Page 230 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
It only takes another two days of trekking–all three of us too exhausted and hungry to do anything other than forage and sleep–before we reach the other end of this aersyan island of supposedly sentient trees, and we have to cross the river again. The stepping stones rise the moment we approach the shore. Lying just on the other side is the pile of our weapons that we’d previously hid. How they ended up here, I have no idea, but I feel compelled to utter a prayer of gratitude. And thankfully, there was no need to use the knife I’d kept with me, nor was I penalized for breaking their rule.
My eyes scan the forest for Azrael’s shadow of whom there’s still been no sign, and again, I’m forced to shove away the anxiety his absence brings.
“You don’t feel your shadow nearby?”
The look on Azrael’s face tells me he’s just as concerned, as is Violette.
He shakes his head, rueful. “No. Not that I’m even certain I could if he was, at this point.”
Fuck. That can’t be a good sign.
I can feel we aren’t alone; that there are many sets of eyes on us at any given time, but I get the sneaking sensation that we are being given safe passage. Guarded or protected somehow—by whom I have no idea.
I’ve only caught glimpses of other beings—namely, ones that bear a vague resemblance to Violette—syriths. They watch from a distance, dressed in crude-looking fur and leather garments. When I spot a male that looks oddly similar to Violette, with nearly identical wings and horns, and the same black hair and alabaster skin, I can’t resist asking. “Do you know if you might be distantly related to any of them?”
Violette and Azrael glance over at me to follow my gaze. Her expression tightens. The pain in her eyes draws her gaze to some distant point. The male disappears through the trees a moment later.
“It’s possible, I suppose. She was from here, but I grew up in the city. Never met any of my mother’s family. She never spoke of them; refused to.”
Azrael’s expression turns somber. “Would you like to find out?”
Violette sighs, her steps somehow heavier as she trudges beside us through the snow. “No... Not right now.”
Azrael and I exchange a look.
“Maybe one day... ,” she adds, “After my father is dead, and I have something to be proud of.”
Oh, fuck.
The pain behind her words is like a spear to the chest. Azrael and I both reach for her hands.“You already do, princess.”
VIOLETTE
The syriths watching us don’t bother with discretion, which makes them that much harder for me to ignore. It’s like theywantme to approach them.
Levi’s question lingers in my mind.
Am I related to them?
The possibility makes me that much more resistant to speaking with them as an imaginary conversation that will never occur unceremoniously traipses through my mind, inspiring more anxiety.
How is your mother?
Dead.
What have you done with your life?
Became a whore.
I want to vomit just thinking about it.
When we reach a clearing where we could potentially stop to rest for the night, several large, dead birds are bound together by their feet and hanging upside down from a low branch. A large bundle of supplies, and what might be a tent, are rolled up beneath it.
They’re helping us.
Not that I deserve it.
Azrael and Levi scan the vicinity in the dim twilight as I stare at their gift, guilt winding through me.
