MENA
He’s not going to explain a freaking thing to me, I think as his mouth settles into a firm line. Asher’s eyes appear half pissed off and half sad. He looks like he’s struggling with something, but he’s not saying anything. I haven’t spent that much time with Asher, but I can tell getting words out of him will take some engine grease and possibly a crowbar.
I think I’d rather skip the part where he has to let me down slow.
“Okay. We’ll talk about it later,” I concede with a shrug and shake of my head.
In the grand scheme of things, I have a pretty good idea of what he’ll say. I mean, honestly? Who would pick a girl like me? I’m not sure how this whole Wraith mating stuff goes, but if the man has a choice, he has to prefer a better crop than me.
I don’t need to be worrying about this now anyway. So what if I felt a connection to the first man probably ever? So what if I clung to him like a monkey on a tree? So what if I feel safe with him, a feeling I haven’t had in a very long time? So freaking what? I don’t deserve a man like him. After the lives I’ve taken... happiness just isn’t in the cards for me.
“I'm all right. It’s not going to hurt. I didn’t even notice it was dislocated before now. It’ll get popped back in, I’ll be able to heal and walk. Win-win. You can go. I’ll be fine,” I tell him, my voice sounding almost dead even to my ears. I need to cut this off as soon as possible. His face tells me he is reluctant, but he needs to go.
“Come on Asher,” Evan says at his elbow, and she escorts him from the room, practically dragging him behind her up the stairs.
My eyes are on the stairs long after he disappears from my sight. In those moments, I take the time to shore up my heart. I don’t need to rely on Asher. I shouldn’t even rely on Aurelia or Rhys or prey on the hospitality of the Wraiths.
I should do the right thing. For once, I should do what I’ve always needed to do. But I need to be able to walk to do it. I take a deep breath and turn my eyes to Ian, who is patiently waiting for me to get my shit together enough to let him do his job.
“Thank you for helping me. I will do my very best to rein in my ability. If you feel uncomfortable putting your hands on me, I will understand,” I say, my words burning me as they haltingly tumble from my mouth.
“Meh, you haven’t killed anyone yet. I’ll risk it.”
That flippant comment is like an open-handed slap in the face, so sharp I have to close my eyes to the sting. It takes everything I have in me not to cry, but a hole opens up in my chest all the same. The blistering ache of regret settles in my belly, and I have to grit my teeth against the burn. When I open my eyes again, Ian’s dark brown eyes are compassionate.
“If I could teach you to do it yourself, I would, but this can’t be done alone,” he whispers, “You’ll just have to try your best, okay?”
I nod and brace myself more against my abilities than the pain. I feel Ian’s kindness, his happiness. I concentrate on his light, refusing to let the blight that is my powers affect him. He gently places his right hand on the inside of my knee and his left on the outside of my thigh. He locks his eyes with mine and nods. I take a deep breath, nod to him to continue, and he wrenches my leg, pulling it to him first before letting it go. The joint makes a horrible squelching noise before I hear a huge pop and the bone settles back into place.
And then I promptly empty the contents of my stomach on Ian’s boots.
“Well, that hurt,” I rasp before passing out right there on the bench.
“You cannot just rely on your abilities, Mena. What if you are drained or injured? You have to learn how to defend yourself, darling girl,” Papa urges, tossing me the blade. I awkwardly catch it, fumbling a little before nearly slipping in the forest bracken beneath my slick shoes. I look at my father’s face; Aurelia and I inherited our sharp cheekbones from our father. Aurelia also got the paleness of her eyes from him.
My poor sister. Sometimes I just wish I could hug her. She is so alone in this family.
“Is there some reason I need to train for combat – which is ridiculous in its own right – wearing this silly corset?” I ask, irritated, sorrowful and marginally confused.
My mother just started making Aurelia and I wear them. She said they were what all respectable young ladies wore, and now that we were becoming women, we needed to dress appropriately. I hate them. They are tight and uncomfortable and completely unnecessary.
“I am only twelve, can’t I be a child a bit longer before the world falls in?” I only talk this way when no one is around. If my mother or Aurelia heard me be this cheeky, I am sure I would never hear the end of it.
“No. You cannot,” he nearly shouts, and I am appropriately chastened. My abilities have always been evident, even as a baby, just as Aurelia’s have, but now that our monthlies have started, we are infinitely more potent. This frightens my parents, I think – to have two children so powerful. To trust this big of a secret to a child. I don’t tell them that it frightens me as well.
That I am scared of myself.
I need to stop whining and focus on the lesson my father is trying to teach me.
“I am sorry, Papa. I know you are trying to protect me. I shall focus,” I tell him, my eyes downcast.
“Good. You know, you sounded like your sister just then,” he says, amused, and it startles me enough to snap my eyes back to him. He seems proud of Aurelia, and I think I love my father just a bit more for that. He so rarely speaks of her to me.
“All right, Papa. Show me how to use this infernal thing,” I order in my haughtiest tone, giving him a bit of my twin since she can’t be here to do it.
I wake up nestled in the softness of a down comforter, the covers pulled up to my chin, remembering that one happy memory of my father.
Before the training started in earnest. Before Aurelia was shunned. Before I killed him. I wish I would have known. I’m pretty sure I would have left back then. Saved them from the cancer that is my very existence.
A faint sizzle and crack of a fire hisses in the periphery of my consciousness, and I am aware of my body for the first time in a long time. I wish I could go back to the painless state I was in before because this is awful.
My first thought is how hungry I am followed directly by an ache in my joints so fierce my appetite dies a quick death. A soft rap on the door pulls my focus from my bones to the blonde oak door. The doorknob turns, and Aurelia’s head pops around it to check on me. Her eyes are wary, but she shoulders the door open, a tray laden with every bland breakfast food imaginable in her hands. There is toast and scrambled eggs and small golden brown cubes of potatoes.
“I figured you’d be hungry, and I brought some over the counter painkillers to help with the remnants of the pain,” she says. “We had Ian check you over while you were passed out. He didn’t find anything else during his exam, and you should be healed up in a few more hours.”
Her voice sounds like she’s saying she’s sorry, but I have no idea what she has to apologize for. As always with my twin, I never have to wait to know what’s on her mind. She sets the tray down on a wide mahogany nightstand. She sits next to me in the crook of my hip, handing me two white pills and a glass of water. I promptly pop them in my mouth and take a swig of water to wash them down.
“I’m sorry I left you to deal with that by yourself. I know it can’t be easy being here, and it’s my responsibility to make you safe. I didn’t see you before. I-I should have seen you in that hell. I should have go-gotten you out,” she says, her voice clogged with tears and guilt, the sound giving me a strange ache deep in my chest.
“Why would it be your responsibility? You didn’t shove me in that cell. As far as I can see, all you’ve ever wanted from me is to be a sister to you. I’m the one who failed you. More than you know. I have done things… Things that I wish I could take back,” I end on a whisper.
Well, isn’t that the understatement of the century?
I bite my tongue so I don’t just blurt out my sins to her. As hard as our parents were, as much as she went through with all of us, I still have no doubt she would hate me forever for what I’ve done.
“I think we’ve all done things we’re not proud of. We’ve all done things we wish we could take back. My sins are no different than yours. No matter what you think you’ve done, no matter what sins you think you have on your soul, I’ll still love you.”
All I can do is nod. Sure, she says that now, but I can’t know how she’ll react when I tell her. I can’t know… And I can’t lose her before I’m ready. I need these last few days. I look at her face. Memorizing what is already burned into my brain. The shape of her eyes, the slope of her nose, the sharp cut of her cheekbones. My eyes drift to the colorful swirls on her arms. The artist who created them makes me almost weep at their beauty. I look closer and notice slight ridges hidden underneath the pictures.
Scars.
“Your tattoos are beautiful,” I say as I reach out to touch her arm. It is a testament to how much she trusts me that she doesn’t flinch when my fingers make contact. I haven’t seen ink like this. As a Phoenix, I am no stranger to tribal markings, but these are something else. Realistic pictures mixed with brilliant splashes of color cover every available millimeter of skin from her wrist to the crown of her shoulder.
“Thank you. I drew most of them, and I had my friend Max ink them.”
“Do you think I should get my scars covered?” I ask, but I don’t care either way. I haven’t inspected my body in ages, not after the first few scars. I was vain before my incarceration. I knew I was beautiful, and it was a solace to me when my life turned from simply lonely to completely solitary. Well, I’m not vain now. I haven’t seen a mirror in half a century, and I’m not sure I want to. I look down to the exposed skin of my arms and run a single finger over the crosshatched raised flesh. I know my abdomen and legs are worse. Iva left my face alone at least.
There isn’t enough ink in the world to cover this much skin.
“I think you should do what feels right. I covered them because I needed to, but ink may not be the right answer for you. You’ll have to decide for yourself,” she tells me, drawing my eyes from my ruined skin to her face.
“When did you get so smart?” I ask.
“Fairly recently, if you can believe it. Rhys has helped me get my shit together. I wasn’t doing so well for a while there. Now that Iva is out of the picture and my Aegis finally came back, I’m doing much better.”
“Did you lose it?”
“My Aegis? Yes. Iva did something to me - suppressing it or draining me – I’m not sure which, and I was in real pain for a while. I was beginning to see why Oracles cut their eyes out if you catch my drift. When she died, it started coming back. Now, I’m as strong as I was before.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” I whisper, dropping my eyes.
“We’ll figure it out, Mena. You’re not alone anymore,” she says as she reaches for the tray piled with food and places it on my lap.
“Now eat until you can’t fit in another bite. I actually cooked, so be happy. It’s a rare occurrence.”
I choose a piece of toast, tearing off a piece and popping it into my mouth, relishing in the buttery goodness.
“Well, the toast passes inspection,” I say with food still in my mouth.
“Good. Eat up and then you can have a nice Epsom salt bath. It’ll help loosen your muscles and ease your joints. Then we get to try walking. It’ll be a hoot,” she says with a smile and cute scrunch of her nose.
I can’t be the cold one anymore. I can’t be stoic or aloof when this great surge of gratitude steals through me. I lurch forward to give her a hug hard enough to startle an ‘oof’ out of her.
“Love you,” I murmur.
“Love you back.”
I squeeze her for a second before pulling back and stuffing my face, earning me a brilliant smile.
I’m going to miss her so much.