Page 63 of The Blade in the Ashes
“Kent.” My name was a breath against her full lips.
The house was quiet, the only sound being that of the cracking wood in the hearth. And yet, it was cold. Despite the raging fire, there was a noticeable chill that fell over me as I stepped over the threshold.
The cold of sadness.
“Kressida?” I demanded, looking up the staircase that led to the room Kreyana shared with her twin sister. There weren’t any emotions leaking out of the top floor of the house, though. Kressida and Mother weren’t here.
Kreyana bent to the ground, picking up the shattered pieces of the bowl as she avoided my gaze.
“Ouch!” she hissed as a shard sliced open the tip of her finger. We both remained still, watching the blood bead there for a second before she sucked it into her mouth.
I ignored the twinge of pain in my chest as I bent down and helped her collect the tiny, fragmented porcelain pieces.
A wave of concern pushed into me as Rankor stepped into the house, and I pushed his feelings away forcefully, shutting down the small connection that had formed between us.
“She’s in town, making preparations.”
I felt my heartbeat skip. “Preparations for what?”
Somehow, I already knew the answer as she lifted her head and met my gaze.
Her dark eyes were wide, but serious—too serious for someone still so young. She sighed, setting down the pieces of the bowl she’d gathered, to rest her hand on my shoulder. Gods, she looked so much like my mother when she did that.
“She’s preparing for the memorial.”
I lost control.
Magic rushed in me so forcefully that I fell backwards, my wrists and tailbone stinging as I caught myself. My throat tightened as a torrent of emotion flowed through me. I choked on the metallic taste of it.
“What?” I didn't quite recognize the sound of my own voice.
Kreyana tilted her head, her sympathy pounding into me. I couldn’t tell where I ended and others began. Were these emotions mine, or someone else’s? I could barely even disentangle the strands enough to tellwhatthey were feeling, let alone who was feeling it.
Sadness.
Worry.
Despair.
Fear.
Was that Rankor’s pity or Kreyana’s?
Was it her grief or… mine?
I felt Rankor stepping closer to me as her eyes filled with tears and her fingers reached for mine. “Mother passed in her sleep two nights ago.”
No fire could have warmed the chill that remained within the hollow of my chest.
Not the fire in the hearth, which Rankor had taken responsibility for maintaining.
Not the torches that my sisters and I had carried as we marched through the town square, leading everyone in the village towards the dock.
Certainly not my mother’s funeral pyre, which had long ago sailed out on the ocean waves.
No, that unfeeling ice had remained rooted deeply inside me as I’d sat on the beach well into the night watching the pyre disappear in the distance. I’d watched it until it was so small I had to squint to make out the shape. Eventually, the flames died out, and then there was nothing left of my mother.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to move away from the empty beach.
