Page 68 of Mother of Death and Dawn

“You don’t remember. I know.” Another scoff, this one more violent than the last. “I should have known it was a ridiculous thing to hope for.”

“I would give you that, if I could,” I said.

Was that true? If it was, why hadn’t I done it in the last ten years?

Brayan and I had always had a… complicated relationship. Even with my incomplete memory, I understood that—I understood it the moment I saw his face. That past, even the past I didn’t remember, tainted our every interaction. But I wouldn’t have left him completely alone like that.

I wouldn’t have.

Right?

The clock ticked, deafening.

“How did it happen?” I asked, quietly.

I didn’t realize I was going to speak until the words were already leaving my lips. And in that same moment, the voice in my head again warned,You do not want to open this door.

He turned to the window, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ryvenai rebels,” he said. “Angry about father’s loyalist stance during the war. Perhaps angry because of… our positions in the military. They came to the house one night. Took their revenge. The war was practically over by then, after the crown’s victory at Sarlazai. Pointless.” His words were cold and tight. “Everyone had been dead for hours by the time they were found.”

I was suddenly dizzy. I sat on the edge of the bed, steeling myself against an onslaught of horrible images.

It was strange to hear of something so intimate to my life as if it was something that happened to a stranger, as if being reminded in the first moments of the morning of something terrible that had happened the night before. Even now, even with my incomplete mind, the grief had always been there. Now, I had to brace myself against the sudden strength of it.

I took a moment to ruminate on this new puzzle piece. Killed by Ryvenai rebels. A meaningless, destructive revenge.

Something about the shape of its edges didn’t seem to fit right, made a part of me think,No, there is something else missing here.

But you don’t want to open that door.

“I wish I had been there,” Brayan muttered, as if to himself, then let out a long breath and turned to me. I had glimpsed a rare moment of Brayan out of control. Now his careful composure clicked back into place, piece by piece—his shoulders lowering, back straightening, hands unclenching.

“That’s enough of this,” he said.

I wondered if he was talking to me or talking to himself.

I couldn’t pretend that I wanted to continue the conversation. What would I say? I had no explanation for myself, and Brayan knew it, too. But though he carefully tucked away all that anger, I looked down and saw a chasm between us so wide and deep that I felt like a fool for not noticing it before.

We left early in the morning, so early that Sella and her household weren’t even awake yet. Brayan didn’t say goodbye. But before we left, I scrawled a note on the library table.

Sella-

Thank you for everything.

We’re glad life is treating you well.

If your daughter ever needs anything, know that she can come to me.

-Max

Maybe it was a stupid thing to do, given the circumstances. She seemed like she had everything here that one could want, and hopefully she would never be in a position where she needed help from a half-mad convict like myself.

But just in case. Just in case she ever found herself alone in the world. Everyone deserved, I figured, a thread back to their past.

Brayan and I didn’t speak on the boat out to Threll. After last night, there wasn’t much to say.

CHAPTERTWENTY

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