Page 123 of The Souls Harvest
I’m not surprised when, popping my head outside the door, I notice Merya waiting at the end of the long corridor, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
“Did you hear enough, or do you need me to repeat everything?”
She pushes away from the wall, flipping her copper hair over one shoulder. “Enough to know that my favourite baking spoon has served a higher purpose. And that,you, Crimson, have a lot of talking to do.”
Chapter 44 - Us
July
The night swept over us, silent and shy, settling our souls and helping our minds regain some lucidity after Roden’s unexpected appearance.
Once I’m sure Galen will not lose his leg, thanks to Merya’s mending skills, I end my watch with a soft kiss on my friend’s forehead. My mind has been such a cauldron of memories lately that whatever Galen and I had in Libera feels like a story belonging to strangers.
I brush away a lock of hair from his eyes, and he stirs in his bed, mumbling something that only makes sense in his dreams.
When I exit his room, the corridor’s soft and warm penumbra welcomes me, accompanying me as I descend the stairs to the ground level.
There is only one place that may stop my thoughts from stirring wildly, and forget about Roden for a little while. When I open the kitchen’s back door, it shimmers in the distance, calling me, and I can’t run fast enough to reach its shore.
When I’m finally by the lake, its surface is sostill it’s hard not to confuse it for a solid slab of glass. Mack warned me against breathing too close to it, but what if I dipped an inch of my finger to ensure this is real water?
I only need to lean forward a bit more…
“Having your memories fully back will stop you from even looking at this thing.”
I curl my hands against my chest and inhale so deeply that something acrid burns my nostrils. I immediately step away, lingering before slowly turning towards Kris.
His face carries the signs of what we all had to endure lately; there are shadows under his eyes, and his hair is tousled, but nothing seems to have cracked his smile. The same I met when he jumped off the tree, the same I glimpsed in my dreams.
“How is he?” He runs his hand through his hair and crouches over the grass that turns yellow the closer to the lake. “Let me guess—yapping, pretending he doesn’t need to be kept under constant supervision?” Kris rolls a pebble between his fingers before throwing it into the lake. It skips a couple of times, causing a trail of smoke, until the acidic waters consume it to a bunch of dust.
I step behind him. “He was asleep when I left. Mack is with him now.”
Kris scoffs, “Tabitha toyed with the idea of locking him up for an hour or two, just to be safe. But I convinced her not to…”
The sound of the grass changes beneath my feet as I step on the leaves whose life has been destroyed by the poisonous waters, and Isit next to Kris. “I saw the key around his neck—thank you.”
He shrugs, dismissing his gesture as the most normal thing to do, and lifts his gaze to the wall beyond the lake. “If Roden is really getting close, the range of protection of those keys will soon be nothing but a pleasant shock tickling his mind. It won’t stop him…”
“What about you?” I mumble, mostly to keep the Roden subject away from our conversation for a little while.
“Still here,” he stretches his legs before him, throwing his head back to study the cloudless night sky.
I copy him, testing the ground to find a soft spot. “Have you ever thought about disappearing, from everyone, from all of this?”
I regret asking when he stops staring at the sky to focus on me.
“From you?” he exhales, letting go of something he’s been holding in for almost a lifetime.
I take in his expression, unable to say anything for what feels like an eternity. His lips are slightly apart, as if the weight of his answer is still affecting him. His imperfect haircut casts a shadow over his face, yet some of his traits still manage to shine through: the straight profile of his nose, similar to Galen’s but slightly raised at the tip, his long lashes, a tone lighter than his brother’s, the smirk growing at one side of his mouth…
He huffs a laugh and bumps his shoulder to mine. “Some may say staring is rude, but you can keep going if you want. Although we have some pressing matters to discuss.”
I blink. Blink again. “Oh, my….I wasn’t—I was, wasn’t I?”
“You certainlyaremany things, July Crimson, but rude is none of them.” His subtle smile turns quickly into a roaring laugh that spreads over the lake and echoes around us.
My body responds before I can stop it, and I find myself laughing with him, shaking with the need to let go for once and feel normal again.
