Page 79 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
I sigh as I stare at him.
I’m scared of this, too.
“I’m older now,”I say, despite not entirely believing in my words.“I can protect them this time.”
“But how can you know?”he asks.
Images of my mother grab me by the neck, and they don’t let me go. She tells me to run, and I plant my feet, then I’m thrownby the pernipe when I should have fought. I wake up to Ma, dead.
Images of Xander grab my hair and pull me down. I touch him when I shouldn’t—before knowing so much. He falls into the water, off a cliff, onto rocks. I feel the wound in my head.
I nearly black out.
When the memories shake me loose, I look away, toward the window, and I lift my hand from the boy’s knee. He grabs it back greedily, kissing my knuckles.
“Don’t go to him,”he murmurs.“I wouldbehim for you, if you only asked.”A tear slips from him, landing on my hand.
“I love you.”
“No,”the boy says.“Don’t say it—don’t say it without meaning it.”I shake my head, and he grasps my chin, pulling me back to him.“I am clay in your hands. I am yours to mold. Tell me what you want me to be, and I will be that for you.”
This time, I reach out and pick up his hand.“I want you to believe in me. I want you to know that I can protect someone this time—that no one else will die because of me.”
The boy sighs as he says,“But that isn’t true. It is law that everybody will die.”
I hold up the rose pendant.“That’s why I’ll give him this.”
?
I’m at the door to Azaire’s suite, my hand hovering over the knocker, the rose amulet clutched in the other. I just have to give it to him and leave. That’s all.
I’ll shield him the only way I can—with Ma’s pendant, her protection meant for me now resting with him. Because, if I’m truthful, I agree with the boy.
I only wish he didn’t agree with me.
So I knock.
No answer. As I turn away, a sigh of relief escapes me, and I realize I was hoping this would be the case. I wanted only to prove I was brave, but to ultimately go back to safety.
I didn’t intend to break any boundaries.
But Azaireisinside—I can feel him. He’s the only one here.
He must be avoiding me. Though, I don’t feel any of the telltale signs that tend to accompany avoidance.
I stand, pulling at my gloves. It’s only a necklace. It’s only a means of protection. It’s only a moment, a second of my life.
My hand moves of its own accord, pressing into the door and pushing it open.
“Hello?” I call into the suite, stepping cautiously down the three marble stairs.
The layout mirrors ours exactly—only reversed. The small kitchen sits at the opposite end, and the couch and tables face the wrong direction, as if everything’s been spun around.
“Azaire?” I call again.
There’s a calming buzz, the sound of running water. He must be in the shower.
I sit on the unfamiliar couch, nerves prickling beneath my skin. Close my eyes and focus on the feel of him. Warm. Familiar. It’s comforting. For a moment.
