ones who’d given their lives so my father could rule another day.
I saw my mother, treading the Pink Sea beside me, the shine draining from her copper scales.
I saw my cousins laying down the oars of their canoe, faces turned heavenward, staring.
That day was the first time I understood that magic did not make us immortal.
For the past four years, I’d tried to keep the memories at bay, pushing them away as soon as one poked to the surface, but as I upended the can, I allowed them in.
I welcomed them in.
40
Goodbyes
A stillness settled over me as I set the empty watering can down beside my bent knee. Cool sweat beaded down my spine, but I didn’t shiver. Remo’s mouth spilled words, but none reached me.
Kingston was still alive, but he wouldn’t stay alive. If the water failed its purpose, I’d find another way to execute the executioner. I was driven by a single thought: vengeance. It had steadied my arms and honed my focus.
His lashes fluttered and then his chest gave a violent shudder. He stared at me. I searched for repentance inside his eyes but found only terror.
I hated what he’d turned me into, but I hated him more.
So when his flesh finally turned as leaden as the cliffs choking the valley, I didn’t gasp.
And when he exploded, I didn’t flinch.
I sank through his dissolved body and into the ashen sand, completely and utterly numb.
I didn’t feel Remo’s hands cradling my face, skimming down my neck, going around me. I didn’t hear what he was saying, just saw the edges of his words on his lips. He kneeled before me, crushing Kingston’s remains under his legs, and pressed me into his chest.
The sharp beats of his heart finally brought me back.
I smelled the salt and steel of his fight.
I heard his tongue stroking my name, not the one he’d given me, but the one my parents had.
His callouses scraped my spine, and his breaths warmed my skin.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” My tone was emotionless, the dam I’d erected still holding.
Remo pressed me away. “I’m going to go check.”
“Check?”
“Turn around.”
My heart stilled. “Why?”
“You know why, Trifecta.”
When I finally shuddered, he stroked my jaw, careful not to graze the bruised flesh.
“I’ll be right back.” Another slow caress. “Wait for me here, okay?”
I looked at the ashen sand, not wanting Remo to leave. “If he’s really dead, a plant will grow.”
“Maybe it doesn’t work like that here. Besides it would take time, and I don’t want to waste another minute on Kingston.”
I bit my lip, but it stung, so I released it. My uncle had broken my skin but hadn’t broken me.
Remo called out Giya’s name, and I turned toward where she now sat, silver eyes blinking from behind clumped locks.
She rose and took Remo’s place next to me. And then she curled her arms around my back and held me as he vanished from my line of sight. He must’ve stayed in hers, though, because, a gasp pulsed from her mouth just as a wet grunt followed by a quiet thump sounded behind me. My chest tightened, and I shut my stinging eyes.
When I dared a glance over my shoulder, Remo was gone, and in his place, was a mound of dust sprinkled through with drops of scarlet and topped with a soiled machete and a bloodied pen.
My lashes clumped, which was ridiculous, because I knew he was coming back.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing someone die,” Giya said, as she helped me stand. Her gaze skipped from one patch of gray sand to the next. When I shivered, she tightened her grip on my shoulders and tugged me closer to the water. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to steep in this little pool until I wrinkle like a dried gladeberry.” She sniffed her arm and shuddered fiercely. “I reek of Kingston and of fish guts, although that may be one and the same. Gejaiwe, how did I not make the tigri flee?”
My teeth chattered behind a fleeting smile. “Aloe. S-Soap.” I pointed an unsteady finger at the curly yellow plants.
When she slipped away from me, I locked my knees so I wouldn’t fall. My hand thumped limply against my thigh, and my gaze, like my fist, drifted downward, landing on the red apple. On her way back, Giya crouched and picked it up. The carved flesh had filled in and the crimson skin reformed.
I wanted to smash it.
Burn it.
But Quinn would