Chapter 18 #2
“I don’t w-w-want to talk to y-you, or look at y-you, or be anywhere n-n-near y-you,” I cry hoarsely. “So please, for once, w-will you do as I ask and let m-me be?”
Shoving my face deeper into the pillow, I purge this heat and bitterness, the weight encasing my heart and lungs, until my sobs disintegrate into pitiful mewls of pain. Clutching at the blankets with clawed fingers, I wish for healing, I wish for peace.
Predictably, the East Wind does not depart at my request. He nears, for the brine feathering his skin is so much more potent now. “I will go,” he says, and this might be the first that I have heard sadness bleeding through his tone. “But before I do, I want to apologize.”
My cries lessen as his statement trickles through the fog shrouding my good sense. Lady Clarisse never cared to apologize. “Is this a j-jest? If so, I d-d-don’t appreciate it.”
“It is no jest. I’m truly sorry for what I said.” It is heavy, his regret. “It was cruel. And you did not deserve it.”
“Th-then why did y-y-you say it?”
His wings rustle. It makes him uncomfortable that I have asked this. “I was… overwhelmed.”
That is no excuse.
“I was afraid of failing the second trial, afraid that coming in last would prevent my victory. So I lashed out. I sought someone else to blame. But I was wrong. If not for your expertise in poisons, I would not have reached the boats at all.”
He tells me what I already know. It does little to heal what is broken inside me.
After a moment, I roll onto my side, the cool air drying my sticky face. Always, the East Wind wears his cloak, never allowing me the opportunity to glimpse his countenance. “You were r-right,” I choke out. But… it is done, my heart exposed, too aggrieved to shield itself properly.
“About what?” he asks gently.
“I’m useless. I’m—” My chin quavers. I bow my head, tears slipping down my nose. “I’m n-n-not worth the effort.”
He steps toward the bed, one seamless, liquid motion. “That’s not true, bird.”
“Isn’t it?” If I were worth the effort, wouldn’t my mother have attempted to foster a relationship with me? Wouldn’t she have showered me in all the colors of the world so that, even on the bleakest days, I would never fall completely into shadow?
Instead, I was gifted to the sea, I was abhorred, I was abandoned.
I’ve spent years of my life breaking myself down to prove to Lady Clarisse that I am good, I am enough, I am worth others’ time.
If I could develop useful skills, if I could be dutiful and diligent, if I could be a ladder for her to climb, then she might finally see me as worthy.
And maybe I would see myself as worthy, too.
The mattress dips beneath Eurus’ weight. “The fault is mine,” he murmurs. “I hurt you deeply, and I failed to make you feel safe. I’m truly sorry for that, bird. I really am. You are absolutely worth every effort.”
“Says the m-man who cannot stand to be in the same r-room as me,” I whisper bitterly.
My eyes sting. I wipe the wetness away with the back of my hand, slumping deeper into the pillows.
I’m tired, but I do not wish to be alone.
I have been so lonely these past years. I dare say my heart no longer recognizes another’s.
“I know this may come as a surprise to you,” he continues in a soft tone, “but I am not usually one for company.”
“You don’t s-say.”
He huffs. “I know I do not have a right to ask for your forgiveness. I have treated you in ways no person should be treated. Maybe I reacted so poorly because I recognize the truth in your words. My childhood was not a happy one. I have long blamed myself for what occurred.” He plants one hand in the blankets near my thigh.
Its heat radiates through the fabric, and my skin stipples, as though already anticipating its touch.
“How much did Demi tell you—about my childhood?”
It is pointless to pretend. “Your father…” I cannot say it.
For an extended moment, the East Wind stares down at the pile of blankets. His hood then angles toward my feet, which peek from beneath the fabric. I tuck them away, suddenly self-conscious.
“My father was a hard man,” he says, “but what can you expect from Astraeus, ruler of the sky at dusk? It was a great responsibility, and he was often irritable, tense. Most days, he left the house before sunset and did not return until well after daybreak.
“Over the years, his relationship with our mother grew strained, and that added to his unhappiness. I still remember the first time he hit me. I walked into the kitchen, and suddenly my ears were ringing, and I was on the ground. He said I walked too loudly, that I was disturbing him as he cooked.”
His story is my story, I realize. Lady Clarisse was an unsettling balance of charm and aggression. She, too, would lash out unexpectedly.
“I was an adolescent when my father first took me away from home,” Eurus continues lowly, and the pain in his voice cannot be masked.
“He claimed we were to visit a distant relative of his. I was stupid enough to believe him.” He shakes his head, scrubs a hand over his face.
“Where did we end up? A distant temple where few traveled. It was there that he began his experiments.”
My gut clenches at that word: experiments. “Demi said your father hurt you, but not your brothers,” I say. “Why is that?”
He rubs the blanket between thumb and forefinger. A soft, gray light delineates the curtains screening the window, softening his darkened form. “Who can say why I was singled out? Perhaps my father thought he was teaching me a lesson.”
I frown, considering not the words themselves, but their rise and fall, the briefest hesitation before his response. It feels like a partial truth, but I do not press him. Whatever shadows he harbors, they are his to bear.
“Did your siblings know what y-your father was doing to you? What of your m-mother?” One might hide bruises and breaks beneath clothing, but ultimately, scars reveal themselves in other ways.
“Over time, my father grew abusive toward my mother. Fearing for her life, she abandoned us. As for my brothers, they did not know what was happening to me until much later. I tried to hide it. I was… ashamed.” I hear his throat click as he swallows.
“There must be something wrong with me, if I alone was selected for his torture. I must have deserved it, right? I must have deserved the pain and isolation.”
Hearing Eurus speak aloud these fears, I realize it is not his fault, and neither was it mine. Why should the East Wind deserve punishment simply for existing? And why should I deserve such treatment from her ladyship?
“Your father is r-r-responsible for your wings, is that correct?”
“Yes. His experiments grew more twisted as the years passed. After that, I was unable to hide what I had become: some sick, twisted creature,” he chokes out in disgust. “An abomination that did not belong in this shining city.”
It is the pain contorting his voice that finally emboldens me to reach for the East Wind.
In this moment, I am not thinking of the consequences my touch might bring.
I am thinking that he has grown up believing he is unwanted, unloved, unworthy.
I am thinking that he was a child, and I was a child, and love from our caretakers was conditional.
Catching his hand, I press it against my chest, atop my heart. Its pace stumbles, for the opening of his hood shifts toward me in surprise. If Eurus does not want my touch, he is free to retreat.
His fingers twitch beneath mine, then settle.
“You are neither twisted, n-nor an abomination,” I assure him. On the contrary, his wings are lovely, unlike anything I’ve encountered before. They offer him a means of freedom, escape.
But he shakes his head. “My father may have made me what I am, but the Council of Gods allowed him to do it. And when the current council banished me and my brothers, after we helped them to overthrow the old gods… As an institution, I cannot allow it to continue.”
While I may not agree with the East Wind’s decision, I understand. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe ending their lives will heal him, though I am inclined to believe it will not.
“I’m sorry you suffered,” I whisper, teary-eyed.
His hand tightens around mine. “Do not cry for me, bird. Do not waste your tears on something that cannot be changed.” He sighs then, draping the blankets over my shoulders. “Can I tell you something?”
I nod.
“I often listened for your voice, back in St. Laurent.”
“Wh-wh-what do you mean?”
“For three months, that witch tortured me out of my mind. Most days it was too difficult to focus on anything besides the pain. But as the weeks passed, I found solace in the rhythm of your voice. It offered a kindness I had rarely encountered in my immortal life.”
I find it difficult to swallow as my awareness of his body heightens, and I am once again reminded of how large he is, how absolute. I hadn’t the slightest idea Eurus felt this way.
“Time passed, and my fascination with you grew.” His thumb rubs along my raised knuckles.
“This mortal woman, weak and cowardly, or so I believed. I wondered what you might look like, what your mannerisms would be, the subtleties of your expressions. I listened for the press of your footsteps. In the evenings, when you would wake to stir whatever brews needed tending to, I began to wish you would approach my cell. And then you did, and I frightened you, and I thought it was what I deserved: to scare off the thing I wanted most.”
My belly quivers in response to his admission. So, my curiosity about Lady Clarisse’s prisoner was not one-sided after all.