Chapter 28.5 The Farewell
Three days later, my stomach churns as we prepare to depart the Trove.
I haven't reached any conclusions, made any decisions yet.
But I've let Cherry's need and wants propel me in her chosen direction.
It was easier, back before I realized I was doing it.
Before Marton made me realize it.
Now on a rocky ledge near the base of the Trove, I watch from a distance as Cherry attempts to tie a loaded saddlebag onto the rope harness that Vakh, in manticore form, is sporting.
Cherry fumbles the pack several times, her strawberry hair in disarray and a pinch of concentration between her brows.
Marton, beside her, gestures and points, saying something to her as he tries to give helpful instructions.
She shoots him a glare before seeming to force herself to stop and consider his words.
She purses her lips tightly and tries again, this time managing to get the saddlebag attached.
Vakhrin gives a feline snort and shakes out his wings, turning his head back and bearing his fangs in a horrific grin.
Cherry scowls at him before her expression is broken up with laughter.
Marton smiles at the two of them, and my chest pinches.
All the supplies we are taking have been donated by the people of the Trove. We will have food enough to eat for most of the journey because of their generosity. And Cherry and Marton, bundled in their winter cloaks, will be warm as the chill weather sets in. Because of my sister.
"I'm fighting hard not to try and convince you to stay," Araine says quietly beside me.
Many of the Dragomira have come out to see us off.
Araine and Hamish. Sartok, who is running circles around the stone courtyard and laughing with a group of other children.
Raku and Jeksu and Perilya, and countless others.
They all know what we plan to do. They all want to touch my hands and thank me for what I have already done. For killing Inobar.
It's a relief to finally step away from them all. To get some space to say goodbye to my sister. But now I have to say goodbye to her. This woman who I hardly know, who I am already indebted to in a thousand ways. We are indebted to each other. Maybe that's what being family is.
"I thought you found value in what we plan to do."
"I do," Araine says. "Of course I do. It's only..."
"It's only you think we are going to die." I manage to say the words without quite feeling them. My eyes stray back to Marton and Vakhrin and Cherry, packing up our supplies and sharing little jokes. A family. Mine.
How soon will I lose them all? And will it be because of a basilisk king, or because of my own failures?
"I think there is danger on any road, but you seem to have picked a road with more danger than most. I worry for you.
And I hope."
"I worry for you," I repeat softly, turning my attention back to Araine.
I see traces of myself, in her face. Traces of our father, who I never knew.
"And I hope."
"Bah. Don't worry for me," Araine laughs.
"I like to think the worst is over for us.
And I have Hamish and Sartok. Raku and Jeksu.
Perilya. Tragan and Uthenia. Demi—"
"Alright, alright.
" I pretend to cringe. "You have countless supporters.
I get it."
Araine's face sobers.
"I should send someone with you. A delegation, a guard.
I should—"
"No, Araine," I quickly interrupt.
"Keep your people here. Guard what you have.
What you've all fought so hard for. Our road is our own.
" I nod towards my friends. "If the king is what we fear he is, I don't know if any numbers could make the difference.
I think we will have to fight with something better than force.
"
"And if he's human?
"
"Then perhaps I'll take his head off, if Cherry lets me.
Or if she asks me to."
Araine frowns once more.
"Sartok told me what you said to him the night of the party.
About killing."
I cringe.
"Araine, I'm sorry—"
She cuts me off by shaking her head.
"Don't be. I'm glad someone gave him a lesson in what challenging, fighting, and killing are really like.
I don't know if I would have done it, if I could have, but I hated to see him so excited over something so brutal and grim.
Raku is always filling his head with nonsense—" Araine stops herself short, shakes her head.
"No, I'm grateful for what you did. I'm only.
..concerned, about how you said you felt.
"
"I had too much hotwine.
"
Araine smiles wanly.
"Don't deflect. You said killing hurt you in your soul, that you felt that you had broken the world.
"
"That's not exactly—"
"Hush.
" Araine's tone is that of a mother more than a sister, and I fall silent.
"I want you to know, Tarah," she clasps my hands, "that you are not a monster.
"
"Ah—" I don't get a word out before she's speaking over me in a stern voice.
"You are not a monster.
It's good to feel guilty when you have done something hard, when you've fought or killed.
It's good to hurt, to let yourself grieve for the lives you've taken.
It means you are a real, living person, with a heart.
With a soul that can ache. It means you are not a monster.
So let it hurt, Tarah. And then let it go.
We all do what we have to, to survive, to protect those we love, or to make the world a better, safer place.
You were thrust upon a difficult road, and now you've chosen an even harder one.
You have to keep your eyes open, Tarah. See yourself more clearly.
The good with the bad. The strong with the weak.
You're a leader. And that means you can't retreat into yourself when things get tough.
You have to lead them, sister. You have to be strong, in all ways.
Stronger than anyone should ever be asked to be.
You cannot falter, or all of them will fail.
Do you understand?"
"I—" There is a lump in my throat, difficult to speak around.
I'm not sure that I do understand her. Not sure that I am good, or strong, or a leader.
So I just nod my head, force out a tight smile.
Araine releases my hands and steps back with a worried look.
"I hope you will think about what I've said.
"
"I hope—I—thank you.
" I grimace.
Araine shakes her head, and a little laugh of disbelief escapes her.
"I think you are a lot more like our father than I realized.
" At my pinched expression, she hurries to explain.
"Not the way he was at the end, but in the beginning.
When my mother was alive. He was a good man.
A little bumbling and awkward, but kind and good.
He was never great with people, but he cared about them.
" I'm not sure what to make of that, but Araine continues with an abstracted expression.
"He cared about them so much. But when he lost my mother, he lost his way.
He...spiraled into the dark. He let the pain of living and loving break him.
" She meets my eyes. "Don't do that, Tarah.
You are fierce and strong and good. But.
..brittle in a way that scares me. You have to hold together.
Let love guide you; don't let it ruin you.
"
"I'll try." I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to reconcile this new information about my father with everything else I know about myself.
Do I let love ruin me?
When I open my eyes, Araine is watching me.
She offers me a smile. "I'm sorry for the lecture.
I'm a mother, you know. It comes naturally.
"
"I've noticed," I mumble.
She shakes her head and laughs.
"You pout just like Sartok."
I am liking this conversation less and less.
Araine laughs brightly at whatever my expression is, and then with no warning she is pulling me into a hug.
I am smothered by curly hair and the smell of fiery herbs.
At first, I stand stiffly, not accustomed to being hugged like this.
Tightly. Securely. With an unselfish affection and good-natured grace.
Araine hugs like hugging is easy. Natural.
And I slowly let myself melt into the dream of that easy affection.
An uncomplicated love.
Before I know it, I am grasping her back just as tightly.
Clinging, almost.
"Come back to me, sister.
I want to get to know you better," Araine whispers into my hair.
"I'll do my best," I promise.
Araine releases me, and I laugh awkwardly as I attempt to pull myself together.
I wipe my face, though it's dry. Tuck my hair behind my ears.
Try to remember what I usually do with my hands.
Araine's smile is full of soft wistfulness and bright hope.
"Goodbye, Tarah."
"Goodbye, Araine.
" I blow out a slow breath, and my next words are a whisper.
"No matter what happens, I'm glad I got to be your sister for a while.
"
"You will always be my sister.
And if you ever need my help, you need only send a message.
I will come."
With those words, Araine turns and makes her way back over to the milling crowd of Dragomira.
We've already said our goodbyes to the others, throughout the day.
I've said goodbye to all but one of the people of the Trove.
As if he has been summoned through some silent cue, Sartok comes barreling towards me, faster than any human child could move.
I only have a brief moment to realize he doesn't plan on stopping before Sartok takes a running leap and catapults himself into my arms. I catch him with an oof of breath, and then I'm left to try and figure out how to hold this remarkably heavy wyvern child.
Sartok has no such problem.
He locks his arms behind my neck and buries his face in my shoulder.
Like he's known me all his life.
"Mom says you're leaving," he mumbles into my tunic.
"I am." I adjust my grasp on him, trying to get comfortable.
"Uncle Raku says you might not come back.
Maybe ever."
That puts my hugging readjustments on hold.
"Uncle Raku needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.
"
Sartok snorts into my neck and lifts his head.
"That's what Mom says too." His sapphire eyes gleam up at me.
"But you'll come back, won't you? Because you're Mom's sister, and you're my auntie?
You'll come back and see us?"
"I—Do you want me to?
" I can't imagine I've made that good of an impression.
Sartok's forehead wrinkles like he's confused by the question.
"We're family."
"That doesn't always mean much to people.
"
"What people?"
"Nothing.
No one. Never mind. Of course I'll—I'll try to come back.
Of course I want to come see you again. Because I'm you auntie.
And your my—my nephew."
"What's a nephew?
"
"What—You call everyone auntie and uncle.
You don't know what a nephew is?"
"No?
"
I narrow my eyes at the child, trying to figure out if he's messing with me, but he seems sincere.
And I guess if he calls Raku and Jeksu uncle, and gives honorary titles to all the other adults in his life, then he's never had it explained to him what having a biological aunt means.
He's never been a nephew before, and I realize this is something I can give him.
Some small parting gift, in case I never do come back.
"You call Raku uncle right? "
A nod.
"Because you've known him all your life, and he's good friends with you and your mother and father?
" Another nod. "And your mother explained that I'm her sister, and that makes us family, and it makes me your aunt?
"
"Yeah."
"Well that's a different kind of aunt or uncle, when the person is related to you, than it is for a person who's a really close friend.
When you have an aunt who's related to you, then that makes you her nephew.
And you're mine."
"Yours?
"
"My nephew." I nod.
"And that means that no matter where I go, or how long it is before we see each other again, I'll always be your aunt, and you'll always be my nephew.
"
Sartok's eyes grow big with this imparted knowledge, and he lets himself drop back to the ground, landing gracefully on his feet.
"Raku!" he screams. "I'm not your nephew!
" He takes off running toward his uncle, apparently intent on rubbing this new information in the unsuspecting dragon's face.
"Shit," I mutter to myself.
In the midst of the milling group, Araine and Hamish are standing with arms wrapped around each other, laughing at the antics of their son—and Raku's deeply wounded squawking.
Araine meets my eyes across the distance, and her smile grows sad.
She lifts her hand to wave, and my throat closes up as I follow suit.
You have to be strong, in all ways.
How can it already be this hard, when we haven't even gotten to the hard part yet?
I force myself to lower my hand.
To turn away from my sister and all of the laughing, happy, hopeful people of the Trove.
Something wrenches in my chest, trying to drag me back to them, but I ignore it.
My heart says mine like a ravening beast, but I ignore it.
I can't have everything. Can't keep everyone.
When I turn to face my friends, I find Marton only a few paces behind me, his eyes trailing between me and my sister.
Her family around her. He offers me what feels like his first smile in days.
"I think you love people faster than anyone I've ever met.
" His voice is quiet, fond, so much the voice of the boy I've come to know and.
..care for...over the last several weeks.
Let love guide you; don't let it ruin you.
Marton is going to leave, I know.
He doesn't care for this plan to face the king, and he doesn't want me anymore.
I've hurt him. Shown him who I truly am.
You have to be strong, in all ways.
Stronger than anyone should ever be asked to be.
I have to start by putting him away.
It's going to hurt more than I want to acknowledge, when he leaves.
But I can't let it steal my focus from my mission with Vakh and Cherry.
I push past him without a word and go to rejoin my princess.
We have a hard road ahead, and it's time to get started.