Belle Revolte - Linsey Miller Page 0,68

death in me, the knowledge of it, the weight of it in my skin, was an ache so deep that even her spectacles couldn’t keep it at bay. I kept them on anyway, and she led me to the cushioned chair. I pressed my fingers to the bridge of the spectacles, scared she’d take them off. I had nothing. Not really.

Families were supposed to love one another no matter what. That’s what everyone always said. Mine didn’t, not anymore, so what did that say about me?

“I divined my sister dying,” I said quickly. “I was five and she was fifteen, and Maman wouldn’t let me go ice skating with her because I’d gotten in trouble for hiding a broken cup instead of coming clean, so I filled her favorite bowl with water. Alaine was real good at scrying, and I’d seen her do it plenty of times. I wanted to watch her skate, but I didn’t know the difference between scrying and divining.”

I’ll be back soon. I promise.

She’d flown, quick and poised, inky hair streaming out behind her and breathing a trail of fog in the winter bite. She’d always been so free. Untouchable.

“She fell through the ice. She was so cold, the water I was using froze over too, and I could feel her in me, all that panic and water and hope, but the creek was deep and the current fast, and her nails scraped against the bottom of the ice where she’d been skating. She held her breath for a long time. Long enough to tear her nails clean off.” I closed my eyes and ducked my head. Water pooled in the curve beneath my nose and bottom of my chin. I covered my mouth with my hands. “I felt everything, and then there was nothing.”

Estrel’s hands curled around my wrists. Soft. Warm.

“The bowl broke,” I whispered. “My hands were bleeding, and I coughed up water. I got scared. I hid the bowl under the house, and I didn’t tell anyone, but they found Alaine when she didn’t come home, and Maman found the bowl, and I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t think it was real. It felt real, but like how nightmares feel real when you wake up.”

All that time. Trapped under the ice. Alone.

And I could’ve saved her.

“I didn’t tell anyone she was going to die. I didn’t save her.”

I sobbed for a long, long time till my face was hot and sticky, and Estrel left and brought back a damp cloth. She gently pulled the spectacles from my face and held the cloth to my eyes. I curled up, knees to my chest. I wanted to live in the dark behind my eyes. Estrel sighed.

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she said softly.

The bells of the observatory chimed midnight, and I ran my hand along the chair Alaine would never see in the school she would never attend.

“She should’ve been here,” I said. “She was so good.”

“Don’t punish yourself for surviving.” Estrel’s voice cracked. What necklace had she kept so close, it wore her voice away? “It’s not your fault.”

If it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, and I couldn’t bear that world.

“You’re good, you know.” Estrel touched my shoulder then my cheek, like Papa sometimes did when I was little and too sick to know who was there. She brushed my hair from my face and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “I’ve said it before, but your mind’s twisting it into an insult every time. You’re allowed to excel. There is such power in you that you could make Demeine tremble, and you shouldn’t feel ashamed of that. You are not the people who love you or the people you’ve lost. They’re parts of you. You are so much more than you’ve been led to believe, and you could be better than me. Don’t limit yourself. Please.”

“I can’t be better than you,” I muttered, unsure of what to do with all her words. “You’re the best.”

Estrel laughed. “Fine, but let’s make you second best, agreed?”

I nodded.

“People are going to underestimate you,” she said. “When they do, teach them not to do so again. They will not give you respect. Take it. Make them regret disregarding you.”

I would. For Alaine. For Gabriel. For Macé. For Emilie. For all the rest I’d see.

For me.

Fifteen

Emilie

The Stareaters scattered first, a red stain against the blue sky. I looked up and paused, and Rainier stopped behind me. It was late afternoon, sunlight and shadows stretching

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