I nod, my lips unable to form words.
“And maybe Marcus could do it? I don’t think he’s ever done a funeral before, but I think he’d be really good at it.”
I shake my head, swallowing hard. Panic rises in me at the thought of the others seeing me like this. Of them offering me their pity, their condolences, all for me to turn around and betray them.
I fumble for a reason to give Amity, a reason why I can’t stand to let them bear any of my grief, but she simply says, “Or we could make it a more intimate gathering.”
Relief swells in my chest, and I even let out a small smile at her tendency to use words that seem so odd coming out of a child’s mouth.
“That would be perfect,” I whisper. “Actually, I was thinking I would pick you to say a few words.”
In the end, we lay the spirit of my child to rest in the soft earth, while the breeze sings my baby the lullaby I was never allowed. Amity says words I don’t hear in the moment, but somehow will never forget, then sprinkles rose petals over an empty grave.
CHAPTER 25
PIPER
“You want me to enchant your son back into loving you?” I ask, trying and failing to keep my tone calm.
Abra and I have just crossed into Dwellen, but we’ve been skirting the border for days now. At first, I thought maybe Abra was trying to evade the King of Dwellen’s forces.
But then we arrived at the warehouse.
It’s a dingy but massive building. One that looks like it would house illegal goods, what with the way the windows are boarded up and the way it looms over the hillside.
It is the type of building that houses illegal goods, by the way.
At least, I assume the bubbling vats of shining liquid scattered across the place are illegal.
I’m not sure what we’re here for exactly, but I definitely glimpsed Abra slip a vial into one of the vats and cork it before tucking it back into her robe.
I can’t get a read on her. One moment she’s intent on getting back to her son as quickly as possible, the next she’s taking detours that end up delaying us for days.
It’s almost as if Abra’s not the only one making decisions.
My hands are still bound, but I’ve been working on this rope for days now. I actually think I’m getting close to being able to slip my wrists through the widened gap I’ve wriggled.
I momentarily paused my escape attempt, though, when Abra casually dropped that, once we arrived in Mystral, I’d be enchanting her son to love her again.
Abra looks at me as if I were Amity’s age and had just asked to trek across Alondria with my friends.
“He already loves me,” she hisses. “All you’ll need to do is to make him remember.”
I huff, seeing how it is clearly my turn to talk to my conversational partner like the delusional fool she is. “That’s not how my Gift works.”
“Sure it does,” snaps Abra. “You enchanted all those poor children into trusting you, didn’t you?”
I fight the urge to tense. I’ve talked through this in my mind thousands of times. Marcus has talked me through this thousands of times.
I was as much Bronger’s victim as his instrument. I did the best I could to only take children from homes in which they were being willfully abused, and I worked hard to keep them from suffering as soldiers at Bronger’s hands.
Still. Her words sting.
Trafficker.
Kidnapper.
Child-stealer.
There aren’t any words left for her to use that I haven’t already used to berate myself.
I steel myself, refusing to allow Abra to get her claws into me.
This new development presents an opportunity, and I intend to take it.
“I’ll need to practice,” I say.
Abra’s laugh is derisive.
“Like I said, I’ve never done anything like this before. Unless you want your son to be practice, which is fine with me.”
Abra pauses, her white irises flickering with what I assume is worry. But she turns away quickly enough, dismissing me.
I use the opportunity to slip my wrists through the restraints.
And then I run.
The shadows are no help in hiding me from Abra as she and her guards chase me through the halls of the abandoned warehouse. I pound my weary feet against the creaky wooden floorboards, not even bothering to try to remain quiet.
