Sins of Mine - Mary E. Twomey Page 0,65
funeral.”
I let her feed me the grape, a few apple slices and a spoonful of oatmeal. It’s our habit as of late, where I’m overly concerned with her health, ignoring my own, and she’s always preoccupied with mine. Poor Gray has had his hands full with us both, making sure we’re at least functional for the many meetings that just keep on coming.
I let her feed me because she needs to, and she doesn’t refuse Gray or me when we hover too closely over her. The dysfunction is necessary, but temporary. I hear this is what grieving is like. At least that’s what everyone keeps telling me.
“You set me free, you know,” I tell her when her eyes mist over. “By protecting me like you did in the cabin, you stopped anyone from being hurt by him ever again.”
I know her pain well, because it matches my own. There’s the grieving over your father, who is a man no one else is sad to lose. Then there’s the fear that I might turn on her because she killed my father. It’s anxiety mingled with grief, and in just a few minutes, our every movement will be on display for the entire world to judge.
She doesn’t push away the logic, though I can tell she wants to. Instead she nods, and folds herself into my arms. Her head rests on my shoulder, where it belongs. “You set me free, too. You and Gray both. It’s just a matter of getting through today.”
When Sloan and Gray come to fetch us minutes later, we still haven’t had the strength to break our embrace. “Come now, kids. It’s time.”
Arlanna makes a point wherever she goes in public to never be escorted on a man’s arm, even Sloan’s. She’s been a queen her whole life.
My mum’s ring burning a hole in my pocket is the one missing piece.
Sloan leads the way down the many halls of the palace. He’s made himself comfortable since he moved in this week, along with Arlanna and Gray.
Charlotte and Cassia opted to run the Commune of Sinners and stay in Arlanna’s house at the camp, though they’ve come by every day since we moved into the palace. It’s odd living without those two, but they’re fulfilling their destiny by giving all the ex-cons purpose and protection.
Arlanna walks behind Sloan, and then I follow her. Gray trails behind, keeping an eye on us all, as is his custom. The four of us have settled into something that doesn’t need words to make it real. We’re a family, which is something we all desperately need right now.
Sloan is the man the three of us have been turning to for the big decisions when we’re too overwhelmed to see straight. And we are the children Sloan never took the time to have.
The violins greet us with their sad funeral dirge. The caskets of Conan and my father have been laid out since dawn so the entire world can pay their respects—some beforehand, and some after. The sea of faces all peer to get a look at us as we enter onto the platform that gets set up and torn down on the front steps of the palace for occasions such as this. There’s no venue large enough for everyone to gather, so they come to the front lawn of the palace to do their grieving, stretching down the road as far as the eye can see.
Only there’s not a tear in sight. People are craning their necks to get a good look at Arlanna and me, but no one seems to be all that sad that our fathers are dead.
It makes sense, but my heart is too heavy to do much more than simply stand at the foot of my father’s casket. Arlanna is directly across from me, her head bowed at the end of her father’s matching casket.
The men who spent their whole lives battling are laid out head-to-head in death, with their children standing at their feet.
Sloan takes his post behind Arlanna. I can feel Gray’s strength as he stands behind me. There’s a silent power by which I’m hemmed in, knowing that my brother will always have my back—even if what’s required of him is to pay homage to a man who wouldn’t even acknowledge Gray was a person.
It didn’t need to be a joint funeral, but given their deaths, and given the extreme shift of power that will be happening in both arenas, every single soul has shown up