Page 91 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
“If anyone gets close, I wouldn’t even have to touch them to change their minds,” I remind him.
I’m dangerous. More than anyone would expect from a Eunoia.
Once I look into someone’s eyes, my words are the only truth. I’m more powerful than the rest of my people. More deadly.
Others can control emotions. I demand them.
My fingers hum beneath the gloves. I feel the terrifying force prickling beneath my skin—my very nature. I could take over the world, person by person, meld their minds to one.
Mend them to my will.
Carefully, I rest my hands on Azaire’s cheeks, forcing his gaze to meet mine before he can realize what I’m doing.
The saddest part is, he doesn’t even suspect it.
It gives me a momentary pause. He sees me so purely, believes in me so completely. I’m going to crush that faith like a bug. But for just one more second, I want to linger in his purity—the innocence I’m about to strip from myself, a burden he will never know.
For one last second, I breathe in his fresh air.
Then I light the match.
“You don’t want to go to Folkara. But you support me going.” My voice takes on a terribly intoxicating tone. His emotion bends to me like clay—the way the boy should have. The way Azaire never should.
But this is for Ma.
“You understand the risks,” I whisper, “but you believe in me more.”
I watch him, feeling a piece of my heart chip away—like a fragment breaking off a fragile vase. I can glue this small shard back, but the scar will never fully disappear.
I’m taking something from myself: his integrity.
Watching closely, I wait for his mind to change—wondering if maybe I’ve failed. Maybe because his snakes didn’t kill me, my power won’t be enough to control him. Maybe I can take it back. Maybe he can see what I did, then see beyond it, understand me more deeply than before. Maybe he’llunderstandwhat this means to me, and together, we can find a way forward.
The hope in me shatters as Azaire nods, his expression unreadable, as if the weight of my power has numbed him. I can’t bear to hold his gaze any longer, so I turn away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shake his head, the fog in his eyes clearing as he forces himself back into focus.
“Before you do this, I have to ask…” His words trail off, and he tugs on the sides of his beanie. “Can I… can I hold you?”
I don’t know if that hurts or helps my cause.
“My hands?” I shake my head. I don’t deserve to be asked. “I’m sorry it’s—”
“Not possible?” he answers for me. He’s gotten awfully good at reading me. But not good enough to know what I’ve done to him.
Surprisingly, Azaire reaches to his beanie. He takes a deep breath. My blood spikes, my heart beats. Thorns rise from his emotion, just beneath my skin, daring to emerge.
With one movement, he pulls the beanie from his head, as if he’s laying himself bare for me.
Green and gray snakes hiss around his face, their tongues flicking in and out, their scales shimmering in the light. As they meet my gaze, even they are surprised I am still made of flesh.
I watch in awe.
Azaire’s eyes are alight, the brightest color I’ve ever seen. They could pierce through any darkness, even my own.
He looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters—the center of his world, the home he never knew he needed.
He looks at me like he loves me.
I fear he feels it, too.
