That man had a reputation worse than his morals. Whispers said he was a former pirate from the other side of the world, brought to Malhaven’s shores in search of more gold. Others swore he’d run here to escape the gallows.
Whatever the case, he’d brought strange magic with him and used it to smuggle anyone and anything–for the right price.
“I happen to like him,” Dax said defensively, puffing up his chest. “He can handle his spirits and knows the best pubs on the entire continent.”
“Drinking with The Postman is just courting danger,” I grumbled.
“What’s with you?” Dax frowned. “You’re picking and pecking at everything. It’s like you want me to just keep repeating the same things until you decide to believe them.”
My lips pursed and my cheeks colored.
I was doing that, wasn’t I?
Seeking someone else to ease the uncertainty, like a damn youngling.
I never used to do that.
No, I’d never had theopportunityto wonder and question out loud. I’d bottled all the doubt inside of me and pretended I was in complete control.
“That’s what happens when you take charge,” I said at last, the words thick in my throat. “People will challenge you to quiet their own concerns.”
An ugly silence followed. I kept staring at the wings, afraid I’d said too much, but glad that I finally allowed myself to.
I’d let my shoulders be weighed with everyone else’s expectations, swallowing all of their fears along with mine and letting them fester until they crumbled me from the inside out.
Now that I wasn’t holding the reins for every little plan, it felt both debilitating and freeing at the same time.
Allowing someone else to have a modicum of control over such an insignificant detail should have been easier than this.
“Gods.” Dax gasped suddenly. “Is this–is this what we used to do to you?”
“Yes,” I said with more bite than I meant, turning back to him. “You all had too many questions all the time, for answers you didn’t need or could deduce by yourselves. You just wanted to hear them from someone else.”
“Huh.” He licked the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry, I never realized. I don’t like it to be on the receiving end of it.”
“Neither did I.”
He shook his head sadly. “We couldn’t tell.”
“You couldn’t tell a lot of things.” I swallowed all those unspoken hurts of the past and jutted my chin at the winged contraption. “So this thing actually works.”
“Miracle of all miracles, it does,” Dax said after a few beats of silence, swaying the discussion along with me. “I admit I was a bit hesitant, I kept staring down from the rim, thinking that would be the day I’d die. I stood there so long, I managed to nick myself in one of those shards.” He opened his left palm, revealing a deep gash which had already begun to crust over. “Damn thing is so sharp, it almost took my whole hand.”
Shards.
Blood.
Vegheara blood.
“That’s why the crater let you in,” I breathed out.
He furrowed his brows. “Because it maimed me?”
“Maybe because you gave it blood.” Ryker had said the crater always demanded a sacrifice.
Dax’s top lip curled in disgust. “Why blood?”
“It’s the Blood Brotherhood. It’s always blood.”
