Burning Bridges

by Nadege Richards

  Dropping the wheelbarrow down, I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. She’d chosen the wrong time to act like a fool, if my temper was anything to go by. “What are you talking about?”

  She waved a finger in my face. “Naughty, naughty Ayden. I saw the way you were looking at the Princess. She’s something, ain’t she?”

  Choking down a smart remark, I pushed her hand away and tried my best to imagine a hawk sweeping her off the ground and taking her somewhere far from me.

  “Anyway, I have a favor to ask you.” When I didn’t answer, she continued. “Good, I’ll do all the talking. I need somewhere to stay for a few nights, just till Mimi gets her own place.”

  I slammed the package of soil down on the asphalt and pressed my fingers into my already throbbing forehead. “No,” I said, turning to face her. “Hell no.”

  “And why not! It’s just—”

  “Where’ve you been for the past two weeks, Feve? Adamo says you’ve been with a guy named Silas?”

  “Relax, Father,” she scoffed. “And Adamo needs to mind his own business. I’ve been…around.”

  I sighed and strained to breathe in the heat. Feven was only nineteen. Her mother was a friend of the family, and after she died and my family was deemed untrustworthy, I swore to protect her. She had no one, and even though I didn’t quite know what that was like, I didn’t want her to go a day thinking she had to face the world alone. If anything, I wanted to be her friend. But she was running off so much that I was beginning to feel like a father, a position that made me feel uncomfortable, stressed, and overwhelmed.

  “Okay,” I sighed. “One night. One night and that’s it. You make a mess, you clean it up.” I approached her until I was standing shy of her nose. “Above all else, stay out of trouble and don’t go into the house.”

  Feven held her hand out. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  I watched her hand for a moment before shaking it, trying to ignore the gut-wrenching feeling that I was swearing my soul to the devil’s advocate.

  WHEN Feven and I had finished with the garden and we were excused for the day, we crowded into my small cabin barely sizable for two. We’d made it past my father, but it wasn’t like he was sober enough to notice anything but the beer bottle in his hand.

  Feven followed me into the small kitchenette and sat down at the table. The sound of her boots on the tiled floor was heavy and dragging. I watched her silently. “Want something to drink?” I asked her, just to cut the silence.

  “Sure.” The low ceiling lamp illuminated the new tattoos on the side on her face. A lot of things were new about Feven lately.

  “That’s nice.” She pointed to the picture hanging on the wall of my parents. I remembered the picture being taken as if it were yesterday. I was only eight, but the memory was something that would always stick with me. They were the only times of happiness, when Misty and Milo were still very young and my parents were happy and lively. Now, though, one taste of reality was all I needed to know that things would never be that way again, no matter how hard I strived for it.

  “They miss you, you know?” I handed her the glass of water and watched her gulp it down greedily as if she hadn’t had something to drink in ages. I took the seat across from her and tried my best to seem civilized. “Why’d you leave?”

  “Why does it matter? I left.” She slid me the empty glass and, not catching my eye, began to play with the loose threads of her sweater sleeve. “Things have changed, you know that.”

  I frowned. “No, I don’t know. What exactly has changed, Feven?”

  Her voice was noticeably smaller when she answered, “I have. But I’ve been doing well. Getting better, I mean. Mimi says she’s proud of me.”

  Feven had been battling the wars of depression since her mother’s death when she was three. I’d known her since, and just enough to know that Feven lied so much that she even believed the tales as truths. Now, as she could barely look me in the eyes, I knew she was the furthest thing from recovery. “You shouldn’t have left,” I told her. “Knowing that I have so much on my hands to deal with already, I’d expect you to understand that better than anyone else. I can’t be worrying about my family and making sure you have somewhere to sleep and food to eat every night.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” she said dismissively with a wave of her hand. When she caught the worry in my eyes, she continued. “I met someone.”

  “Who?” The urgency in my voice was no mistake.

  She cleared her throat and only then did she look me in the eyes, as if to confirm she was trying so hard to make her lie sound as honest as possible. “It’s no one, really. Just someone that I met. They’re going to take care of me.”

  “So why are you here tonight?” I asked her.

  “They had to be somewhere—with someone.” Her eyes flashed a gleam of hatred, unmistakable as they stared back at me through heavy eyelids. She rolled back her shoulders and shook her head. “Let’s not talk about this, eh? How’s Carys doing?”

  “My mother’s fine,” I said. That was when my eyes had left hers in both shame and disclosure. “Much better, but it’s not a constant thing. One day she’s walking to the market and back, and the next she can barely leave her bed.”

  Feven reached across the table and her hands covered mine. I stared down at our joined fingers for a long moment, trying to decide how it made me feel. Finally, I got up and figured I really didn’t care what feelings it evoked. I’d been a standing brick since day one and a foolish, little girl wasn’t even close to the sanity I craved for.

  “I’ve been praying for her still,” Feven whispered.

  “To whom?” I laughed. “To the gods that find peace in watching their children suffer? Some hope we have.”

  She said nothing, but I could sense her mind stretching for the right words. The silence went on for so long that neither one of us could take it any longer. I had to move away.

  Before I made it out of the kitchen, she stopped me. “What happened to us?” she whispered. There was a tremor in her voice.

  It was a simple question, really. “Time, life, and history. Those things you seem to have forgotten. When you remember all that New Haven has stripped from you, ask yourself that question and make sure you have an answer. I’m sure you’ll be more grateful for the things you have. Revenge, Feven, it is solace. The only thing I’ve ever called home.”

  She still had nothing to say as I walked down the hall to the bedroom, nor did I expect her to. I didn’t care if I’d answered her or not. Truthfully, I’d answered some question buried within myself, a question I’d been seeking answers to for far too long. “Revenge,” I whispered to myself. The word tasted like venom on my tongue, but sounded like a siren’s call to my ears. So sweet, yet filled with so much hostility. Was it a sin to want both?

  I never checked to see if Feven would move from the kitchen, but when I rolled over in the middle of the night, I found her on the floor, huddled under a few jackets I assumed she’d brought with her. She shivered and murmured something incoherent. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I walked over to the window, slid the drapes apart, and locked the window shut. I considered leaving her as she was on the floor, but then again, I was never the heartless type.

  I pulled a few blankets from an old wicker dresser and threw them to the floor. Feven garbled something again, and I sighed.

  “Feve,” I whispered, gently tapping her shoulder.

  She stirred but didn’t move. I tried again, but all she did was swat my hand away. Angry this time because I wasn’t in the mood, I slid my arms under her and carried her to the bed. She weighed nothing as she shifted in my arms.

  “I’m trying, Feven,” I whispered, laying her down and pulling the blankets up to her neck. She murmured something that sounded like ‘goodnight’ then turned over and fell right back to sleep.

  Making myself comfortable on the floor, I felt my mind begin to drift. It was unbidden at first,
the memories that plagued me, but I relaxed and let them take me. That night I dreamt of the future, or was it of the past? It was before Mother got sick, before we moved to Shadow Hills, and right when I had first met Feven.

  Feven Damkuri.

  She was a puny little thing, with her russet ponytails, wobbly knees, skinny features, and a thin waist. She wasn’t anything special to look at, but she always made sure she was noticed by everyone. School was just a few blocks away from home back in Loracre and, like all the kids, I’d walked the ways to class. Since Loracre was closer to the outland bay, the streets were full of sand and not many people bothered to waste money on horses when they’d noticed the deficit. I was in the seventh form then and Feven was in the fifth. Though I wasn’t exactly popular, I had friends. Feven, on the other hand, had no one. Shame to say, I wasn’t one to care.

  But that day, when I saw her in the alley crying, something broke in me. Perhaps because the sadness that seemed to consume her day after day was the same thing I saw in myself when I found out my mother was dying. The urge to go to her and help was strong, but never being a comforter, I dismissed it. It wasn’t until that day outside by the old playground, watching her staring out at the bay as if she was lost out at sea, that I decided to do something.

  It took everything in me to go to her and say, “You’re sad.” The playground was empty, we were the only ones. While the rest of the children had scurried home, we lingered.

  “Really? I didn’t notice.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and took another step closer to the waters. “What are you doing here, Grey? Want another good laugh at the girl with greasy hair? Or the one without a mother?” I had frozen. “Well, I’m not going anywhere, so take a long, good look at me.”

  My mind twisted with confusion. I knew she was picked on a lot, but I never paid much attention to it, nor did I care. Now, though, I felt bad for not doing something. “I’m sorry about your mother, Feven. She was real nice to me; my mother knew her well.”

  “No one knew her like I did!” she shouted, with her hands up in exasperation. “My mother was the… She was the wisest woman I knew. She taught me everything when Father left. I took care of her for years, Grey. It was just her and I. Now she’s gone and I have no one.” She took another step closer to the bay. “I’m so lost.”

  I dismissed all doubts that came to me when I reached out and held her in my arms. She was so small, and being in the seventh form, I didn’t know the first thing about girls. I guess, in some way, pain was pain. I’d had enough of it by then to know when a broken heart matched my own. “Your mother was amazing, Feven. I’m sorry she’s gone.”

  She tried to push me away, but the tighter I held, the more the challenge left her. She fell limp in my arms and convulsed with tears. She whispered, “Do you know what it’s like to have no one, Ayden? It’s worse than loneliness…it’s the death of you.”

  She fell to the ground and I fell with her, locking my arms around her. “No, I don’t. But at some point I will.” Feven looked up at me.

  That day, I wasn’t sure what it was, but I’d found someone else who was as broken as me, maybe even more so. The two of us had sat quietly for the rest of the evening, staring out at the open bay and blue skies while I listened to Feven murmur a prayer for her mother’s ascension. I had no tears to shed or a prayer for the deceased.

  I’m so lost.

  Glancing up at the moon through my small window, I realized that’s exactly what this was.

  We were broken. We were lost.

  There was no hope for the hopeless.

  T E N

  Echo

  Shadow was late and Mother had already forced me through two plays of music, each of which I didn’t even know the composer.

  “Again,” she barked. I sat up straight and poised my fingers over the keys of the piano. My fingers were red from all the playing, but I continued. “Sing.” I opened my mouth to belt out the chords and the words slipped from my lips in fluent New-Latin, a language well spoken in Thediby.

  Mother showed no signs of stress when I looked at her from above the piano top. Not that I liked seeing her so mad and crazy, but every few minutes I found myself anticipating the moment she’d break down again. Remotely, I wondered if she was sick. It wasn’t a good thought, but it was better than thinking your mother had two personas.

  “I can’t hear you,” she yelled.

  I rolled my eyes and sang louder. “Follow me to the garden of Eden / where the willows bloom and meadows sing— / Run with me as we take the sky / and flee the sorrow that tomorrow will bring—”

  I’d known this song as if I’d been born with it. It was an old nursery rhyme Mother was so adamant on me learning. I’d played it enough to know I would never, even in a million years, forget it.

  My words were cut off by Shadow’s footsteps on the parquet. Mother looked at her angrily when she asked to take me into town. She complied anyway and I left with Shadow.

  I smiled discreetly.

  “What took you so long? She was killing me in there,” I said as we passed the guards outside the door and sauntered down the huge lawn of the palace.

  Shadow rolled her eyes and dismissed me. “Does it matter? I’m here now. And I heard you in there; it seemed to me like you needed the practice.”

  I gasped and nudged her shoulder with my own. “You know I’m not the piano-playing type.” I skipped in front of her, walking backwards and doing my best not to trip over my feet. “Besides, I’m going to be a Tigress like you and Ezily.” At the sound of those words, they just felt right.

  “Let’s not far-fetch this, okay?” Shadow sneered. “I just want you to know how to protect yourself, just in case.”

  I froze. “Just in case what, Shadow?”

  “Nothing.” She waved it off and continued to walk. We were outside the palace compounds now, walking along the dusty roads to the market gates. “It’s nothing. Anyway, you’re getting married, you’ll be Queen soon, and no one will be able to hurt you. You won’t need to be a Tigress.”

  I stopped and allowed Shadow to walk ahead. It wasn’t the fact that she’d pushed my temper with the marriage talk or even being Queen. It was that last bit that I would have missed had I not been listening intently. Shadow had never lied to me, nor had she ever had reason to. Was she implying that I wasn’t good enough? Or was this just her ensuring our family’s title? She was another mystery to me, as well was everyone lately. For the first time, I questioned the stability of my family.

  Ezily waited by the same tree she did everyday when we met her for practice. This time there was no target on the tree, but a sword in Ezily’s hand that made her look more of a Tigress than she’d ever been. “I see you’ve dressed for the occasion,” she said, swinging the sword around in her hand, gracefully slicing the air.

  I shrugged and smoothed down the front of the leather corset Shadow let me borrow. The pants were mine, the only thing I owned that wasn’t a dress. My hair was pulled into a tight ponytail that hung well past my shoulders. “Dress to impress, right?”

  Ezily smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.” She sheathed the sword and whispered something to Shadow. Shadow nodded and I watched her take her place further down the park, somewhat hidden behind the big tree. “Shadow’s your target.” Ezily quickly untied her sheathed sword from her waist and threw it to me. “I want to see what you can do under pressure.”

  I barely caught the sword. “Are you kidding me? That’s like putting me in a den of lions—I don’t know anything yet!”

  Ezily laughed. “You’re smart, so do something.” She looked back at Shadow who had dropped into a low stance, and cocked her head towards me. “Don’t worry,” Ezily whispered. “She’s your sister, so by law she can’t kill you. Purposely, anyway.”

  And that makes me feel so much better.

  I unsheathed the heavy, adorned sword and tried my best to hold it above my head, or was it supposed to be behind me like a swinging bat? Ezily laughed a
t me and I sulked. “You’re cruel,” I told her.

  “We’ll see who’s cruel.” She waved over to Shadow and I braced myself for impact as she charged for me. Something had told me, probably years ago, that I was born to be a fighter. Maybe it was seeing my sister take out that boar or living the monotonous life I knew I couldn’t carry on much longer. I was a fighter, but I just didn’t know what to fight for.

  As Shadow grew nearer, I found what I wanted to fight for and I reached for it. Freedom—that is all I ever wanted. Shadow wasn’t my father, the one who was stripping me of that liberty, but for the moment she was. I released the pent up anger of being shut down and allowed it to swallow me whole. Revenge—it was something I had never craved for until now. Temptation, rebellion, and love—my only allies in a disastrous war against myself.

  “Don’t just stand there, move!” Ezily barked, and almost immediately, I reacted. When Shadow was at most a foot away from me, she swung down with her sword in earnest means to harm me. Or scare, in which she had done successfully. But my reaction time was fast and I quickly ducked out of the way, turning so that I was standing behind her.

  Shadow laughed and said, “Not bad. For a rookie.” She swung again, but this time she was deft and unpredictable. There was no time to counter, so I ducked again, meeting the edge of Shadow’s sword face to face. “Always look where you are turning; never take your eyes from your enemy’s weapon. Do so—” Shadow lifted the edge of her sword to my neck and shook her head, “—and you die.”

  “Again!” Ezily shouted. “Concentrate, Echo.”

  I am, I thought. With a sigh, I held my sword up to Shadow’s. Ezily counted to three and gave us the thumbs up to go. I’d always known Shadow was strong, but when she pushed forward with her sword and charged for me again, I seriously thought she was going to kill me. Too many times to count a match had ended with her sword to my neck or me face-planted in the hard, packed dirt while she pressed down on my back with a heavy foot. By the end of the day, I was tired and frustrated.