How could she trust anyone? Especially given the fact that her own parents had betrayed her. The very people who were supposed to love and keep her safe above all others. They had been the first to sell her out. And for what?
Her father’s vanity? The man who’d spent his whole life professing to have no vanity whatsoever had possessed more than any man she knew. He’d given up his noble-class ranking and lifestyle in order to appear meek and humble when he was the furthest thing from it. Had chosen to live in miserable penury and condemned his entire family to a bitter, horrid life that had sent her sister to an early grave from illness and exposure because he didn’t want to be mocked or called out for being a snob or rich man’s son, only to find that he was the worst sort of hypocrite. To spare himself a bit of mockery, he’d dumped twice as much on her and her sister and had killed Rachel in the process.
Because in the end, everything had been about him and how he wanted others to see him. Not reality, but how he’d wanted to appear to the community. A sick form of anti-vanity vanity. Her father wanted to appear a victim to garner sympathy from others and had used them as his tools.
That need to maintain his “standing” and sympathy in the eyes of others was what had led him to destroy his two daughters. Rather than do the right and decent thing for his family that he’d always preached to her and her mother, he’d betrayed them. When she’d needed her father most, he’d turned his back on her and sold her out for his own reputation and sick form of respectability.
“You will marry, or I will see you dead!”
And so he had.
He hadn’t even bothered to attend her funeral. So much for his lies about how concerned he was over what others thought of him, and public expectation. In that moment, she’d learned exactly how much her mother loved her. For the first time in her life, Lizzie O’Dell Moore had defied him and gone against his orders to be the sole attendee at Valynda’s burial, even though nothing save ashes had remained of her.
If only her mother had defied him sooner, when it’d mattered, and she could have helped her daughter. Then Valynda might not have died and might have survived her father’s stupidity. And Rachel might have grown up, too.
Now …
Her mother had killed herself two weeks later out of grief over what she let happen to both her girls. The guilt of what she’d done to them and had allowed her husband to do had been more than she could live with.
After that, her father had been shunned by the islanders and forced to endure the mockery of everyone knowing he’d ruined his entire family with his selfish cruelty. So maybe in the end, there had been some form of karma after all. By trying to avoid everyone’s mockery by denying his family’s money, her father had brought on his worst fears by his own actions.
Too bad he’d destroyed three innocent lives in the process.
Nibo was right. Never run from a fight or from your problems. You’d only die tired if you tried. Better to turn and face them while you had your full strength than to tuck in your tail and try to avoid the inevitable.
Lightning flickered in Circe’s eyes. “So tell me, Miss Moore … do you continue with Thorn, trusting him to keep his word and find a way to restore your body? Or betray your precious, betraying Nibo and help the Malachai so that he can destroy this world that’s never done you any favors? Or join us for our crew where we all understand you and why you don’t care about the others? Not really, and who can blame you? Hmm? It’s a hard decision, my lady. And I need an answer. What will you do?”
Valynda had no answer for Circe’s question. Her life was ever a perplexing mess, out of her control, and had been for a long, long time. Every time she tried to fix it, it seemed to only worsen.
Then worsen more.
Circe leaned forward and blew a fine golden powder over her. It literally spun and danced about in the air like a group of tiny fairies. Enchanting and beguiling, it made her head spin. Faster and faster it turned. She swore she could even hear it laughing. With a faint apple scent, it warmed her.
A sudden gasp went through Circe’s crew. They clambered forward as if they were staring at some freakish thing.
Tears blurred her gaze as the memory of insults and the screams of horror rang in her ears. It was just like that first day when Thorn had brought her back before he’d perfected his shield around her straw body and everyone who’d encountered her had seen her freakish poppet form. People were so unkind. So cruel.
And that cruelty resonated inside her now and made it almost impossible to see humanity in any other light. For, once having tasted the bitterest part of it, it was hard to ever remember the sweet. Something not helped by the fact that, rather than do the right thing, so many chose to do the wrong.
Instead of helping her get past what had been done to her by others, they seemed to rush to reinforce in her mind why the Malachai was right and the world needed to end.
It was indeed a struggle to hold on to a belief that there was good in anyone these days. That people could be helpful and kind. Adarian was right. There were far more reasons to end the world than save it.
Circe held up a hand mirror to Valynda’s face. Like the others, she gasped at what she saw.
Nay …
She must be dreaming. Or else this was another cruel joke being played on her. Aye, that was it. They were beginning to take pleasure in doing this to her.
Damn them for their futtocking cruelty.
Angry tears filled her eyes that had tearducts again as she reached to gently finger her now supple cheek.
“You’re human!” Circe was proud of herself for her work.
But Valynda wasn’t a fool. She knew well the story of how this witch had transformed men into pigs. Why not turn a pig into a woman? No one did kindness for free. So, it begged the question as to what would the witch want for this? Since she couldn’t have her soul, there must be a steeper price to be paid. “Indeed.”
Even so, she cupped her cheeks with her hands so that she could savor the sensation of feeling her own flesh. Unlike what Thorn had promised her, this wasn’t just any body, it was hers. A body she’d never thought to have or see again. “How did you do this?”
