Hadhi stomped out to the veranda and around the right of the palace, where even the light from within could not touch her. She leaned against the railing, squeezing the stone fixture until she thought it might shatter beneath her hold.
I wonder now if he wasn’t hiding you from me.
A hiccup escaped Hadhi, and with it, a sob. There should be nothing in the world capable of making her miss her father. But the words stabbed at her, each jab chipping at the stone Hadhi within who guarded her secrets, her monstrous heart.
“Hadhi.” Noam’s hand fell on her shoulder. She jerked away, pulled herself further into the darkness. “Don’t cry.”
“Go away,” Hadhi hissed, looking around to make sure no one else was out here. “You should not be here.”
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
“You should. It is working!” Hadhi laughed bitterly and felt her face growing wet. Why could she not make herself wipe the tears away or make them stop? “Your instructions got me the attention my mother wanted. Better!” Her voice screeched, breaking as she tried to force joy into it. “Who would have known Sour-Faced-Hadhi could attract a king?”
“Don’t call yourself that,” Noam ordered, his voice vibrating with anger.
“Why not? You—do not know me, Noam.” Hadhi laughed bitterly, coming undone with the fear and the sorrow. “You think you do because you make me smile or because you saw that there was more to me than one expression. Because I shared a piece of my past with you. But you do not know me. I am Sour-Faced-Hadhi— my father’s monster.”
“Hadhi, I’m so sorry.” Noam rubbed a hand over his face, and he walked to the railing, limping a bit, as Hadhi backed further and further away. “I never meant for this to happen.”
“Oh, I believe that.” She spoke with growing agitation. “Who could have foreseen it? An unremarkable catching the eye of the king. No one!”
“You aren’t un—“
“No! Not no one,” Hadhi screeched. If Noam said anything kind, said she was beautiful or interesting, or anything but sour and angry and ugly, she might just split the heavens with her rage.
Why shouldn't you be happy?
She knew better than to let herself want such things. She knew better, but she let her guard down, and now Baba would be proven right. He was dead, but still, his words and his lessons loomed over her darkening her every moment.
There is no such thing as love, monster.
Why did he always have to be right? Why could his voice not have died with him? Why could his evil not have burned out of their lives, along with his body. Why could she never be happy? Why could she never be loved? Why could she not love her sisters and have them love her? What had he known that she did not? What—was—wrong—with—her?
“My father knew!” Hadhi laughed. She leaned against the wall of the palace as the twisted, painful hilarity overtook her. “My father,” she felt the rage untangling her tongue as nothing else ever had. “Who laughed as Asha named me sour-faced-Hadhi. Who called me ugly and stupid and berated my every word when I could not learn his precious Fairy well enough. My father, who smiled as he watched me nearly die and then took credit for a rescue I had not needed!” Hadhi snarled, wanting Noam gone. Wanting him to see the evil and leave now so she could fester alone in her rage. “My father who said I was useless when he spoke with other men and told me I would be his monster when there was no one else to hear. My father knew the...” she broke off, searching for the words as her stomach roiled in disgust, and anguished tears sprayed the air. “He knew... the pull of such a woman. What is that?”
Hadhi marched forward, right up to Noam. His arms were braced on the railing, but as she approached, he reached a hand out. She side-stepped him, and his expression shut down. She wished she could regret it, but she was too consumed. Her being was an angry swirling mass of pain and sorrow and disgust. Her skin was crawling and her soul screaming. She could not bear to be touched. Not now. Not ever.
“What is the appeal of a sour-faced, unremarkable monster?” She begged the answer with a tiny hysterical laugh. “I do not understand. Too stupid, I suppose.”
Hadhi waited. It seemed that Noam would just stare at her forever, his eyes seeming as anguished as her own. At least he made no attempt to correct her. She could not have borne that. After a moment, his eyes fell away, and he swallowed.
“You are strong.” The words came out hoarse, and he had to cough to clear his throat. “What would appeal to King Enzi is the challenge—of breaking your spirit.”
Hadhi giggled and caught her breath, her hand rushing to cover her mouth as she fought the sobs that wanted to escape. But she could not hold back the laughter or the tears racing freely from her eyes.
“Oh, I hate him. I hate him so much.” She laughed.
“Hadhi.” Noam caught onto her shoulders; she did not shake him free this time. What was the point? She had no control over anything. She never had. Any moment she had felt in control was an illusion. And it was not as though Noam’s warmth could reach past her skin. She was all, and only cold —hard. “Run away with me. I will take you anywhere. He can never have you.”
Hadhi laughed even harder, unsurprised when Noam’s hands fell away. “I did not mean the king.” She shook her head; this should be obvious. “I meant my father. Zuberi. A great man! Right hand of the king. Weapon of the king. I hate him,” the words came out as a sob, wanted to be a scream, but she did not have the breath.
“I thought it would go away when he died. I thought I might like him better in death, come to love him perhaps, like you love yours.” She chuckled through her tears, watching Noam’s eyes grow round and nearly frightened. And she had not even told him the half of it. “You do not know me. But he did.” Hadhi’s hand climbed into her hair, shoving the hot mass up off her face and gripping it so tight she was nearly pulling it out of her skull. “I was his monster. He was hiding me, biding his time.” She bent at her waist with laughter, but that was not far enough.
The hilarity dragged her down into a crouch. She released her hair to hold onto her ankles with crossed hands and panted as if she had run for miles. How she longed to be someone else. To be anyone else.
“I hate him so much. But he was hiding me. I should be grateful. I should love him for hiding me, right?” Hadhi asked, her gaze searching the stone walkway for answers.
“No!” Hadhi shouted, answering herself. “It was not for me! Not because he loved me,” she shook her head, could not see the world before her, only her father’s eyes the last time she saw him, that look of betrayal and...pride. “He did not love me! I was just his monster, that’s why he hid me,” she whispered.
“Hadhi.” Noam said only her name. He knelt in front of her and closed her into his arms. It should be comforting, warm, and beautiful. He cared for her. But Hadhi could not feel it. Could not feel anything but the rage, and the fear and the horror—Baba was right. He was always right.
“I am glad he is dead, do you understand?” Hadhi insisted. “I celebrate that. The world is better for it. I am glad he is dead. I am glad. I am glad.” She repeated it over and over, lost track of how many times she said it, the words lost meaning. She just lay there, with her head against Noam’s shoulder and tears streaming down her face, repeating the words. “I am glad he is dead.”
“It’s alright,” Noam whispered every time she said it. “It’s alright.” Then, at last, when she was too tired to speak any longer, he said it again. “It’s alright, Hadhi. I love you.”
And something broke within her. Came completely undone. Her sobs returned, powerful and aloud, shaking her to her core. She felt it all rising within, loneliness, anger, resentment, hatred, self-loathing, but over it all, fiery and bright and at last— love.
It was beautiful, and she wanted to reach out and pull it into her heart. But her heart was an ugly thing. There was no place for such beauty in her.
There is no such thing as love, monster. Not for creatures like us.
Hadhi fought with everything in her, shoving out of Noam’s arms so suddenly he tumbled back, striking his head on the railing. His eyes popped open, wide and wounded. She backed away, shaking her head, and pushed to her feet.
“You do not know me,” Hadhi whispered once more and took off running around the veranda. She did not stop running. Did not look back. She just ran. And ran. And ran. Perhaps she would never stop.
