23. Ava
AVA
Ava recoiled when she saw the look of betrayal in Jerrid’s eyes. Tears stung behind her eyelids as she searched for words to explain, but what could she possibly tell him?
If she had indeed inherited the family curse, then she was the monster he thought she was. And she wasn’t just going to get him killed…she would be responsible for killing him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Truly, I didn’t.”
He turned his face away and stared into the bonfire, his expression empty. It was as if she hadn’t just stolen his energy but also his will to live. His will to fight. Was that the truly wicked thing about her family’s curse? That it stole hope?
Because she’d certainly taken that and more from Jerrid.
You didn’t do it on purpose.
So, Dragon was back, was he? She’d felt him slip away and knew he’d been in Jerrid’s mind, trying to console him, trying to explain. His thoughts had become so entangled with hers, she didn’t have to ask. She just knew what he was doing.
“We need to figure out a way to stop it,” Ava said, ignoring the dragon. “We need to break the tie between us.”
Jerrid snorted but didn’t look away from the fire.
“You mean, all the ties, right? Because you’ve got us tangled up in more than one.
There’s that blood promise you did, and then Dragon head-hopping around like he’s at the market, and now this family curse of yours.
How exactly do you intend to sever all that? ”
Her mouth went dry. She’d forgotten about the blood oath. That’s what had started all of this.
“And then there’s the shadow in my head too. Why don’t you all just divvy me up and take what you want?”
Ava’s spine stiffened. “The shadow is in all of our heads, not just yours.”
“Maybe, but I’m the weakest link. And predators always go for the weakest one in the pack.”
“That isn’t true…”
Jerrid shifted to frown at her, his expression guarded. “Isn’t it?”
“This is all my fault,” she blurted. “I was just trying to help, but I only made things worse.”
Like always.
She hunched her shoulders and stared down at her lap, wishing she could make herself smaller, so small she would just disappear.
Maybe everyone would be better off if she just left, if she never returned to Eroth to continue making things worse under the guise of helping. But what about her brother? He’d already lost their parents. She wasn’t sure he could survive losing her, too.
And oh, how she would miss her gardens and the cats…
Hands settled on her shoulders. Ava didn’t look up, unable to face him. Rough fingers caught her chin and tilted it upward.
“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. Dragon was my problem long before he became yours.”
And that right there is the problem, Dragon grumbled wearily. I’m not a problem.
“Yes, you are,” Jerrid muttered to the side, and Ava realized that somehow Dragon had spoken to both of them at once. “You’ve always been the problem.”
“No.” Ava peered into Jerrid’s dark face, searching for something she could work with, something she could use to convince him.
“Dragon isn’t the problem. The friction between you is the problem.
You saw what I could do when I worked with him, when I allowed him to work through me. If you would just accept him—”
“And let him run amok to ruin my life and everyone else’s?” Jerrid jerked away from her, his hands falling away.
“He wouldn’t be running amok if you make this right.”
He shook his head, avoiding her gaze.
“Jerrid,” Ava began, leaning up on her knees so that she could get closer to him.
“Dragon is a part of you, and you need to embrace that. You’ve broken yourself, and him.
And you need to put yourself back together, or none of us stand a chance.
I can’t fix this without you. And we can’t fix it without him. We need him.”
She dared to rest her hands on his knees, trying to get him to look at her, to see her. To see her intentions, her desire to make this right, to fix what they had both broken so badly…
You didn’t break this, Dragon said wearily. We broke it long ago.
He shifted and looked at her then, his eyes pooled in haunted shadows. While looking at him, in all his brokenness, something inside her broke too. Because she wanted to fix him, but she couldn’t. They would never stand a chance unless he fixed himself.
Unless she fixed herself.
“I’m just as broken as you are,” she whispered, gripping his knees. “I’ve never been satisfied with who I was or what I could do. I was always trying to be more, to measure up, comparing myself to everyone else. I’ve made mistakes, so many mistakes. But do you know what Dragon taught me?”
His eyes searched hers, and the need in those eyes threatened to choke her.
“He taught me,” she managed around the sob caught in the back of her throat, “that none of that matters. That I can do more than I know when I stop trying so hard. When I just let myself live in the moment.”
You’re beautiful. And wonderful.
Jerrid swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the motion. He lifted one hand and cupped it around her cheek, his thumb brushing gently.
“You are, you know,” he murmured, moisture gathering in his eyes. “Beautiful and wonderful.”
Her breath hitched, years of longing threatening to drown her. For so long, she had wanted someone to see her, to look at her the way Jerrid was right now. To love her in spite of her weakness…or maybe because of it.
His hand trailed down to rest in the curve of her shoulder. “But I don’t know how to live in the moment, Ava.”
The vulnerability in his expression hardened into resignation, and the glimmer of hope stirring in her breast shriveled and died before it had even been given a chance to come to life.
“I only know how to survive,” he continued, his fingers curling around her shoulder blade. “That’s all any of us can do. Survive.”
“But that’s no way to live,” she argued, a tear trickling from the edge of her cheek. “If you only ever survive, you’ll always be where you are now. Broken. Scraping in the dirt for every morsel. Fighting day and night just to make it through one more day—”
She broke off, unable to continue, but she had just described herself. That’s how she had been living her life since her parents died—her and Peregrin—scraping and begging for a reason to continue when their entire world had gone up in flames.
How did you keep fighting when there was no reason to fight anymore?
“You know I’m right,” he whispered. “I can see it in your face. You know I’m right.”
She shook her head. “No. These things happen, Jerrid. These twists of fate that set us down dark paths. But we have a choice in how we will walk those paths. We have a choice whether we will let them beat us down, grind us into the dirt. Whether we will live in the shadow of what we can’t control or whether we will make more of our lives. Change our fate by just…accepting it.”
He seemed to be holding his breath, his body impossibly still. Even Dragon didn’t make a peep. It was as if time had stopped.
“But that doesn’t change anything, does it?” A wry, broken smile twisted his mouth as he slid his hand over the curve of her shoulder, down her arm, and then away.
A chill crept over her skin, erasing the heat that had broken across her arm at his touch. Now she felt cold and bereft.
“We can accept it, but we’ll still be broken,” he said. “We’re still going to die.”
“No, we’re not,” she ground out as she sank back down on her heels. “I have a plan. I can fix this. We can fix this.”
“And how,” he asked with a sad, almost mocking smile, “do you plan to fix all of this, Meat Pasty?”
For the first time, she saw the nickname as the endearment it was meant to be, and it broke something inside her even more.
Because she realized for the first time what they stood to lose—this thing between them they hadn’t even begun yet.
If they couldn’t survive this night, then they would never know what tomorrow could bring.
What this might mean.
“We’re going to use Talos,” she blurted.
It was now or never.
Jerrid pulled back even farther. “Use Talos? As bait?”
She shook her head. “No, we’re going to use him as a conduit for the magic and use him to defeat the shadow.”
“Ava, that will never work.” Jerrid barked an incredulous laugh, running his hand over his face. “He’ll never help us.”
“He will if we promise to set him free when we’re done. My magic isn’t strong enough to kill this thing…but Talos has powerful magic, and if I feed him our energy…it will make him strong enough to defeat the shadow.”
Jerrid’s lips parted, but for a moment he seemed at a loss for words. “Your solution to our problem is to give Talos more magic? Make him more powerful? He nearly killed us last time, and we barely contained him even with all of us working together. This will never work, Ava.”
“It has to work,” she argued angrily, “because it’s the only idea I have!”
He’s right, you know. It’s a really bad idea.
“Talos believes in one thing,” Ava persisted. “Self-preservation. If we prove to him this is the only way he survives, he’ll help us.”
Jerrid and Dragon snorted as one. “We’re not doing that. Niflheim will freeze over before I agree to this plan.”
Agreed.
Ava ground her teeth together. For the first time in their lives, Jerrid and Dragon finally agreed about something…but why did it have to be about disagreeing with her?
“Unless you can think of some way to defeat a monster of immense magical ability, we don’t have any other options right now.” She crossed her arms over chest and glared at Jerrid, hoping Dragon knew that look was for him too.
I am feeling glared at, if it makes you feel better.
“It doesn’t. We need a plan, and neither of you is helping.”
Jerrid rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “We’re helping you not get killed.”
“What about everyone else? We brought this thing upon them. Well, technically Prince Haryk and Persis brought it upon them…”
What are you scheming now?