“Let me get this straight,” I say, my voice shaking with anger. “You’re telling me that I can go home if I want to, and I don’t have to return your money?”
“What money?”
“The money you paid for me. You bought me at the bride market, Altair. Then you used me as your servant. And now you’re simply telling me that I can be your wife if I want to, and if I don’t, I can go home?”
“That is right.”
I shake my head in disbelief, feeling like the floor is tilting beneath my feet.
“I don’t believe you. I don’t understand what is wrong with you, but I know that something is very, very wrong with you.”
He looks at me and nods. It takes me aback, because it seems like he agrees with me.
“Yes, Tressa. There is something wrong with me. I can’t help it. I’ve tried.”
I laugh again, but this time it sounds more desperate than bitter. I feel like I’m the one who’s going insane.
“Am I allowed to write to my friend Alana now?”
“Yes, of course. You can do whatever you want.”
He reaches for a stack of papers on his desk and picks up a pen, then holds them out to me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I stare at them for a moment, not trusting this sudden generosity, then walk over and grab them from his hands.
Before I leave the library, I turn around and meet his eyes.
“You do realize that if you tell me I can leave, then I will. I am leaving, Altair.”
“I know.”
There’s sadness in his voice. I look at him like he’s a mystery, a puzzle I can’t hope to ever solve. I’m not even certain I want to try.
“It makes no sense. What has happened since you brought me here makes absolutely no sense.”
“I know.”
“And you’re not going to explain any of it.”
“I would,” he says quietly, “but I don’t believe that I can.”
I open my mouth to say something else, but nothing comes out. I close it and stand there, feeling lost. Words fail me, and logic fails me.
I’ve always known that the Aurellions were mad. Completely out of their minds. Varrick was cruel and insane, and of course Altair would be the same, no matter what he says about not being like his father.
Without another word, I leave the library and rush to my chambers. I grab some of my things and start packing a bag. When that’s done, I sit at the table near the window and start writing to Alana.
I want to tell her so much, but I find that I can’t. I can’t put into words what I’ve gone through this entire time. So, I simply write that I will return home soon. I fold the letter and seal it.
I go downstairs to place the letter in the basket where someone will pick it up and send it, and then I start back toward my chambers.
But as I walk, my steps slow down. I look around at the tapestries and the exquisite paintings that line the halls. I look out the windows at the setting sun. As horrible as my time here has been, I haven’t completely hated it. It’s been nice to be back in the place where I was born, where I spent my first years of life, and where my childhood wasn’t actually that bad.
Sure, the reason why it wasn’t bad was because I didn’t understand most of what was happening around me, but this is the place where I followed my mother around, and where my parents were happy. Where my brother was alive – a bright, cheerful boy who ran down the corridors and played with his best friend, Altair.
After we left the palace, it all went downhill. Life became a series of obstacles that wouldn’t end, and wounds that would reopen no matter how hard I tried to find peace.
This palace is the only place where I was ever happy. Altair should’ve ruined it for me, but after the confrontation we had in the library earlier, I don’t know what to think about himanymore. He’s confusing to the point where he sounds crazy, but I wonder if there might be something else there that I don’t see.
