Page 194 of A Touch of Poison
Which I did. But then I went into the city. It was still wintry, the air crisp, but snowdrops bloomed in gardens and the sky was clear. The sun made me glad that I didn’t have to bundle myself up so fully. I left off my gloves and kept my coat unbuttoned, enjoying the chill breathing through my shirt.
I picked up supplies on my way and stopped at Kaliban’s doorstep with a basket of food.
“Where have you been?” was his only greeting.
“Oh, you know how it is.” I shrugged as I entered. “Quests for the queen, getting captured by enemies. That sort of thing.”
He shut the door behind me and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not even joking.”
I started putting the food away—by now I knew where everything went. “Is there any point in trying to keep things from you when you can dip into my thoughts?”
“You know I don’t—”
“I know. But… my request today would’ve taken us in that direction, anyway.” I took a long while arranging potatoes in their basket. “Can you eraseanymemory? Even old ones?” I’d planned to get rid of the sight of all those people in pain because of my poison, but if he could dig further back…
Being unable to remember that night had been uncomfortable, especially as shards pushed through into my thoughts at odd times, like at Lara’s funeral.
But, really, remembering had been the worst part. Those shards and then the eventual crash of it all coming together as he’d held my throat in the corridor. That was what had almost destroyed me.
If Kaliban took that memory, wouldn’t it be better? No shards could poke into my consciousness—he’d make sure they were erased rather than buried.
And I wouldn’t have that uncertainty—I’dknowthere was something bad I’d chosen to rid myself of.
It might leave me less afraid of Uncle Rufus.
So I held my breath and waited for Kaliban to answer.
“Older memories are harder. They tend to be more thoroughly integrated in thought patterns and behaviours, with more echoes—times you’ve thought about the memory. Essentially, they’re part of who you are. But I can take a look.”
I bit my lip as a flood of unshed tears blurred my vision. A life without that memory. Without the constant fucking fear.
Wouldn’t I be stronger, then? I could face Uncle Rufus and tell him all the things I thought. I’d be free of his terrible lessons.
I’d be free to be myself.
“I have to warn you, though…” His hesitance filled the room, and I blinked away my tears. “I’d have to poke into your mind more thoroughly. I might see things you don’t want me to.”
I put away the bread and straightened. “Even if I really focus on it?”
“Hmm.” He tilted his head side to side. “With the strength of your thoughts, perhaps.”
Bastian had warned me about trusting people here, but Kaliban had become a friend. Any time he’d erased my memories of Elthea’s treatments, he could’ve taken advantage and pushed further into my mind. Yet he hadn’t.
He eyed the empty basket. “You brought a lot of food today. It’s a heavy memory, isn’t it?”
The way his expression softened as he turned his attention to me threatened to bring back the tears. I bit my lip and nodded.
“The choice is yours.” He gestured to the chairs at the kitchen table where he did his work.
A life free of fear. Or at least, the fear of that night and my uncle.
I sat and eased the slightly tight ring off my finger, breathing a sigh as the sickly discomfort faded. My relief was short lived though, as I forced my thoughts to Dia and Fantôme’s open grave and the night sky above.
As Kaliban stepped behind me, my heart sped, getting louder and louder.
Soil spilling on me. The cold dampness seeping through my nightgown. The desperate need to keep still.
My breaths gasped in and in and in, but I caught myself, and, gripping the table’s edge, I counted in for five and out for six, like Bastian had shown me.
