Page 70 of The Sun and the Moon
All along this courtyard they’ve set up real fire-burning lanterns lighting the way to the tent and providing ambiance to the many food and merchandise vendors who have set up shop. Across the cobblestone courtyard, they’ve roped off a section for brats and beers, expanding from the normal beer garden to accommodate the heavy crowd.
“Moira’s claim that you were an excellent axe thrower once,” she says.
“Oh,” I say, huffing a laugh through my nostrils. “She’s a liar.” Sydney’s expression twitches at the word. We are abandoning the scheme, and maybe that means she wants to give Moira a chance at character redemption. I decide to brush past the look, and tell the story with as little Moira slander as possible.
“I got lucky,” I say.
“You don’t believe in luck.” Sydney’s eyes narrow.
“Touché,” I reply, fighting a grin. “The toss was all aerodynamics. But shehadtold me I would win if I got on the platform.”
“Ah, I get it. You want to pretend it had nothing to do with that.” Sydney nods, not surprised. I really wish I weren’t so predictably wounded.
“It was my idea, not hers,” I say with a flare of defensiveness. “I was angry with her about the soulmate reading and was ruining her trip as a result. So when she realized I had interest in the competition, she ran with it. She wanted me to stop brooding, and she thought if I won, I would. So she told me it would happen. She could see it or whatever.”
“And you took that to heart,” Sydney says. Somehow she doesn’t look surprised.
“Hope leads to action. Luck has nothing to do with it. I fucking believed in her despite all the bullshit.”
“And then you won,” Sydney replies. She raises her brows.
It was a nightmare having a mother who is the center of her own universe, but thereweretimes when my wants aligned with hers perfectly.
In those times, she was my fiercest ally.
“Yeah, my least favorite kind of win.” I tread lightly back over the memory. “I spent most of the afternoon watching otherstrying. Studying their form. Watching the way weight was shifted from left to right and the angle of the handle when it left their hands.”
“Ooooh, tell me more,” she says in a playfully seductive tone. It sends a thrill right through my stomach. I chuckle nervously, hoping I can deliver more goods.
“There’s a bravado to throwing an axe,” I say, and she leans in just enough that I can smell the sharp citrus scent of her perfume. “A certain steadiness is needed. I guess I had that. Because when I threw it, it landed dead center in the bull’s-eye.”
“I bet you were beaming,” she says in a breathless sort of way.
“For a second I was definitely shiny.” We’re nearing the line now. I don’t know where my mother and Rick are in the crowd, but I can still feel the pressure of her awareness nearby.
“And she let you shine?” Sydney asks, her voice dropping, mood shifting.
“She took my prize and got her free beer—which she didn’t even want,” I say, nibbling my lip. “Told everybody about the win. Talked me up like I was some kind of axe-throwing prodigy—so stupid, but people ate it up. They were drunk.”
“She made your win her win.”
I nod, relieved she seems to understand. “And I remember thinking, I could just decide to not let it bother me. I could play my own game, one where I didn’t have to respond to her poking and preening. It was the first time I realized I could do that.”
She presses her hand to my shoulder. Her eyes trip over it, and I know she’s spotted Moira somewhere in the distance.
“Cadence.” She says my name softly, like a secret. “You think of her as having all this power over you and that you have to do all this stuff to assert yourself, but maybe that’s not the whole story.”
I try to tug out of her grip, to get defensive, but her hand courses down the length of my arm, where she clutches my hand for the briefest moment.
Our eyes lock.
“What if you had just as much power over her all along?” She steps off, letting her words seep through my pores. Knowing they’re having their intended effect, rattling the cage I’ve locked myself inside of for so long.
Power and love, two things I’ve always felt my mother held in spades against me. But if she didn’t, if she wanted my love, my acknowledgment, my approval, that might change how I framed our shared history of heartache. It might make it possible to let go of the fight-or-flight that has reigned supreme in my life. It might be enough to convince this lone-wolf girl to find a pack, or at least a mate she can walk beside.
Chapter Thirty
Sydney
