When we walk in through the small garden that surrounds the mansion on this side, Draven gently draws his hand over two piles of stones as he passes them. He did the same thing when we walked by last time too, but he didn’t say anything about it.
Trailing to a halt in front of the small piles, I study them. But I can’t find anything significant about them. They’re made up of stones that have been stacked like a little pyramid, with wider stones at the bottom and then gradually getting smaller.
“What are they?” I ask softly.
Draven, who has almost reached the side door, turns back to look at me in surprise. Then he sees me watching the stones, and an expression I can’t read blows across his features for a second.
“What?” I ask, confused.
Dragging a hand through his hair, he walks back until he is standing next to me, facing the two stone piles. Then he heaves a small sigh and casts me a glance from the corner of his eye before he returns his attention to the stones.
“We don’t bury our dead,” he begins. “Just like you, we burn them. But instead of pouring the ashes into the River Andunir the way you do, we throw them into a strong wind and watch them drift out to sea. We have no graves. Instead, we build a small stone pyramid like this as a symbol of remembrance.” He swallows and then casts me one of those strange glances again before he finally finishes with, “These are my parent’s stone pyramids.”
Grief and regret hit me like a gut punch.
It takes all of my willpower to keep my face a blank mask and to keep anything from leaking through our mate bond as the emotions I keep carefully sectioned-off suddenly crash down over me like a landslide. Those vivid memories that Orion forced me to watch for twelve hours on end flash before my eyes in excruciating detail. The resentment in their eyes. Then the fearand shock. The ice shards and the cuts that were so deep that they almost decapitated them. The blood. The thuds. The silver hair turning red.
And that awful voice echoing inside my skull that reminds me that I will never know. That I will have to live the rest of my life with that horrible unanswered question forever fresh in my mind. Did my parents really hate me? Or did I accidentally use my magic on them, which only forced them to hate me? Did they actually love me? I will never know.
I will never know.
Oh Goddess, I will never know.
Those soul-crushing thoughts clang through my skull like death knells.
I drag in a highly controlled breath, trying to force my lungs to work again.
My chest tightens in panic. I need to use my magic. Just for a little while. Just a moment so that I can break this regret and grief that I’m drowning in. Flicking my gaze from side to side, I search desperately for someone to use my magic on.
Then panic hits me again. A different kind of panic.
Draven would never forgive me if I used my magic on his clan.
But I need it. Oh Goddess, I need that comforting warmth. Just a little boost. Just a little taste. Just a little?—
“I’m sorry,” Draven says, wrapping his arms around me. “That’s why I didn’t say anything the first time.”
His embrace snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts enough that I manage to get a full breath down.
Mabona’s tits, pull yourself together, I growl silently at myself.
My heart slams against my ribs as I desperately try to get those intense urges under control. Draven holds me tightly to his chest while I draw in another breath and also try to force the crushing regret back behind the walls where it belongs.
“It’s okay,” I manage to press out.
Dragging in another breath, I pull back from his embrace and force a small smile onto my face. Draven doesn’t believe it for a second.
His eyes are soft as he draws a gentle hand over my cheek. “It’s okay to grieve, you know.”
I know. But what’s not okay is to use my magic on his people just because I can’t control my own emotions or resist the stupid side effects of my own damn magic. However, I can’t tell Draven that. I’m supposed to make his life easier. Not add more weight to his shoulders.
So instead, I say, “I know. I just don’t want to think about it right now.” Clearing my throat, I turn back to the two stone pyramids. “Back during the Atonement Trials, you mentioned that they died of natural causes when you were around sixty?”
Draven, who must sense that I need something else to focus on, watches me for another second before shifting his gaze to the stone piles as well. “Yes, that’s right.”
“They must have been pretty old when they had you then.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a fond laugh that makes my heart clench painfully again. “They were… free spirits.”
