Page 165 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
My family wasn’t supposed to blame me.
I wasfourteen. I was a baby, a child, inches smaller in height. A million times smaller in mind.
How could I have stopped a targeted attack on my mom?
How could I save the universe from a prophecy?
Maybe I’m meant to do nothing. I was only a conduit—I am not a savior. I never have been. I failed Azaire, my do-over, the first time I opened myself to love after losing so much of it.
Even if I kill Desdemona, it won’t stop me from feeling this. If there’s anyone that deserves my anger, it’s me. If there’s anyone that deserves to be avenged, it’s not me.
I don’t have Azaire, and the gods don’t have Azaire. No one has Azaire. He’s atree.
And I never told him I loved him.
There was one thing I could have done—one thing that could have changed my fate.
I could have told the boy I love that I loved him.
There have been so many things IthoughtI had to do—things I was powerless to change. But this is the one I can’t deny. There is no reasonable explanation for what I did, for why I tore his heart out in an attempt to protect him, when what I should have done was pull him closer.
Theonetime that my choices had power, I chose wrong.
“I’m okay,” someone says.Aralia.She’s shocked that Calista is holding her, helping her. She glares around the room before asking, “What is this?”
Calista fixes me with a gaze, unsure. She doesn’t know what to tell Aralia. But she turns to her, asking, “Where did Desdemona go?”
Calista asks for me.
For me to kill her.
After watching quietly this entire time, the boy comes to life.“If this is what you want, I will not stop you, Little Thorn.”
“Why wouldn’t you stop me?”
“Because you are close to finding the truth I’ve been trying to show you. For all I’ve tried, I have failed. Perhaps it will take something drastic.”
“Lucian took her,” Aralia answers.
“To kill?” I step forward.
Aralia glares at me. “To protect.” Her gaze fixes back on Calista as she shrugs her arms away from the princess. “Why are you helping me?”
Calista opens her mouth, shaking her head slowly. Aralia sighs as she rises to her feet, moving away. She wipes dust from her dress and leaves the ballroom without another word.
Calista stares at me, unspoken words sitting in her throat. She can’t get them out. I sit next to her, once a friend, turned a foe, now something more complicated.
“Is there something more you want?” she asks, her voice tight.
I open my mouth, but it seems this time it’s my vocal cords who disagree.
“I have the necklace,” Calista scorns. “I’m done here.”
But she doesn’t mean it. I canfeelher not meaning it. She must know that, but I stand regardless and leave the ballroom.
Because beneath her facade, there’s a broken heart. And I don’t have it in me to try to mend two.
Chapter 30
