Page 148 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
M
y room isn’t silent. It’s far from it.
Like everything else, it’s suffocating. I’m suffocating. Drifting in doubt. Dripping in pain.
My grief flickers off and on, like a light switch, every time I feel another person. Once they’ve left my radius, I’m with myself once more. Then another comes along, and I become them.
I’m about to become a princess.
Calista bursts into my room, her presence unmistakably persistent. I hardly have the energy—or the heart—for her right now.
She’s ready to fight if I don’t agree with her. It’s in the set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. This isn’t an uncommon feeling for her—she has a way of making everything seem like a battle, whether she means to or not.
I can’t handle a fight today.
As I lie in my bed, she says, “I have a plan.”
When I don’t answer immediately, my chest tightens with angry breath—the fight in her grows. But I haven’t said a word in days, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to.
Calista doesn’t know about Azaire—I can tell.
I prefer it to the empty apologies.
I prefer her concern to my grief.
I stand and shift my focus to her. Without a word, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me no choice but to follow her across the suite and into her room. She sits on her large bed and pats the space next to her. I sit down quietly, unsure of what comes next.
Her excitement is strong, but so is her fear of failure.
There’s a moment of silent anticipation.
Then, “We’ll take Desdemona’s necklace at the Collianth.” Her voice is low but urgent. “The place will be packed—crowds everywhere, people mingling, distractions at every corner. I’ll target the moment when her attention is pulled away, when she’s distracted by the chaos or conversation. Then I’ll approach from behind, take the necklace, and vanish before she realizes what’s happened. No one will suspect a thing.”
I stare at Calista, her words slowly seeping into my mind.
“Desdemona,” I sound out each syllable. The name is heavy on my tongue. I hadn’t thought about her in days—Desdemona’s necklace… the stone… the prophecy.
Time fractures with the stone.
The promise of an end.
For a moment, I don’t care about an end. Maybe I’d enjoy watching this universe falter, watching everything unravel. The thought is bitter, but it lingers, like a temptation I can’t quite push away.
No.I force the thought from my mind. It’s not who Ma raised me to be. I’m not vindictive. I’m not a bad person. But the weight of everything feels like it’s closing in, and I wonder—just for a second—if I’m strong enough to resist it.
“Yeah.” Calista drags the word out, her gaze sharp. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I say, though I feel anything but.
Desdemona. Kapha. Leiholan. It all crashes into me, a wave of forgotten details and emotions, drowning my thoughts. My pulse quickens.Is Leiholan okay? Is he alive?The questions claw at me, but I’m too afraid to answer them.
More than that—the kapha wanted something from Desdemona. Ifeltit.
But I didn’t figure out what.
“There’s something off about Desdemona,” I finish, realizing how long I’ve lingered on this thought. It was always silent—at the back of my mind.
“Tell me about it,” Calista mutters as she examines her nails. The twinge of her jealousy is sharp, almost pungent, but still more bearable than the weight of my grief.
