“Don’t apologize,” she interrupts sternly.
I purse my lips to hold it back. The instinct to take the blame is too ingrained to shake easily.
Nelly shakes her head, still with that sad smile on her face. “She wouldn’t have traded those moments for anything, Xeni. She loved you dearly.”
“And I her,” I respond quietly, the words slipping out on a breath that feels too heavy for my chest.
Despite the years that have passed, Bheera crosses my mind often.
Memories of sitting on the balcony, listening to faint music in the air. It carried from concerts in the park that I was never allowed to attend.
I think of the days helping her in the kitchen and sampling new recipes as she told me grand stories of adventure I could barely imagine, then the nights where she nursed my wounds in private after I stepped too far out of line.
She was the light in a house built for darkness.
The hope in a heart that learned too young to expect none.
The one who taught me that love could be soft and fierce all at once, without demand or condition.
I close my eye for a moment and let the ache settle. Bash scoots his chair closer and wraps an arm around my shoulders in silent support, and when I face the world again, even Cato’s expression has softened.
“It broke my heart when she disappeared,” I say, the words coming slower now. “I was never told what happened to her, but even as a child, I knew.”
“Did anyone take her place?” Nelly asks as she resumes eating, giving me space to gather my thoughts, but my appetite is gone.
“No. Father claimed he needed to replace the nonsense she’d put in my head, and for years, I never left the house.” I sigh as I sink deeper into the chair, pushing the food around on my plate. “He was determined to toughen me up, but his words and fists didn’t have the intended effect. So I was sent to military school when I was twelve, but that didn’t help either.”
I stare out the window, a darker reel of memories replacing the fond ones of Bheera. “He never publicly acknowledged me as his son. I was too weak, he said. Too easily influenced, and too soft-hearted. He tried to make me more like himself… something colder to carry on his legacy.”
I pause, shaking my head. “Sometimes I wonder if he might’ve succeeded.”
“Xen,” Bash scolds from beside me, his arm tightening.
Years of anger and shame form a ball in my chest, and the confession is like a lanced wound as it spills out. “You always say actions are what matters. Look at what Idid. Top fucking scout for the Project. Imadethem tell me. Didn’t give them a fucking choice in the matter.”
My hands shove into my hair and tug, the sting giving me a moment of clarity.
“So many people, Bash,” I say, staring at the table. “They were pulled from their homes and shipped away to be locked inside those walls… all because ofme.”
Silence falls in the room, making the alarms outside seem so much louder in the absence of other noises. I lift my hand to trace the edge of my eyepatch, and my hands shake as the thought of a razor’s bite steals my breath for a moment.
The guilt is rancid, charging my veins like sludge, and I wonder if it hasn’t rotted me from the inside out.
Wonder if it needs to be purged.
Bash repeats my name, too stubborn to leave me to my thoughts as he pinches my chin and turns my face to his.
“We aren’t defined by our mistakes, but by what we do when we realize we’ve made them. You did what you could to make their lives easier, and then you helped set them free. Everything you’re doing now is to help.”
“No, it isn’t,” I argue. “This is selfish, too, because I’m only doing it for you. The only reason I even came was to get you back.”
“I don’t believe that,” he whispers as he pulls me into his neck. “Not for a fucking second, okay? Stop punishing yourself.”
Nelly’s voice is stern as she speaks from across the table. “Do you think you’re something special, boy?”
“What?” I say, lifting my gaze to hers.
There’s no pity in her eyes, only fond affection mixed with a healthy dose of exasperation.
