36. Rahzlyn
Rahzlyn
The days bled into each other.
The loss of my grandparents—my family—eviscerated my ability to function. To care. A cold, hollow void remained in their absence, puncturing my lungs every time I pictured their faces. Their demise.
They were gone from this world. I would never see them, hold them, argue with them ever again. Without them to fight for, to redeem myself for, I couldn’t find a reason to get up.
Not when I’d brought this upon myself—upon them.
“So much wastefulness.” Letti cleared the tray of food beside my bed. “Do you know how many Scorpion families would beg for a bite of your untouched meals? You’re not the only one to know loss.”
“I’m aware,” I mumbled into the damp pillow. But this was the first true loss I’d experienced, and I didn’t know how to find my way through the depths of my own despair.
Letti rattled a new tray of what I assumed to be dinner, given the dimness that had descended upon the chamber. “This victim mentality of yours will eat you alive if you let it.”
“I do not have a victim mentality.” Did I? I glared over my shoulder at her as she went about tidying up the room. “Is this how Scorpions treat someone in mourning?”
“Death, change, it’s all part of life,” she said. “Scorpions understand that better than most. And you are not just someone. You’re a Chosen now, with responsibilities and people depending on you. This outcome was inevitable.”
“Inevitable or not, I’m allowed to grieve.”
“At least be productive with your grieving then. Take your pity-fest into the bathing chamber and train.” Letti paused. “The queendom deserves better than whatever this is.”
The grief weighed on me like a blanket of steel. I may not have set fire to our home, but I lit the match.
“You’re right,” I said, my fingers twisting the soft black sheets into my chest. “The queendom does deserve better than me. I don’t care about training. How can I, when everything that truly mattered is gone?”
“You must find something else to live for then. Do you truly believe your own life isn’t worthy enough?”
“Do you?” I retorted.
“It doesn’t matter what I think, or anyone else for that matter.”
I once thought so too. But that was when my imperfections had no effect on the lives of others.
“I’m grateful you’ve kept my secrets at the risk of your own life, Letti.
I am. But I’m selfish and imperfect and hardly prepared to be a princess, let alone a queen.
We both know that I’m not fit for this life.
I’m a symptom of the curse, not its breaker. ”
“That’s it.” Letti slammed the trays against the vanity, their clanking loud and abrupt. “If I listen to any more of this I’m going to stab my ears.”
I sat upright to question her just as she yanked me from the bed.
“Letti!” I shrieked, fending her off. She ignored my resistance and dragged me across the terrace with determination. “Stars, you are deceptively strong. Where are you—” My words were swallowed by the cold water she pushed me into.
I resurfaced, gasping in shock as my night dress clung to my body.
“You will grieve for the rest of your life.” Letti spoke from the edge of the pool. “But you must learn to live with it. Time is the only remedy.”
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“I color my hair because it gives people something else to talk about besides my limp—my limp that has taken more from me than you could ever imagine. I could either drown in self-pity, or move, change—flow with the river of burdens that life tosses us into.” She paused, her stare surprisingly soft.
“Do not lose yourself in your sorrows. Always keep moving, and the pain will lessen.”
She left without another word. I stared after her, dumbfounded by her somber candor.
Shivers racked my body as the cold water lapped against me.
Unlike the bathing chamber, the terrace pool was not temperature controlled.
I craned my neck to take in the stars overhead.
Several large ones twinkled. My heart tightened, imagining them to be my grandparents. My brother, even.
Forever watching from above, there was nowhere to hide from my family’s judgement now. I wondered if the souls of the stars had thoughts—and if they did, what they must have thought of me.
Slow bootsteps approached. Raithe emerged from the shadows, arms folded across his broad chest and a blanket slung over his right shoulder. He eyed me skeptically. “Practicing again?”
“L-letti,” I grumbled, clutching my arms. I didn’t know how long I’d been in here, but enough time had passed for my skin to prune.
“She means well.”
I stared up at him, a slimy, green knot furling in my stomach.
“Since w-when do you g-give out compliments?” I didn’t care if he liked Letti.
Apart from the fact that he was Chosen and therefore forbidden from having sexual intimacy with anyone, I was primarily concerned for his well-being.
Since he was my guardian, and all. “The oath of c-celibacy isn’t only about s-sex, right?
” I blurted. “You shouldn’t love or experience r-romantic feelings for anyone. ”
Raithe’s stare darkened. “I’m aware.”
“Just r-reminding you.”
“Consider me reminded,” he said wryly.
“G-great.” My fingers rubbed along my pebbled skin.
He held out his hand. “You plan on standing in there much longer? Your chattering teeth are grating my ears.”
“Fine, I’ll t-take pity on your poor, g-guardian ears.” I clasped his arm, and in one fluid motion he hauled me out of the water. My breath caught as the abrupt movement brought my chest flush with his. With our eyes locked, he draped the blanket around my shoulders.
I gripped the warm material. My body tingled with recognition, remembering the solace I’d found in his strength. He hadn’t been the comfort I’d wanted, but he’d been the comfort I needed.
We hadn’t spoken much since then, primarily because I’d scarcely left my chambers.
He’d checked on me every night, though. When my tears became too uncontrollable, he’d crouched by my bedside and reminded me to breathe. That was it. For some reason, this man’s presence had a greater effect on me than Gertah’s sleeping draughts.
“H-how are you?” I asked, referring to Hector’s books. “We both suffered a l-loss that night.”
“Fine.”
“I saw the l-look on your face. You were d-devastated, too, Raithe.”
The muscles in his jaw feathered. There was nothing in his eyes now except stone-cold apathy. “I have nothing to be devastated over.”
I took advantage of our proximity to study him. The crook in his nose was rather endearing. He also had unfairly beautiful lashes for a man. Thick and black and curly, like his hair. I wanted to run my fingers through his locks, curious if they were softer than my own.
Raithe lifted a brow. “See something of interest?”
“What if I do?”
My honesty took him by surprise. He took a flustered step back. “Don’t—you can’t say things like that.”
“Like what?” The shivers had dissipated, replaced by tingly heat. “Like I think you have a nice face?”
Red bloomed in his cheeks. “Someone might overhear and make the wrong assumption.”
I couldn’t help it—I liked seeing him undone by a few flirtatious words. “Is it treason to give a compliment?”
“You can be so senseless sometimes, you know that?”
I tugged myself free, my playfulness doused by his contemptuous comment. “Do you enjoy being an ass?”
“No, but I’ve been told I’m exceptionally good at it.”
“At least you’re self-aware.”
“You have no idea.”
I lifted my chin. Just when we’d found stable, common ground, our mouths got the better of us. Around him I couldn’t seem to help it. “I’m warmed up. You can go now.”
Instead of leaving—to both my delight and vexation—he reached into his vest and pulled out a familiar golden trinket, splaying it in his palm.
I gasped, marveling at the mundane object and attached chain. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “How did—”
“Your grandmother.”
My fingers, no longer trembling as warmth returned to my limbs, traced the intricate grooves of the circular watch.
It filled me with a lightness that temporarily cast the sadness at bay.
“It’s been in my family for generations,” I said, feeling the need to explain its significance.
“I didn’t think I’d see this again. Or that I’d care. ”
“It doesn’t appear to work,” Raithe noted regarding the stuck dial.
“Never did. It’s impossible to fix, the clasp sealed, so it’s more of a memento.
Basil pretended to read the time to leave social situations early.
” I chuckled fondly. “Markus and Allory gave me this watch as proof that they took him. The last time I held this, I threw it at my grandmother in anger.” I retracted my hand.
“It feels more cursed than it does a family totem.”
“Your grandmother wanted you to have it.”
I took the watch tentatively. “You spoke with her before she…?”
“Briefly.” He hesitated, his face brimming with questions. “Her last words were odd.”
“What were they?”
“Cosmo,” he said. “And twin flame.”
“Truly? She didn’t believe in the legends of twin flames. She chastised them. Cosmo, though… My grandfather would often ramble about the cosmos in his fits. I don’t know what that word could mean otherwise.”
“Could be a name?”
“We didn’t know anyone by that name. At least I didn’t.”
“Is there anything else you think we should know?” Raithe pressed. “About you and your family? About who you really are?”
“I’ve told you everything.” I frowned. “Did my grandmother say anything else?”
“What else do you think she said?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, fisting the watch. He already knew about my brother’s gifted Sight. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
For all his stoicism, he couldn’t hide the slight twitch of his brows. There was something else. His eyes were an abyss of secrets, and I wanted to delve into them. “You want so badly to prove I’m a liar, no matter what I tell you. Why is it so difficult for you to believe I’ve been deceived?”