Chapter Twenty-Three #3
A breath escapes me; I step forward, but Orrin places a swift warning hand on my shoulder.
I meet his eyes, understanding. Steadying my heart, I inhale and stay where I stand, just in front of Mr. Brown, who is waiting in the hall, stationed still as a statue.
I, on the other hand, tremble. Seeing Aven, like this, so close, and without Elisavet hovering in the shadows.
If only I could reach her, her memory, her heart.
Remind her of our love for each other. All the years of laughter, of joy.
The way she took care of Sélie and me for so long.
Tell her all the things, all the memories, all the details.
That she hates peas. That her favorite color is blue.
Her favorite flower a daisy. That she hums while she’s hemming.
That she can’t dance at all—but doesn’t care a fig—and even if she’s clumsy in her attempts, her face lights up when she moves so that nobody even notices she’s off-beat.
Her smile could save lives. She loved her husband fiercely.
She loved their baby. I would tell her that she was the glue that kept our family together.
Even when our parents died. Even when our guardians left us.
Hated us. Thought we were burdens. That she protected us.
Always wanted us to be safe. Happy. Loved.
That she was—is—the most wonderful sister, the greatest friend. That I wish—
“What can I do for you?” Orrin jolts me from my thoughts, asking her, smoothly, “You have a message from her highness?”
Aven nods stiffly. “She’s decided to have another grand party, on the full moon next. She is far too busy so sent me to offer her invitation.”
I just stare at her. There is nothing of Aven here, not in manner, not in speech, not in appearance.
Where is the one who dug splinters from my skin?
Who scolded me for spilling beetroot powder?
Who wore a daisy crown for her wedding, cried to God that she was the happiest woman in the world?
Her soul—her life force—is gone. Extinguished.
And the strength and purity of it is what gives Elisavet her power. As if she needed any more.
“Sounds wonderful. I’ll be there,” Orrin tells my sister.
“You’re to bring your pet too.” Aven doesn’t even look at me when she says it.
With a benign smile, he says, “Of course.”
When Aven sweeps from the room, I follow her, consequences and Orrin’s advice be damned. I run after her to the foyer.
“Wait,” I call, breathless, just as Aven reaches for the doorknob.
She turns, tightens her mouth. “What?”
I swallow, sense Orrin approaching, know what I’m doing is unwise, perhaps, but I can’t help it. “Aven, it’s me. Corliss. Don’t you remember? Don’t you—”
“I remember you,” she interrupts, coolly.
I stare at her in shock. There is nothing there. Nothing.
Then she gives a half-shrug to me, to Orrin, who has come up behind me. She steps outside the door, and with it still hanging open, in a whoosh of magic, is swallowed by the night.
My sister is gone. There is nothing of her left.
“Come on,” Orrin says in a gentle voice. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Nodding, I bite back the tears. All the way back to his bedroom, I keep thinking of Aven’s cold eyes, the way she looked at me. Like I was nothing. I know Orrin warned me of this—told me her humanity would probably be gone. That she wouldn’t care at all. But it still hurts.
Once we’re back in his room, Orrin holds me again, nestling us into the bed.
“I’m sorry. I never should have said anything to her. Do you think Elisavet knows she’s my sister?” I finally manage to ask. “And that’s why she sent her here?”
“I don’t think Aven cares enough to tell her,” he answers carefully, like he’s trying not to hurt me.
It does sting to hear him say it, but I nod.
The fact she doesn’t care for me at all makes me think she wouldn’t even think to bother mentioning it to her queen.
He goes on, reassuring me, “Elisavet always has others run her little errands. I’m not that concerned, so try not to worry.
It won’t be long now, and it will be over. ”
“What if we do it before the party?” I ask. “I hate the idea of waiting, and won’t it be safer for you if she’s alone?”
“She’s never alone,” he says grimly. “Which I was reminded of the other night. And I think the more people there, the less guarded she is, actually. Only a fool would dare to attempt to harm her in that sort of situation. It will catch her off guard because she’d never expect me to be a fool.”
“And she won’t expect you to harm her,” I add.
“Right. Only I won’t attempt to. I will. Please, don’t fret. I swear to you, I’ll be careful. And I’ll do everything in my power to make certain Aven is safe and returned to you, whole.”
I bury my face into him, closing my eyes. Soon, one way or another, this torment will be over. Though there’ve been things beyond torment, of course. There’s been us, whatever it is we’ve shared. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose him.
I want you to return to me too.
I tug him down, pull his lips to mine.
He responds by gripping me to him, as though he can’t stand to let me go. I don’t say it aloud, but I feel the same.