This time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
There were no bodies in the Golden Palace. I don’t know what would have been worse. Going there and finding the rotting corpses of my parents. Or going there, as I did, and finding nothing. Just like Isera, I don’t feel like I can get any closure at all without knowing what happened to their bodies. So after my futile visit to the Golden Palace, I came here. To the one place I really shouldn’t be in right now.
My chest tightens so painfully that I can barely get a single breath down as I stand there in the empty kitchen of my parents’ house. Because it is empty. Not just deserted. Empty.
Tears burn hot against my eyelids as I turn in a slow circle, right in the place where our kitchen table used to be. There is nothing in here. The scratched table is gone. The chairs are gone. All the plates and the cutlery. The curtains. Even the new drinking glasses that my parents were finally issued years after I broke the first ones. All of it. Gone.
I try to swallow past the thickness in my throat, but it doesn’t work, so I walk back into the living room instead. My footsteps echo against the bare walls. The couch, the small table, the frayed carpet, my mother’s boxes of needles andthread, all of it… gone.
No air is making it down to my lungs, so I start drawing in faster breaths to make up for it. But that just makes my head spin.
I stare at the space where the couch used to be. Images of my parents sitting there side by side flash before my eyes. Images of both before and after I ruined everything with my magic. Happy memories from when I was a small child flit through my mind like elusive butterflies. I was so young back then that I can’t fully remember everything. Just bits and pieces.
Warmth and safety as I was nestled on my mother’s lap while she hugged me. A thrill racing through my body as my father picked me up and spun me around. Smiles. Laughter. Thebefore.
Then theafter. Anger and resentment. Yelling and accusations. Tears and frustration and orders to leave them alone. To get out. To stop. Hatred. Broken screams that I ruined everything.
And the worst part of all is that I might have been able to fix it. Now that I am able to see that final thread that remains when I create an emotion out of nothing, I could have removed the hatred from my parents’ chests.Ifit was there. We could have become a real family again.IfI had checked on them sooner.IfI had told them to hide after I pissed off Jessina.IfI had done a million things differently.
But I didn’t.
A sob slips from my lips, and my knees buckle. I crash down hard on the ground there in the middle of the living room while the brutal reality of my life hits me like a violent assault.
I will never get to introduce Draven to my parents. They will never know that I have found a fated mate who sees me for who I really am and loves all parts of me. That I have found happiness and that I have a wonderful future waiting for me just beyond the horizon.
My parents will never meet their grandchildren. I will never get to ask my mom for advice on childbirth. Or marriage. Or anything at all.
And worst of all, always worst of all, I will never know if they loved me.
Tears stream down my face as I bow forward over my knees and press my hands to the cold floor while gasping in breaths that never make it to my lungs. Unending grief and regret press down on my back like a boulder, crushing me against the floor.
I don’t know what happened to their bodies. I don’t know if they loved me. I don’t know anything. There are no answers. No closure. Just agonizing, unending regret.
My chest aches and my heart hurts so badly that I wish I could rip it out of my body.
I can’t be in here. I can’t see these empty rooms and the memories that echo like ghosts between the bare walls. I can’t keep feeling like this. I’m going to die. Oh Goddess, I’m going to die.
Shoving myself up from the floor, I stagger a few steps while my head spins. Then I run for the door. Shouldering it open, I stumble out into the late summer night. The warm air wraps around me like a blanket, but it doesn’t feel comforting. It feels as if it’s trying to suffocate me.
I pull desperately at the collar of my shirt as I stagger down the street, but no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of the feeling that I’m being strangled to death. I need my magic. I need the comfort. The pleasure. Just a little boost. Just to break through this panic and regret. Oh Goddess, I need it. I need it so fucking badly. I need?—
My gaze snags on a group of people inside the building right next to me. Coming to an abrupt halt, I slowly turn towards the window and stare in right through it while my heart pounds like a battle drum inside me. Because it’s them. The group that Alistair pointed out earlier. Some of the traitors who held him down and burned him to prove to the dragon shifters that they were good little fae.
This time, I don’t even hesitate. Because I need this.
No, I mean,Alistairneeds this. I’m doing this for Alistair. That’s it. It’s not for myself. It’s only for Alistair.
Liar, my mind whispers.
I block it out and just yank the door open.
All five people inside the kitchen on the other side jump in surprise. Twisting in their chairs, they stare at me with wide eyes as I stalk inside. I know that I should probably close the door behind me, but I can’t concentrate on anything else right now. All my brain is focused on is the pleasure that will hit me in two seconds. It consumes every thought in my head. Like a drowning woman anticipating a life-saving breath.
“What are you doing?” the guy on the left blurts out.
“Wait,” the woman next to him begins as she squints at me. “Aren’t you?—”
