He said he forgave her. How could Boden say heforgaveher?
She screamed her way through another Shard.
Another.
Another.
As if the entirety of the Void wasn’t enough to hold all the lament in her ribs.
Gone. Gone.
She’d waited too long, now Boden was gone.
She couldn’t say what subconscious map led her to where the Shards became familiar. What desperate need pushed her through that final Curtain.
She emerged at the outskirts of Nyskya. Her home, in tatters.
Lavender morning lay upon the roofs. Blood and snow in the streets. Fi ran, tired legs trembling, searching for any movement, any sign of the Beast that had stolen her brother, so she could scream her fury into its soulless red eyes.
To no avail. The village was empty, silent and snow muffled.
They’d fought. They’d rallied. They’d been so close to victory. Fi should have been there. She should have been there with Boden, instead of running after…
Fi stumbled to the edge of the forest, to boot prints disappearing into the trees.
“Astrid!” she yelled to snow-laced boughs.
Nothing.
“Astrid! Come back!”
Maybe she wanted to lay the blame on Astrid’s shoulders for bringing the Beast here. Maybe she wanted someone to tell her how to fix this. Maybe she just wanted to fall into the arms of someone, the only one who still remembered Boden the way Fi did, that bright-cheeked boy huddled over hot cocoa and counting stars wreathed in aurora.
It didn’t matter the reason. No one replied.
Fi dropped to her knees in the snow, sobbing until she couldn’t breathe.
Astrid was gone. Boden was gone. Their mother, fled in the night. Their father, burned on his funeral pyre. And Fi alone in the ashes of all they’d built. Her alone to move forward. How was she supposed to do that when she couldn’t imagine standing? Couldn’t fathom the strength to do anything but curl into the snow?
Static pricked her tongue.
Fi wiped a hand under her nose, slick with snot. She’d expected Antal to track her down before now. Trying to give her space? Fi didn’t want him here. She didn’t want him to see her on her knees with tear-soaked eyes, this shattered husk of a human who couldn’t even save her only brother.
Antal didn’t come closer. Didn’t speak. Cagey bastard.
Fi stood with aching bones and aching heart. She wiped her face again, hoping to appear some sliver of presentable, knowing it was no use when her hand came back slathered with mucous and mascara. She turned with a scowl.
And found Verne staring back at her.
40
How do you like these teeth?
Antal had warned her that Nyskya wasn’t safe.
It wasn’t that Fi ignored him. The information had ceased existing, her mind too consumed by a grief she didn’t know how to contain. Boden—her sweet, stubborn Boden—sacrificing himself to defend their village from a Beast.
Now, here was that Beast’s master, come to inspect the aftermath.
