Page 108 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
“Azaire Wenejad.” I trace his jaw. “You are my favorite thing, too.”
?
We lie in bed for most of the morning. I’m content to stay here forever, but Azaire rises, putting on his academy uniform.
“You already missed first period,” I say. “Why not go for double?”
My smile quickly fades. The humor quickly stanched from my bones.
With his back turned to me, Azaire says, “I… have to go to Ms. Ferner’s class.”
I jolt upright. “Again?”
He turns to me, nodding with a quiet sadness in his eyes. “Someone has to make you a healer.”
I rise to my feet. “Mending intentionally harmed people is not the definition of a healer.”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “There’s that mind of yours.”
“No. We’re not going.”
“You might not be,” Azaire sighs. “But I have to.” He throws his bag across his shoulder.
Taking one long stride toward him, I grab the bag’s strap.
“Why? Why don’t we do something—take a stand?”
“A stand with one person isn’t much of one at all.”
“But—”
“It’d just be rebellion—not revolution,” he says, reaching for my hand.
He holds it tightly. His touch stills my shaking head. All my disagreement suddenly understands him. He’ll get there, I know he will. He’ll change the world.
But not today.
“I don’t want you to be there.” His thumb strokes the back of my hand. “To have to feel it—”
“I don’t want to risk someone hurting youmore.” I turn and grab my academy coat.
“I can take it.”
“I can’t,” I say, grabbing his hand once more and walking to the door.
Together, we walk to class, and when I see Ms. Ferner, it’s hard not to give her the evil eye. This isn’t her fault. These volunteer groups aren’t her doing. But she’s complicit.
That’s half the evil.
She tells the class we’ll be hiking beyond the school’s garden, searching for poisonous herbs. It’s a double lesson—identifying plants and learning to heal poison.
The Nepenthes have to ingest what we find.
When she’s done, the class and the “volunteers” quickly rise, filing out the door and beginning the hike. Some of the students chat as we walk, but I can’t find any words.
It’s only the Eunoia who speak.
The Nepenthes are all dejected, for obvious reasons.
