24. Luna
LUNA
When I step through the door of the Keep, I’m shivering.
Cracked snow had molded to my knees and shins, damp cold leeching through the material of my pants. It chews at my skin as I rip off my coat and hang it in the foyer closet, then lifts my hands in front of my face to study the blue tinge beneath my nail bed.
I tuck my shoes neatly into the wooden cubicle kept for such occasions. Once the gear is securely put away, I rub my red, frosty hands together and kick the closet door shut before padding down the hall toward the dining room.
We keep a fire burning at all times in the winter because the dining room is right off the kitchen. It only takes the pipes freezing once to never let it get that cold again.
My shoulders cave as my hands try to light an imaginary fire, but when I enter the dining room and see I’m not alone, I still. My shoulders pull back, and my spine straightens, though it’s only Persephone.
A muscle jumps in my cheek. The fire must be less inviting because I get the urge to turn around and walk away as quickly as I came. Curl up in my bed to combat the cold, though the temperature of my bedroom hardly receives warmth. There are no fireplaces in my quarter.
As if protesting the move, my fingers tingle as I turn around. I curl my fists beneath my sweater and cringe as the cold bites my stomach.
Don’t be stubborn.
Shoulders stiff, I march to the fireplace and fall to my knees. My eyes close as the heat calms the tremor in my hands and thaws the ice sticking to my thighs. I sigh; let my head hang. Warmth spreads on my scalp as I bow to the flames.
A sniffle sounds at the table behind me. I open my eyes but don’t turn that way.
Go home. I want to snap so badly but keep my mouth shut as something in my gut pinches. It’ll stop. It’ll—
Another sniffle.
Does she want me to hear?
Father would never tolerate such theatrics…
Or would he?
Though my head is still bowed, flames lick heat over both sides of my face. My ears ring as if my body and mind finally align—we don’t want to hear this.
With the ringing comes a voice inside my head: Warriors do not cry, my sweet. Spoken the first time Father came into my room.
I didn’t listen. I cried into my pillow like the stupid little girl I was.
The next day, I learned what pain was. My lungs burn at the memory, and though I’m staring at the fireplace, it’s the rocks at the bottom of the river I see, my gurgled screams in my ears as a Keeper held me in place beneath the water.
Then as if time skipped, the next image is Father with his hand on my back, patting gently as I gasped past the lingering water in my lungs. He told me I’d been cured of my weakness. Purified.
I believed him. In the twelve years since, I’ve only once felt the need to cry.
Another sniffle makes me flinch, and my body heaves toward the fire. My molars grind as I pull back.
Evil. Bitter. Horrid. Irredeemable.
All words that describe me for the thoughts that enter my mind. In some ways, Sawyer is right. Persephone is a child. You’d have to be a monster to wish them ill.
But I can’t help but wonder… Why isn’t she being cured of her weakness? Why does she get to be impure?
Perhaps Father doesn’t know.
A breath shudders past my lips as I flatten my palms on my knees and stand.
Persephone seems to shrink as I go to her, her hand jerking to swipe away a tear that escaped from her puffy eye.
It’s red with the slightest bit of purpling setting in.
Obviously not a hard hit but hard enough to make her cower like a wounded dog.
I walk past her into the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack, and after setting it in front of her, I take the chair catty corner to hers. She’s slow to pick it up, as if she thinks I’m testing her. Finally, she brings the pack to her eye and cringes as it touches swollen flesh.
“You’d be wise not to anger him,” I say, though that isn’t a lesson I’ve seemed to learn.
Avoiding provocation was easier when I was her age.
I couldn’t see Father’s flawed thinking back then, couldn’t blame him for the impurities he put in his body.
He’s a bastard when he’s drunk, but I learned to maneuver his moods.
I got very good at being exactly what I was supposed to be at any given moment.
Now—not as much.
“Yes, Head Keeper,” Persephone nearly whimpers. So feeble. Too feeble for my world.
That thought is echoed with Sawyer’s voice. It stings behind my ears, making me clench my teeth and cringe.
“He thinks I scratched his record.” She grips the bottom of her chair and puffs her lip as she looks to me for understanding. “I would never touch his things without permission.”
“Did you tell him that?”
She nods, her eyes widening. “Yes. I—”
“Don’t.” My tone is so sharp, Persephone flinches. “You don’t ever tell him he’s wrong. You drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness… Nothing endangers the male ego more than truth.”
Another tear slips from her eye as she lowers the ice pack to the table. She trembles like her quiet cries are about to turn to sobs.
I frown. My hand reaches halfway toward her before pausing. A thought crosses my mind that pulls a deep sadness from within.
I wish Zephyr were here.
She was the comforting type. Sweet. Kind. Useless.
Sometimes, I wish I was more like her.
Taking a deep breath, I reach the rest of the way to lightly lay my hand over hers.
“One day, you will be very good at telling lies… Consider today a training session. There’s no shame in training.”
Her head lifts as she peers up at me, the sadness displayed penetrating me so deep, it’s as if I’m looking at a reflection. I try to look away. But fail.
“I don’t want to lie,” she whispers, her bottom lip quivering.
We stare at each other for several moments—her looking for reassurance, me struck with what I think might be grief. With what I’m afraid is grief.
I tell myself it’s disgust instead.
My throat seems to close, trapping air in my lungs until I can swallow the emotion down. I pull my hand away and stand, my eyes diverting from hers. “Then do what you feel is right… In the meantime, go home. Chief Elder won’t be calling for you tonight.”
“I can’t,” she whines. “Mother Mary will be angry when she learns of my disobedience… Please, Your Grace. I’ll be silent.”
“No.” I shake my head. My chest opens as I inhale a breath to banish my father’s companion from my home. It’s what I want. If I had it my way, she would leave and never come back, if only so the churning of my gut could finally calm.
But the heartbreak on her face eats away at my words in three sharp bites.
I let my breath out, slow and calm through my nostrils. “You’ll be invisible… In the library… If you’re going to stay, be wise with your time. Practice your reading.”
“Yes, Head Keeper.” Her head bobs an unnecessary number of times as she stands. In typical Persephone fashion, she leaves the ice pack lying on the table and hurries from the room, off to stow herself away in the library.
I sigh and put the ice pack away before going to my room and am relieved to see Cinder has chosen to sleep with me tonight.
I remove my clothes and crawl beneath the covers, pulling her close as I shut my eyes and pretend I’m going to be able to sleep.