Queen you were always meant to be.”
I consider her words for what feels like ages. Digesting them.
“You’re right,” I tell her at last.
Though, some part of me is still afraid to let go. Afraid to lower my shields.
Afraid that I’ll bare my heart, only for it to be broken.
I remember something my father told me when I was young. I’d gotten stung by a bee while out picking wildflowers with Acantha one summer. After that, I was afraid to return to the meadow, even though it was my favorite place in the whole world. I remember wanting to stay at home while she and Father went, afraid the tiny creatures would hurt me again.
“Bravery doesn’t mean the absence of fear, my darling,” Father had said. “Bravery is when you still choose to continue anyway, even though you’re afraid.”
I take a deep breath.
I’ll be brave, Father.
I won’t let my fear hold me back.
V iridian is in the main library, pulling books from the shelves, when I come in.
He doesn’t turn around immediately, instead taking a breath before setting his books down on a nearby table. Slowly, he turns to face me.
Dark circles hang under his eyes, and his expression looks worn. His shoulders slump with fatigue, and the luster in his eyes is dim.
I close the distance between us, steadily approaching him.
“Hello,” I say softly.
Viridian’s tone matches mine. “Hello.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “For disappearing like that.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that, Cryssa,” he tells me solemnly.
“I just—I heard you were worried about me.”
“I’ll always worry about you.”
I find his eyes. “I pushed you away.”
“I know.” He holds my gaze.
I search his expression. There’s something else there, something he doesn’t say.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he tells me, his voice monotone. “I’m glad that you’re all right.”
“There’s something else,” I insist. “Tell me.”
“No, there isn’t.” Viridian turns from me and picks up his books.
“Viridian,” I protest. “You can talk to me.”
“I’m fine, Cryssa.” He clutches the books to his chest. “Really.”
But I don’t believe him.
Then he walks away from me, books in hand, and leaves.
He leaves.
I know there’s something wrong. Something he’s not telling me.
He’s retreated behind his walls again. He’s shutting me out.
I press my lips into a fine line and wrap my arms around myself. Still staring in the direction he went, there is only one question running through my mind.
Why is he running away?