Page 270 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
“I have waited your entire life, Raia.”
Oh gods. What is this? What is happening? What kind of sick fuckery is this?
My breath shudders out of me and the crowd beyond the stage blurs as emotion conquers me.
I was not meant for masks, court posturing, deception, and manipulations.
Why is he doing this? There are easier ways to kill me.
At my enduring silence, he removes his foot from Lucen’s back and leans towards me.
“Allow me to show you something..."
When I don’t reply, he stands, offering his hand.
I grip the leashes in my lap.
His slate gray eyes soften. “I would never harm you.”
My grip on the leashes tightens.
He nods in understanding. The sadness in his eyes is so palpable it almost seems sincere.
My father foldsus into a hallway of what appears to be an abandoned part of the palace. A thick layer of dust lines whatever paintings, sculptures, and statues that aren’t covered with sheets.
Alongside the chill in the air that creeps into my skin, there’s a gloom that seems determined to sink into my bones.
I’m more grateful than ever that Levi, Lazarus, and Azrael are beside me.
My father’s words are solemn. The grief in them is suffocating.
“This was your mother’s wing.”
My eyes lift to his as my heart stalls along with my footsteps.
“It wasourwing,” he adds pointedly.
Nostalgia and heartbreak are heavy in his gaze as it passes over our surroundings. He steps towards a large painting where a white sheet hangs haphazardly. The gilded edge of its framepeeks out from one corner. He gently tugs on it, and it slides off the frame, pooling onto the floor in a plume of dust.
And my jaw falls right along with it.
My mother stares back at me as she stands beside my father, whose arm is wrapped around her waist. Held between them is an infant with baby butterfly wings, lilac eyes, and a cotton candy whirl of black hair through which the tiny nubs of her dark horns peek through.
Akash, please just kill me now.
I cannot take this anymore.
Tears spill down my cheeks in a relentless deluge.
My father’s voice softens. “Your mother never told you the truth..."
I can’t bear to look at him. Can’t bear to even speak. If I so much as try, some wretchedly soft part of me will break free.
“Raia, I always wanted you here with me.”
The anger inside dampens my sadness. Has me grinding my teeth. Enables me to speak without my voice breaking. Steeling myself, I turn away from the painting to face him. The look on his face is grim as though bracing himself for my venom.
“There are no number of sweet lies you can tell that will make me forget your absence; nor the constant hunger in my belly and my heart because of it.”
