Page 79 of Of Realms and Chaos

“You look like a goddess,” Farai retorted, straightening my dress. At least we had stopped and gotten him outfits that actually fit. He now wore a fitted black pair of trousers and a tunic to match, both hugging his frame without constricting him. Two birds, one stone.

Henry shoved Farai to the side, earning a huff from the Shifter. He began parting the teal fabric, showing my upper thighs. I swatted at him, but he continued his machinations, pulling the sheer gathering of fabric from my shoulders to make them hang limply against my bicep.

The black corset that forced my breasts higher and pulled in my waist was heinous, just as the dainty black heeled shoes were. Henry looked far more comfortable in his billowing teal shirt, which was split down the center to reveal his tan chest in a similar way to what Bellamy preferred—freckles creating constellations across his skin. His black trousers were identical to Farai’s, both of them wearing black boots.

“Now, before you complain, come cut my hair,” Henry said with a sigh, grabbing my hand and pulling me to one of the rocking chairs. On the table already sat a pair of scissors, an old and worn towel draped across the back of the chair.

Just looking at them made me want to break into a fit of sobs. I could practically hear Winona’s voice as she sang while she braided my hair or hear her scolding Cyprus for refusing to let her trim his. The pain that shot through my chest seemed to make my lungs cave in, as if my body knew—just as my mind and heart did—that I was less deserving of life than she was.

Ranbir told me it was not my fault in the forest of Vesteer. I knew that he meant it, that he forgave me for that moment of hesitation which left him without vengeance or resolution. Yet, when he had pulled me close—a male who cared very little for physical affection—I thought I might never forgive myself for being the reason he lost his wife. Every morning spent trailing him as he found plants and berries and other natural medicines, each time he brought me chai, all the silent moments spent in each other’s company atop our horses—it was all replaced with the agonizing reality that I had cost him the love of his life.

“Ash?” Farai’s voice dragged me from the depths of my never-ending despair, the shocking pull a reminder that I was no longer going to be sad. No, I was angry. At Mia, at Xavier, at Sterling, at the world.

“I am fine.” Breathing deeply, I squared my shoulders and marched over to the scissors, grabbing them. Henry was already seated, the towel wrapped around him so that his hair would not stick to his clothes. We really should have done this before he got dressed, but I had a feeling that he was putting it off until the last moment.

“Are you ready?” I asked, my voice a whispered reassurance against his round ear. He nodded, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

Do you want me to sing her favorite?

It was a private offer of comfort and love, neither of which he would want acknowledged out loud. His head bobbed slightly, a soft nod that was paired with a quiet sniffle. And so, with my horrendous singing voice, I began the song, scissors slicing through the chin-length orange strands.

“In times of trouble, in moments of pain,

Remember your heart. Remember your name.

For you are grand, your worth unmatched

With your sparkling soul, so lovely and patched.

As you stumble and fall, lift yourself up.

Raise your chin. Raise your cup.

Toast to the joy, the hope, and the grief.

Cheers to the life, no matter how brief.”

By the time I finished the lullaby, Henry was openly crying, the near-silent tears causing him to shake. I backed away, noting how horrible and uneven the trim was. Still, it would have to do. Without a razor, I could not trim his beard, though I personally liked the way it made him look more fierce and rugged.

I walked around the chair, coming to stand in front of him. Sorrow would not win, nor would fear. We would find triumph, just as Winona believed. Sadness could not claim me, nor could the darkness of grief.

“Feel it all. Let it soak into your bones and burrow into your heart. You deserve this moment of mourning. But when the tears dry, we will remember the injustice, and we will fight it.” My words were meant for only Henry, but I knew that Farai, who so desperately missed his husband, would hear and internalize them. With a tenderness I rarely showed to Henry, I placed a kiss to his forehead.

“Should I be worried that the homicidal and suicidal maniac of the group is giving me emotional advice?” he asked, quickly wiping away his tears.

Flicking him on the nose, I tried to remember that I was different now. I was not sad. I was furious. I was livid. I was the monster that my enemies feared, and I would come for them.

“Ha ha. Get up. It is time to go win an army.” Henry chuckled at my words, the sound snapping everyone out of their daze. “Do not forget to bow when we make our grand claims.”

“I would bow for the cat if it meant Gandry’s army would back us,” he retorted, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards where Wrath laid on the bed. The dalistori glared daggers at Henry, his tail swishing back and forth as if he had caught sight of exciting new prey.

Eternity spare me.

With a sigh, I walked over to Farai, grabbed him by the hand, and hauled him towards the exit. As we passed the small standing rack, I snagged our cloaks as well as his faded brown flat cap and shoved him to the door. For a moment, he looked puzzled, but then the arguing began.

“You are lucky to be in my presence, you tainted little boy. I am crafted from the hands of the god who rules over Death and Creation! I am—”

“Annoying me,” Henry muttered, cutting off Wrath.

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