Chapter 9 #2
My stomach sank. He was telling me something important—that as much as our friendship mattered to him, Fire House mattered more.
As it probably should, since it was his home and part of his identity.
When we’d both been servants, subject to the whims of our masters and with little influence over Mistei’s politics, house loyalty hadn’t mattered so much.
Now that I was a princess refusing to support his prince… it did.
“I understand,” I told him. “I will not judge you for that loyalty.”
He smiled, though I saw regret in his eyes. “You’re a good friend, Kenna. I hope our causes never come into conflict.”
They would, though. They already were. And my friendship with Aidan—like so many things I cared about—was more fragile than I’d realized.
I hesitated outside Anya’s door. I’d come here after talking to Aidan, wanting to check on her, but now I found myself standing with my fist raised yet unable to knock.
Most relationships had boundaries. Whether it was a small connection or a deeper one, a friend or an acquaintance, there were lines that couldn’t be crossed, topics that couldn’t be broached, limits past which someone would say, No, I don’t want to know you better .
Or No, I don’t want to spend more time on you . Or No, I just don’t care that much.
Growing up, there had only been two people whose love didn’t have boundaries: my mother and Anya.
I’d just discovered the edges of my friendship with Aidan, and my first impulse had been to go to the person who had always accepted me exactly as I was, who had never said no to seeing even the worst parts of me.
Now I kept remembering how her smile had vanished when I’d walked into the kitchen last night.
I took a deep breath and knocked.
There was no response at first. Then an animal-sounding moan came from within. “Please,” came Anya’s broken voice. “No, please.”
Fear swamped me. I shoved the door open, running inside. “Anya?”
She was lying on the floor, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes darted rapidly behind her closed lids, and her mouth opened on a wheezed exhalation. Her face was so wet, it looked like she’d been crying for hours.
“Anya!” I knelt beside her, gripping her arm and gently shaking. “Wake up.”
She lurched awake with a scream, nearly knocking her forehead into mine. She shoved me so hard I fell backwards. “No,” she spat. “No!”
“It’s all right,” I said as I struggled back to my knees. “It’s me. It’s Kenna.”
She looked frantically around the room. “No,” she whimpered. “I was drowning. I know it.”
She smelled like alcohol. There was a purple stain on her sleeping tunic and an empty bottle lying beside her. She’d brought the leftover wine upstairs.
Worry knotted in my stomach. She’d enjoyed a few glasses of wine on occasion in Tumbledown, but I’d never seen her like this. Never bleary-eyed and stinking, looking at me like she wasn’t even seeing me. “You weren’t drowning,” I said. “I promise.”
She pressed a hand against her cheek, then pulled it back to look at the moisture on her fingers. “Not real,” she whispered. Then her face crumpled. “How do I make them stop?”
“The nightmares?”
Her voice grew louder. “How do I make it all stop?”
My nails bit into my palms. “Anya—”
She shook her head. “Go away, Kenna.”
“But I—”
“Go away!” She flung the bottle at the wall. It shattered, sending fragments skittering across the white marble floor, and the last drops of wine splattered around them like blood.
I pressed a hand over my pounding heart. “I can’t leave you like this.”
Her face went cold. “You already did.”
Then she grabbed her pillow and curled up again, facing away from me.
Grief howled through me. I struggled to breathe past the feeling crushing my ribs. My fingers and toes were numb as I staggered to my feet, and I could hardly see past the tears that threatened to fall. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
She didn’t reply.
I cried all the way down to the kitchen, where I found Triana sorting spice jars that hadn’t existed the night before. She looked haggard after the late night, but her eyes widened at the sight of me. “What is it?” she signed.
I sobbed, pressing a hand to my mouth. “Anya. She had a nightmare, and…and she didn’t want me there.”
A look of mingled pain and understanding came across Triana’s face. She placed a hand on my shoulder, giving me a little shake before signing, “It isn’t your fault.”
Wasn’t it, though? I hadn’t taken care of Anya in the bog. I’d run ahead, trusting that she would follow, and she’d been stolen by Osric’s minions because of it. “She hates me now,” I whispered.
Triana shook her head. “Not you. She hates everything.”
Wasn’t I part of everything? I ran my shaking hands down my face, feeling the wetness of tears. It was nowhere near what I’d seen glistening on Anya’s cheeks and soaking her shirt. “What do I do?”
“Listen. Wait. Be there.”
“And if she doesn’t want me there?”
“Send someone else instead.” Triana narrowed her eyes at the cabinet, then opened the door and retrieved a steaming mug of lemon-and-honey-scented tea.
Maude didn’t want to use the house magic, but Triana was apparently learning.
She set it down to sign the next words to me.
“I have nightmares like that, too. Send me.”
I nodded, feeling a curl of gratitude in the midst of the crushing despair. “Thank you.”
Triana picked up the mug again, smiled sadly at me, then hurried away.
I went to the sink and splashed my face with cold water. It reminded me of the lake swirling around me, and I hurriedly shut the tap off. Then I pressed my hands to my face and let out a muffled scream.
How was I supposed to manage any of this? How was I supposed to fix Mistei when I couldn’t even help my best friend?
I heard the tap tap tap of heeled slippers and turned to see Lara blow into the kitchen, a scowl on her face. She was wearing silver today, with hints of red velvet visible through slashes in the sleeves. She planted her hands on her hips. “What is this I hear about you going to Earth House?”
I groaned. “Lara—”
“Because I went for a walk and overheard two servants talking, and they said you went into the water tunnel.” She looked incensed. “Why would you do that?”
I felt empty and aching and broken. “Because Oriana didn’t go to the council meeting, and I was angry with her.” Because I was too much of a coward to make the decision of who should be king.
“So you decided to try to kill yourself?” Her voice hit a dangerous pitch.
“I didn’t,” I protested. “An Illusion faerie made me trip. And Oriana saved me.”
Her nostrils flared. “You spoke with her.”
“I did.” My shoulders tensed, bracing for the force of her displeasure.
Her eyes seemed like dark pools. “You didn’t tell me.”
Shame swept through me. “No, I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
I looked down, scuffing the toe of my black boot against the floor. “I thought you would be hurt.”
“Hurt that you went there to begin with? Or that she still wants nothing to do with me?”
I looked up swiftly. “How did you—”
Lara let out a haunted-sounding laugh, then shook her head. “You’re predictable, Kenna. Of course you tried to change her mind. You still don’t understand how the Fae think.”
“I had to try.”
“I know.” The creases beside Lara’s mouth deepened with her frown. “I am hurt.”
My stomach sank. “Because I tried to change her mind?”
Her voice grew bitter. “Being cast out is humiliating enough without everyone thinking I begged to be taken back.”
Perception was everything to the Fae. More important than loyalty, more important than love. Lara had always hated being seen as weak. “The conversation was private,” I reassured her, wishing I could sink into the floor.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m more upset about something else.”
My eyes prickled. Lara and Anya were all I had. The only spots of love left in my life, and I’d failed them both. “What?” I whispered.
“That you didn’t tell me someone tried to hurt you.”
The breath left me. That hadn’t been what I was expecting to hear.
When I didn’t reply, she strode forward to place a hand on my shoulder. Anger still simmered in her eyes, but her expression had softened. “Do you think this friendship only goes one way? You nearly died, and you didn’t even tell me.”
A tear broke loose, and I dashed it away. “I didn’t want you to know I failed with Oriana.”
“I don’t care that you failed with her,” she said fiercely. “I care that you nearly drowned. I care that someone tried to kill you. That’s why I’m angry.”
My throat felt thick. “I survived, though.”
She rolled her eyes in a more typical Lara expression. “Obviously. I still want to hear about things like that.”
I had knelt beside Anya a short while ago, wanting to save her from the demons that haunted her sleep. I’d asked Triana how to be there for someone who didn’t want the help.
I hadn’t realized Lara might feel the same about me.
“All right,” I whispered. “I’ll tell you.”
She wasn’t done lecturing me. “You have all the power now, but that doesn’t mean you have to shoulder the burden or the consequences of it alone.” She shook her head. “I’ve been useless for far too long, nothing but a decorative coward. Let me become something better.”
I clutched her hands in mine. “You don’t need to change a thing.”
“You’ve at least learned to lie like a faerie.” She sighed. “No, I know who I am, Kenna. I also know who I want to be. So let me be that. Let me help you.”
Grief and gratitude mingled. Most relationships had limits, so I’d assumed this one did, too. And maybe it still did, but I’d also drawn this particular boundary where it didn’t exist.
“All right,” I said. “I promise.”