“It is a mortal-made weapon. I had a bow once. I told you this. But I gifted it to my brother’s wife.”
For a good, long while, I stare at this man. Freedom: a captive’s greatest, most elusive hope.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” I quaver, fresh tears wetting my cheeks. “Had you simplyasked,I might have agreed to part with the sword.” For a time, at least.
He stares at me. “You wouldn’t have given up Meirlach.”
“You don’t know that!” I cry, flinging up a hand. “You assumed things of me. You shoved me into a box and your mind did not change. Instead of being honest from the start, you deceived. You thought little of me.”
But I am not through with him. On the contrary, there is so much I might say, had I the time to do so. But I strike where he is weakest. Fell him with a single blow.
“You once asked if anyone could love someone like you,” I whisper. “Me—I could have, had you given me the opportunity. But you are a bird so enchanted by its own song that it remains deaf to the calls of others. That is why you are alone, why you will continue to be alone for the rest of your long, miserable existence.”
Pain fractures his expression. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry you were caught,” I spit. “Sorry you will return to the Orchid King empty-handed, no nearer to freedom.”
“Brielle, please.” He eases forward, yet I raise Meirlach, its blade luminous despite the darkness of the Grotto. He is too careless, tossing around my name. He must be truly desperate for my attention.
“One more step, and I will slit your throat, immortal or not.” My voice trembles with restrained rage. “Let this be your final warning: if you ever show your face in Thornbrook again, I will kill you. I don’t care what it takes or how complicated the steps. I will find a way to end your life.”
His eyes widen. Zephyrus, however, says nothing more.
After today, I will return to Thornbrook and I will not think of the West Wind ever again. With Meirlach in my possession, I can move on with my life. I doubt Zephyrus will be let off his leash anytime soon, if ever. A just punishment if I have ever heard one.
His attention slides to the blade, perhaps debating the likelihood that I will carry out my promise. “You need me to guide you back to Carterhaugh. It’s not safe.”
“I don’t need you, Zephyrus.” A lesson I have learned too late and at the cost of my trust in another. “I never did.”
Turning my back, I wait until his footsteps recede. And when stillness coats the Grotto’s every darkened hollow, I break. My knees hitthe ground. Dagger and sword slip from my grip, impacting the stone with a harsh clatter as my hands lift to cover my face, sound shattering up my throat.
Why must I suffer so? Have I not been a dutiful servant? I think of that eleven-year-old girl left on Thornbrook’s doorstep. I am still that girl, even now.
Something warm and heavy settles across my back. I startle, peering up through my fingers in confusion. Harper stands above me. I did not hear her approach.
“You’re shaking,” she says before looking elsewhere, as though uncomfortable at the sight of my distress.
I then realize Harper wears only her gray cotton dress. The cloak she wore earlier warms my body—the same cloak I bestowed onto Harper last night near the fire.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Sorry. I’m growing sick of that word. “Did you know?” Tears continue to slide across my knuckles, down into the grooves between my fingers. “What he planned to do with the sword?”
“I swear to you I didn’t. I honestly believed he cared for you.”
I scoff. “Right. And I’m sure Zephyrus told you to say this, considering you two are such close friends now.”
A prolonged pause follows. “I know I’ve given you no reason to trust me,” she says, voice soft with what I believe to be regret, “but that is the truth of it.”
Then we were both fools.
“Here, you dropped this.”
I glance at the object she offers me. The roselight throbs like a pale rosette in the center of Harper’s palm. It must have fallen from my pocket during the match.
Something goes cold within me. Snatching it from her hand, I heave the orb far into the darkness. It hits the stone with a chime, then bounces, rolls, before coming to a stop somewhere in the murk. I wish it had shattered.
Harper studies me in concern. “What now?”
