Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I wait for Maeve to point out that I make my own choices, too. That I am choosing to conform to my mother’s demands, just like Wolf is choosing to push back. That I bow to duty over love every single time. It’s how I lost Evelyn, after all. It’s how I’ve lost the person I might have been if I was born into a different family, was taught by a different mother.
There’s no point in mourning that version of myself. She was weak, so she had to die. It was the only way I could live. There’s certainly no point in wondering if this selkie staring at me with fathomless eyes would have liked that softer version much better than the one who sits before her, heart cold and hands drenched in centuries’ worth of blood.
And yet . . . I can’t help but wonder exactly that.
chapter 10
Maeve
I didn’t expect the thread of pain in Lizzie’s voice when she talks about her brother and family. I certainly didn’t expect to read between the lines to the abuse she must have suffered to fulfill the expectations of her mother. Shame coats my throat. I’m guilty of making assumptions about her, of following the lead of Nox and the others on the Audacity and believing that Lizzie walked from the womb with a cold smirk and a desire for violence.
Maybe she did, but that doesn’t change the fact that the person she is today was formed from a lifetime of experiences, and if the heaviness of her words is any indication, many of those experiences were horrific and violent.
I know what it’s like to live under the expectations of others, but attempting to find common ground is a recipe for disaster. At best, she’ll laugh in my face. At worst, she’ll assume I pity her and hate me for it. Knowing that keeps me from trying to comfort her, but the desire is there all the same.
Before I can do something foolish, she clears her throat. “How did you lose your skin?”
I knew the question was coming. Honestly, I’m surprised no one asked me before. Nox chose not to on purpose. They know better than anyone what Threshold can take from you. But once I agreed to this journey together, it was only a matter of time before Lizzie would want to know about the theft that set me on this path.
Even so, it feels strange to take a deep breath and try to formulate my thoughts into something that isn’t shrieking in rage. At myself. At him. At the entire situation.
She answered honestly when I asked her a truly invasive question. I can do nothing less. The pain in my chest is a living thing as I clear my throat. “I spent a good portion of my adult life avoiding entanglements with sailors and the Cŵn Annwn. Once Nox recruited me, I stopped leaving the tavern when the tide washed their ships in. I learned to flirt enough to get them to spill information and to avoid advances in a way that didn’t bruise their pride.” And I was good at it, too. I was able to pass plenty of information about shipping routes, plans, and even a few secrets to the rebellion.
But I was so incredibly lonely.
I can’t bring myself to admit that aloud. Instead, I say, “Bronagh is incredibly handsome and incredibly charming. His ship has a trading route through Khollu, Viedna, and the handful of smaller islands within a few days’ travel, so I saw him a lot. He noticed me.”
He noticed me. So much in those three little words. So little. Shame is a live thing inside me. I should have known better than to trust him. I should have known better than . . .
“Keep going.” Lizzie’s words anchor me, drawing me out of my shame spiral. At least a little.
It still hurts to talk. “I thought he was courting me. He’s from Khollu and so he was already making the trip down to Viedna once or twice a month. He started bringing me gifts, slipping them to me when no one else noticed.” More accurately, when my grandmother and mother didn’t notice. They would’ve put a stop to the situation immediately and likely would’ve known the danger he presented. But the illicitness of our interactions only made him more attractive to me.
I was a fool.
I look out at the horizon. “I thought I was in love. In hindsight, I just liked the attention. I liked that someone looked at me and saw something special instead of just a barmaid on a backwater island. It made me reckless.” Bronagh, on the other hand, obviously had a plan. It wasn’t the first time we had sex that he stole from me. It wasn’t the second or third time, either. It was the moment when I truly trusted him, when I snuck him into my room. When I let him close enough to hurt me.