He nips at them, and I kiss him back eagerly.
“Harlot, your mother… how old was she when she became pregnant with you and your brother? Did she ever tell you?”
“Hmm… I believe she said 18, why?”
I look at the papers in his hand.
“Her written age is the only one that looks like it was written down wrongly, erased, rewritten, and tampered with. The five got reformed to an eight. Do you see it as well?” I stare at the numbers, seeing the thin lines connecting, turning the 35 to 38.
“But if my mother were 18…”
“It means you and your brother are at least 20, Harlot, assuming your mother did not lie about that.”
I do not miss the disdain in his voice.
“I know the thoughts are becoming more permanent; the desire is becoming a need, a need to kill your brother. I can feel it, the urge brewing within you; it’s burning, and I do not know how much longer you can keep your claws in. If this is true, and you are indeed already 20, you should find your soulmate. Your brother has already connected and sealed his fate. I will not risk losing you. I’d rather feel the pain of a thousand knives gutting me inside out and skinning me alive daily than losing you entirely to this damn curse, living my life without you.”
I hear the hurt and despair in his voice.
“Find my soulmate?” I repeat.
“I don’t want that damned cursed soulmate; I want you, Emrys. Only you, it will always be you.”
He looks at me with a pained expression. “You’ll feel different once you meet him, but it’s better than not having you at all. We’ll visit Verdant Fields first; it’s the second-largest city in the North. There are humans there. I’ll pack some things.”
He brushes past me, lost in thought, leaving me alone to process that I’m apparently two years older than I initially thought and need this soulmate to survive. A soulmate I never asked for, one I do not want. I swallow the saliva that forms in my throat and ignore the tears threatening to spill. I look over the page once more, seeing our ages appear: 20. It reveals a hidden truth, as if it is only for me to witness. I didn’t know the book was a sentient being. Then I notice the soft outline of the Deathhawk moth underneath Fynn’s name, as if fate itself scorns me—a lure to entice me to find this damned soulmate of mine. The moth appears to be a marker for those who remain alive; Fynn is unknowingly ahead in this race for survival.
I wonder how much Fynn truly knows, whether his Death Witch has any insight into this curse of ours, and if she has, will she share that information with Fynn? Even now, after finding his soulmate? When I indirectly told them they were soulmates, their perplexed faces told me he was not aware of that part. Not that it matters; he has found his in Emrys’s forest of all places, another jab by the universe, while I have no aspiration of finding mine. The mere idea of dividing my love, or even being capable of loving someone to a level that comes close to the way I love Emrys, makes me feel sick to my stomach. Especially the fact that it is involuntary. The love I will feel for this person won’t be real; it will just feel real. I’m unsure if I’d be able to distinguish the emotion as pretend. Again, I am coerced into a situation I did not choose; once more, I am held hostage against my will after finally finding the freedom and belonging I have been yearning for, all because I am born into a cursed bloodline. A family destined for tragedy, where happiness is only short-lived. I wipe away my tears. I refuse to give in to all of this. By bonding with Emrys, I picked my own fate willingly. I belong with him, and I want to be with him.
“And you will,” he whispers in my ear.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I smile.
“I’ll be louder next time. I didn’t mean to disturb your thoughts,” he says.
He gently kisses my tear-streaked cheeks.
“We’re in this together, my little tempest. Sorry for leaving you alone like that. You and me. We’ll figure out how to break this curse.”
“I packed some belongings; we’ll go to the city tomorrow morning; the sooner we find this…human, the better. You need to even out the playing field with Fynn, and you can only do that when you, too, find your… soulmate.”
“What is Verdant Fields like?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Verdant Fields… It’s unlike anything else you’ve seen or traveled through; I’m certain of that. The city is vile and relentless, but despite that, it’s one of the few cities where humans can build a life of their own, free of terror from darklings, when willing to be even more cunning and ruthless. You will see your kind abusing other humans for their pleasure, for their survival. Murder happens on the streets, and no one bats an eye. It’s a city I’d rather not visit; there’s no culture, no… rules, and there never will be. Its citizens prefer it that way, and… the other cities and towns rely on Verdant Fields… produce, I guess you can say. The products you see being sold on the square, for example… all of it comes from Verdant Fields.”
I stare at Emrys in disbelief. I have wondered where it all comes from, but it never crossed my mind that it originated in one city—a city where the supernatural and humans coexist, often selling out to one another. I am both curious and terrified about experiencing the city myself.
DIARY ENTRIES:
We’re going to try it anyway, we are going to find a loophole for your bullshit, and you will hate me for it, but you can never hate me more than I hate you. You are putting me through this ordeal, so it’s only fair that I try to destroy you as you are trying to do to me. I hope you’re ready.
Are we stressing you out? I can feel the compulsion to write becoming stronger. Don’t worry; whenever I am up to something, I’ll write it down. How can I not be with you around? There is no need to force me, you asshole.
A Bond with Tears
HARLOT
Chapter 9
