“Third.” Kairi knelt by her side, her hand on Charity’s shoulder. “Are you unwell?”
“Don’t I look unwell?” Charity screamed, shaking the letter in Kairi’s face. “Dillon died getting me here. He sacrificed his life for me. Why wouldn’t they tell me? Why—”
But if Charity had made the short trek to their shanties, she would’ve seen Macy’s grief. She would’ve known. And she would’ve seen the horrible conditions they were being forced to endure.
She could’ve fixed this. She could’ve organized a candlelight vigil for Dillon, and put them somewhere nicer.
“What a horrible bitch I’ve been,” she said to no one, the tears coming quickly. “What horrible bitches my people are—putting guests in a place like this.”
Was her not recognizing Dillon’s death why her father, or why grandmama, ignored it also? They surely knew. Charity was in a daze when she came in—they were not. Why had they not honored the death of a man who fought bravely to keep their family alive? To bring the Third Arcana home?
“What is up with this place?” she seethed, guilt and anger turning her stomach. She rounded on Kairi and Hallen. “What are you hiding from? How could you possibly call yourself warriors? What do you do all day, but play with wooden swords and pretend at happiness? This is happiness?” She flung her arms wide. “Treating people like this resonates with you all? This is the identity of your people?”
Kairi’s face turned red. Hallen raised his chin.
Two fast steps and she punched Hallen in the nose. He staggered back.
She laughed at nothing, and then threw up.
“Let’s get you up,” Kairi said.
“He’s left me, hasn’t he.” It wasn’t a question.
Charity’s limbs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. This was much worse than the situation with her magic. She’d had Devon to help with that. Now, Devon had left. He’d left her, just like her mother, then John—
“What is it about me?” she whispered, tears hitting the floor. Hallen staggered out, holding his face. “What is it about me that pushes everyone away?”
“My allegiance is to you, Third,” Kairi said quietly. “To you alone. Your well-being is my duty, and thanks to the shifters, I know more about duty than I was ever taught by my peers. So I am not breaking my duty when I tell you that he didn’t want to leave you. It was killing him. I could see it in every line in his face, every movement of his body. He did it to help you. To give you a fresh start. He thinks you’ll be better off without him. They endured all this, without complaint, to help you. And your father saw it all. He internalized it. If you need an ally, turn to him. He will give you the world, Third. He has hidden his guilt, but it fills him still…and so does his longing to see the Brink again. It is there, waiting for you to call upon it.” She paused and tapped Charity’s head. “But if you plan to remake the mold of our people, your grandmama cannot get wind of it.”
Charity tried to push back her grief, and her insecurity, and her abandonment issues, and focus on the problem at hand.
“What?”
She’d probably need another moment.
“Internalize your suffering, speak to your father, and create a plan.”
“A plan for what?” Charity said stupidly.
Kairi tapped Charity’s head again. “We are warriors, Third, or we are meant to be. We do not curl up and die. We fight until our last breath. Decide your own fate, and take it.”
Kairi straightened up, her piece apparently said, and left the room. Charity’s heart ached for Dillon. For Macy, who had probably been raw with grief, wondering if Charity would come and speak with her. For Devon, who’d forced himself to walk away from their love.
Charity dizzied when she stood, and she realized she was still crying. Sobbing, actually. The pain cut down so deep that it felt like she was hemorrhaging inside.
“How could he do this?” She hugged herself around the middle, trying to grab on to Kairi’s words, but the sentiment proved slippery. “He knew my struggle with being abandoned by my loved ones. He hugged me and told me he—”
She realized he hadn’t assured her he would stay. No, he’d assured her he would do what was best for her.
That could mean a whole lot of things, subject to the speaker’s opinion. His opinion.
That sneaky bastard. That Seer had put him up to this, Charity