Beatrix remains still for a long moment as I hug her, then pats my arm clumsily and moves to stand up. She brushes her sleeve over her damp cheeks as she rises and strides back over to the food lying across the counter. I watch in a daze as she busies herself at the counter once more, shoulders hunched, fingers trembling slightly as they gather up the bread and dried fruit.
“I’ll pack this up for you,” Beatrix says in a thick voice, then her eyes narrow on me. “Is that what you’re planning to wear?”
“Yes,” I say defensively. “Why?”
Her eyes travel from my worn boots to my thin shirt, her lips pressing into a worried line. “Thermia is colder than Vernallis, you should really take something warm to wear with you. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
I slump into the chair, mind whirling, but before I can even begin to process everything, Beatrix returns, balancing a wicker basket in one hand and a deep crimson cloak draped over her other arm. She thrusts the fabric toward me with a firm nod. “Put this on.”
I unfold the scarlet cloak, eyeing it doubtfully. “Won’t it be too long? You’ve got at least five inches on me.”
“It’s not mine.” Her hands move methodically, arranging food parcels in the basket. “It belonged to your mother. Whether that’s lucky or not, I couldn’t say. But at the very least you shouldn’t trip over the hem. Amora barely reached my shoulder—you have her stature.”
My heart pangs with something slightly painful, but I don’t argue anymore as I swing the cloak around my shoulders. Eugene pokes his head out of my satchel and gives me an assessing look before running across the table, up my arm, and settling himself in the folds of the hood hanging down my back.
Beatrix thankfully doesn’t notice him as she turns back around and hands me the full basket. She blinks when she looks at me.
“What?” I ask, feeling nervous that she’s about to drop another bombshell on me.
“Nothing,” she says, voice suddenly sounding thick again. “With the cloak and now you’ve let your hair grow out…You just look like her, that’s all.”
She pulls me into another hug, this one slightly painful. “Be careful.”
PRESENT
I’ve never liked talking.
Hardly anyone spoke out loud in the war camps where I grew up, and even though it’s been forty years since I was last there, I’m still not used to making the effort. In my experience, most people don’t have anything interesting to say. Most people talk just to hear their own voices, and would do better to shut the fuck up.
Aurelia isn’t like that.
She never shuts up either, but at least it’s always relevant. She’s direct about what she wants and isn’t afraid to voice it.
Usually, I’d admire that, except now when it’s the reason that we’re in this goddamned mess.
Earlier, I watched Aurelia walk away from me and I stood up to follow. Only then, I remembered why I couldn’t.
I couldn’t—I can’t—go after her because she would expect an explanation.
I can’t give her one.
Before I knew what I was doing, I drove my fist into the wall. Of course, that was the exact moment that Jett and Connell decided to reappear.
Connell’s lips curled into a smirk, his words slurring slightly as he looked from me to the crumbling plaster. “What, did it insult your mother?”
Jett set down the bottles in his arms and frowned. His eyes darted from the crumbling plaster to my bloodied knuckles, then up to the empty staircase. “You okay, mate? Where’s Aurelia?”
I didn’t answer either of them, just turned and walked out.
It’s been several hours now, and I’m back in the barracks, glaring holes through the ceiling above my bed. I’m exhausted, but I still can’t seem to fall asleep. My teeth have been clenched so long my jaw feels like stone, and when my tongue finds the inside of my cheek, I taste copper. I’ve chewed it raw.
I let out an exhausted sigh and turn my head toward the wall, to avoid the mid-morning sunlight bleeding through my window. Even before last night, I haven’t slept well in months—not since the last time Aurelia stopped coming to my room. I suppose I’ll have to get used to it, because I’d be shocked if she ever speaks to me again.
That’s good,I remind myself forcefully.It’s better this way.
Even in my head, the words sound like a lie.
Growing up in the camps as I did, it was normal not to get too attached to friends, lovers, or even family. You never knew who wouldn’t be coming home tomorrow, and it was easier to remaindetached. I think I’ve been living among Fae too long, because remaining distant doesn’t feel like second nature the way it used to.
