Page 47 of Grim and Oro
Her voice is quiet. “That is barbaric.”
She isn’t wrong. I only lift a shoulder. “It was a custom here, for a very long time. Meant to toughen the body and mind at the height of its growth. The place I trained as a warrior ... we were punished for the smallest of infractions. In public. Shadows can turn into the sharpest, thinnest blades.”
“That’s humiliating.”
“It wasn’t. It was a chance to prove we didn’t react to the pain. Standing there, being cut, and not moving a muscle in your face ... It was seen as strength.” To me, it meant my pain could be conquered. It meant perhaps my feelings could be as well. All that pain ... could be turned into something else. Something useful. “My father would come and watch. It was an honor to show him that I had no reaction to the pain.”
Back when I actually respected my father.
Her concern continues. Interesting. “You know how awful that sounds, right?”
I nod. I do. “It’s why that doesn’t happen anymore. Our training is still ruthless ... but not as cruel.”
She swallows. I watch her throat with far too much interest. What would the skin there feel like, beneath my lips? Beneath my teeth?
Her voice breaks my focus. “But ... you don’t have any scars.”
My walls come up. She’s seen my body.
Has she thought of me, late at night, the same way I think of her?
The thought angers me as much as it interests me.
She knows I can remove scars. Is she wondering why I haven’t removed the one she gave me?
“You have a Moonling healer, don’t you? Or Moonling healing supplies? Why is Cleo helping you?”
There she goes, with her questions.
Too many questions. All at once, I remember my plan. What I must do.
“You should leave,” I say, and it’s the first semi-responsible thing I’ve done all night.
Her hurt is instantaneous. I almost hate myself for being the cause, but no. She should be hurt. Sheshouldhate me.
Without another word, she uses her device to disappear.
My loneliness is immediate. I’m instantly regretting my words, I’m left hating myself for making her leave.
You should leave, I said.
You should never leave, is what I meant.
Hours later, I’m pacing my room. I haven’t gotten a thing done since she left. I’ve been too distracted, this unfamiliar worry raking at mychest. I imagine her bleeding out on her bed. What if the wrappings weren’t tight enough? What if the wound didn’t fully close?
What if she’s dying right now?
What if she’s already dead?
I promised myself I would stop doing this, stop watching her. But a blinding panic makes me portal to her room without another thought.
The relief at seeing her sleeping soundly nearly has me sinking to the floor.
There she is, I think.Sleeping soundly for the both of us.
I almost leave. She’s fine.
But what if she isn’t in a few hours?
