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THE KILGANDAER FAMILY was small, but bright, against the mist and dark stone of their lands, not only in coloring, but in their energy. They reminded Evyn of lighthouses.
Valynce, though younger, appeared slightly more calm and confident than Ferrin. She’d been just as enthusiastic to greet him as he’d been to greet her, but she felt unshakeable in a way that surprised her. It especially intrigued her when in stark contrast to the nervous energy Ferrin tended to give off. She also couldn’t help noticing the tips of her fingers containing the flames of a fire mage, hers a beautiful shade of red that sometimes flickered purple.
And their mother, Hortensia, as Evyn had been told to call her, was both bold and yet graceful. She’d noted the wolf motif, not only with the obsidian busts at the bottom of the stairs outside, but in door carvings and tapestries. Hortensia felt the most like a wolf of the three, but truly she reminded Evyn of a hawk, with the smoke-tipped fingers of an air mage.
The Dowager Duchess led them immediately toward the dining halls after learning of Arrius’ adamant request for refreshments, and Evyn found herself constantly in confused awe of her surroundings.
Despite the warm light that the Kilgandaer family possessed, the manor itself was cold and stately, with its thin slices of windows, dark tapestries, and lanterns hung from the mouths of brass wolf busts. It felt austere... even lonely.
She supposed that was what it meant to be a Duke in South Galvany, inheriting lands and titles like pieces of ancient armor, even if they didn’t fit or had rusted over with time. But in Meaval, the duke’s estates were bright, garish almost. She wondered if their duke felt more as though he’d been layered in too much powdered sugar, laced with political poison.
It fascinated her that the love she saw amongst Ferrin and his family had been cultivated in a place like this. She clasped one hand across her waist to hold her other arm, feeling cold and uncomfortable suddenly. The thought crossed her mind then, that despite the wildflower fields and sunshine-laden rooms of her childhood, she never had what Ferrin had, what the Kilgandaers had.
Evyn rolled her lips, swallowing against a lump in her throat.
Thankfully, no one was paying her any mind at the moment. Arnes walked up ahead with the Dowager, speaking in hushed tones, while the rest of them all pestered Valynce with questions about how Ferrin was when he was younger. He blushed from forehead to chin, shaking his head, but still smiling.
It felt good to see him smiling, and to see Otsana here with them. When she had the chance, she had to apologize again for her blundering. She still felt that shame echoing inside her, tightening her abdomen.
For a moment, just a small moment, she felt hollow and alone.
She wanted to leave. Find a cave in the woods and crawl inside forever. Again, she felt the sharp and overwhelming absence of all things familiar. No cottage in the woods, nor Enloris, just people who needed her to always be at her best. Better than her best, even.
It was exhausting, and that thought made her more ashamed than anything else.
They finally made it to the dining room—a more casual one, they’d been informed, though large glittering chandeliers hung above a table set for at least twenty people, where food was already being brought in from the kitchens. Evyn, however, had lost her appetite.
She plucked up the little bit of courage and strength she had left, and approached the Dowager.
Evyn bowed slightly. The Dowager dipped her head, as well.
“Miss Evynria, wasn’t it?”
“Lady,” Ferrin corrected.
Evyn shook her head. “I haven’t been to court in some time, so it’s no matter, Your Grace.”
“Oh, please, Hortensia, as we discussed,” she said, waving her hand in the same way Ferrin had at the palace.
The sight made her smile a little, but she barely felt it. “Hortensia. I was wondering if one of your staff could lead me to a room? I think the spell that brought us all here took a lot of my energy.” It was a lie, of course, the amulet provided all the energy, but no one could prove that.
“Oh, yes, of course, dear,” she said, clapping her hands lightly. A staff member in black livery with a gold embroidered wolf on the breast of their jacket stood at attention just behind the dowager’s shoulder. “Take Lady Evynria to the Evergreen Suite, please, and bring her some of Valynce’s clothes to change into. You two seem similar in stature.”
Evyn bowed again, knowing it was merely common courtesy to lend foreign guests clothing, allowing them to blend in more comfortably. “Thank you, Hortensia. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. Should you need anything, want anything, you need only ask.”
She smiled again, avoiding Ferrin’s look of concern, and followed the staff member out of the dining hall.
After being led down a series of hallways, she felt the last bit of her strength dissolve like sugar in hot tea. Tears began to spill and she had to hastily wipe them away in case the staff member turned around. She just had to hold out until she’d reached her room, and then she could let it go.
They took her to a rather large suite, with a giant four poster bed that could fit at least five people. The room, like the rest of the manor, was dark in coloring. A plush forest green rug took up most of the floor space, designed with tan flora and fauna vignettes around the edges, and despite its intimidating size, the thought of sleeping on the bed sounded rather inviting. Before she jumped into its burgundy embrace, however, she needed to bathe the sweat and tears away.
“Would you like me to show you the bathing room?” the staff member asked, almost reading her mind. They were a tall and gangly person with dark red hair and a somber face.
“Yes, please,” she replied, following them to a set of double doors on their left.
Deep blue wallpaper and black marble floors run through with white lines of cream quartz greeted her, matching the rest of the home’s dark motif. Even the clawfoot tub looked to be made of a charcoal gray pewter. The staff member showed her how to use everything and offered to stay behind to help, which she declined politely.
As soon as they left her suite, Evyn began to strip her clothes. She only had her belt and jewelry to place on the little side table beside the bath. Numbly, she dragged down her black trousers, pulled off her white tunic, removed her undergarments and socks.
She sniffled, her tears resurfacing.
This time, she didn’t hold back. She let the waters of her pain flood into her limbs, her veins, out of her eyes and nostrils and mouth. Her face contorted and her body curled in on itself, making it smaller and smaller with each sob that wrenched from her body, her hand hanging onto the edge of the tub so she wouldn’t drift away into the storm of her feelings. Her other hand dug its nails into the skin above her heart, somehow both guarding and attacking the precious organ.
Perhaps if she could reach inside and clench her heart in her hands, the pain would stop, the feelings would be wrung out, leaving behind a dry husk in its cage of bones that had failed time and again to guard it, even from her—especially from her.
She sat on the cold marble floor, pulling her knees up and wrapping them in both of her arms as she cried into the shadowed cave of her body.
Alone.
The earthquake of loneliness had found her again, shaking her faulty foundation, revealing all the rot still beneath. She discovered it in pieces. Digging and digging, searching for bedrock to build on going forward, and finding only roots and vines that would invade and drown the house later.
Enloris, the man she’d clung to like a piece of home, the man she’d trusted to always be by her side, had hoped would love her, had left her.
Her family... She had no true family. Her father couldn’t be trusted. Her mother had never once shown her love, nor comfort. Her brother was gone, and before she’d healed him, had been her worst enemy.
And today, she’d hurt one of the only people who had ever been there for her. When Otsana had needed her most, she’d failed her. She felt shame down to her marrow, worthlessness crowding inside of her.
What could she possibly be needed for? She had all of this immense power and yet she felt so helpless, so unworthy of it.
Her limbs weakly dragged her up and into the bath, splashing some of the water over the lips of the tub as she clambered in. The water was warm, just on the verge of painful, and she let it sink into her cold flesh, let it bite her and seep in. Evyn sobbed again, before rinsing the tears on her face with the bathwater. The pain... she just wanted the pain to go away.
Evyn sank beneath the surface, submerging fully, pressing against the sides to keep her under. The silence and warmth sent shivers over her whole body. It felt much better to just focus on the water and holding her breath and the quiet surrounding her. Though her mind tried to present the memory of red bathwater, she banished the thought.
No more pain. No more pain. No more pain.
This power was meant for you.
That had been what Celestine had told her. She heard Xedara’s words too.
All of this life was created for you.
She emerged from the water just enough to let out a sharp gasp and breathe, leaving the rest of her body under. Evyn lifted a hand and summoned her light.
For some inexplicable reason, it felt easy now. Ever since she’d banished the void, she understood her magic the way she understood how to open and close her eyes. She hadn’t been practicing as much as she had been with Ylid in the woods, but she found she didn’t need to. It was just there, easily called upon.
It felt like a boulder had been cleared away, letting the river of her power run unimpeded.
She held the light to her chest, glowing like a star against the bathwater, just above her heart. With a deep breath, she pushed the light down into herself, through the armor of her skin and bones.
Evyn whimpered. The light felt painful in the same way the hot water had been, just at the threshold of her tolerance. Her intuition forced her onward, through the pain, making her flood her whole body with her own light—not to heal a bloody gash, or a broken bone, but to heal her soul, her mind, her heart.
She couldn’t hold back the tears. With every blink, they poured thickly down her face. With a silent scream, Evyn lifted herself bodily in the water as she clenched forward to help endure the pain, and that’s when she saw the water.
Pitch black tendrils circled and slithered through the bath, seeping from her. She gasped, standing. Evyn wobbled, but regained her balance. Those same dark lines in the water rippled down the front of her. Evyn looked over at the mirror on the opposite wall and found her tears were black against her glowing white body.
Her light was purging the dark—no, the rot, from her. The rot of holding onto pain, holding onto the past, holding onto the idea that she was helpless and a victim to her life.
The thought shocked her, the light telling her truths she wasn’t ready to hear.
You only worry about people leaving you, because you don’t want to be alone with yourself. Yet, you claim you want to be alone, because you do not trust anyone to truly love you for who you are, rather than what you are and what you can give. You do not believe the real you is worthy of love. You hold onto your pain, because it is comfortable, so you mistake it for safety.
Evyn could barely breathe. The thoughts swirled in her mind, each truth pushing the dark liquid from her and into the bathwater, which was now thick like tar. And still, her intuition held her hand up against her chest, forcing the light to sweep through her just a little further, just a little deeper, just a little more.
When her vision dimmed slightly at the edges, she let go, slipping down into the water again, knees banging against the base. She drained the bath, taking her dark tears with it, shivering as the warmth slipped away.
To her surprise, her body was clean. The dark rivulets that had poured down her skin, gone.
The truths rattled in her mind as she sat in the empty tub, both of them cold and drained. If she feared being loved for her true self, then what was she meant to do about that? What if she was right about not being worthy?
But that question felt hollow, forced.
Love wasn’t about worthiness. Love didn’t see someone and weigh them against others. Only fear did that. Her fear that if she loved the wrong person, they would use that love against her. Harm her. Leave her. Ignore her. Forget her.
Had this been what her light had done to her brother? What she’d just offered to do to Otsana? Divine help her, she felt so grateful that her friend had said no. Evyn wiped away what was left of her tears and forced herself to stand, though she wobbled again. Her muscles felt loose and unruly, craving sleep.
The rest of her felt better, though, oddly. Despite the harsh truths, she felt... a weight lifted.
Like the feeling one got when they scoured out infected flesh from a wound. The wound still hurt from the scraping and the prodding, and it would take time to close up and heal properly, but at least it no longer oozed and threatened.
Evyn slowly climbed out of the tub and padded to the wall where a warm, soft dressing robe hung. She wrapped herself in it with a sigh before dragging herself up into the alluring bed. The moment her body laid down, her eyes closed and she drifted easily into sleep.