Session 28 | Chapter 7
He is my best friend.
He lied to you.
He was my best friend.
He’s a liar.
He was–
My mind is a carousel, stuck in a loop of my own cries and the Priest’s taunts. His throaty laugh on the road. The way we’d sleep in the brush just off the trail before we joined the rest of the party. His breathing as he slipped into sleep, our tavern room filled with the steady rhythm. How much of it was real for him? How much of these quiet moments were simply an act?
Playing the part of ‘Goose’. That’s how he described it. The part.
I sniffle, trying to pull myself together. The last thing I need right now is for Perona to come looking for me and find me like this. She doesn’t understand your loss, Huntress. Solemnly, I nod in understanding of the Priest’s words.
Before leaving the doorway, I grab the blanket from inside the room and pull it around my shoulders like armor. With this around me, my emotions can’t escape. I hug the fabric tightly to my body and repeat the words like a mantra. If I feel nothing, then nothing can hurt me.
I cross the courtyard in a subtle dash, not wanting to be seen by any of the others who might already be awake. Reaching the door to the kitchen, I pause rubbing my face vigorously to dry the tears remaining on my cheeks. After I’m satisfied that my face looks minorly windburnt rather than like I’ve been crying, I flex my face, contorting my sore cheeks into something resembling a smile.
You can do this, Maire.
Pushing the heavy wooden door open, I see Perona at the window on the far end of the room. A shy smile forms on my face as I come to sit at the butcher block island in the center of the room. Slowly because of my shaky legs, I climb onto one of the barstools and lean against the solid surface. “Hi, sorry. I’m back now,” I murmur, my voice gravely and betraying how much I just cried. I cough a little, pretending to clear my throat and tamp down the evidence of my emotions.
She whips around, startled by my arrival and sings, “Welcome ba-ack!” The cheeriness of her tone startles me, and I have to adjust the way the blanket is draped around me to keep it from falling. Perona sets to quickly arranging fruits and flowers on a plate before sliding it across the island to me. “I’m almost done with the brunt of breakfast,” she informs me. She glances around the kitchen, looking a little haphazard before asking, “How are you feeling though?”
I’m broken.
Looking down at the plate in front of me I see the fruits are cut into shapes–some little flowers but most in the shape of hearts.
My heart is broken.
Outloud, I list my emotions in a monotone voice, “Tired…confused…hurt.” Pausing briefly, I decide to be transparent with her–test the Priest’s claims and see if she will understand. Lastly, I add, punctuating the word with all the bitterness in me, “Betrayed.”
What happened to not feeling emotions, Huntress? You open yourself to attacks if you show your weaknesses…he chides.
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Sheepishly, I pluck a flower from the pile of fruits, unable to stomach the mental image of crushing a heart between my teeth, and pop it in my mouth. I glance up to Perona, the memory of a lesson about civility and polite society ringing in my head before I state, “Thank you for making breakfast. You always know what people need.”
Pink rises up Perona’s neck to her cheeks at my words and she smiles warmly. I let my eyes drop back to the plate, satisfied that my words have covered any holes in my armor, and I search for the next fruit to eat. She sets to stirring batter for something after flipping the sausages cooking on the stove. As she stirs, Perona slowly choosing her words, “I can’t help those feelings and I can’t make the betrayal go away.”
My eyes flick to look at where she’s standing at the range from the corner of my vision. This should be interesting…the Priest chirrups in a mock singsong tone.
Perona whispers softly to herself, but it’s low enough I can’t make out the words. She takes a breath and continues, “It’s a loss, and those take pieces from you.” She pauses and I can tell her mind is spinning, sorting through the words to choose, what’s the ‘right thing’ to say to fix this. “You just…” she starts again, her tone like she’s performing, “Need to…grieve.” Perona stops as she’s pouring the batter into the hot skillet and dips slightly–something akin to a bow.
Cackling fills my ears, blurring my vision and consuming my focus. This is what you risked everything for? Oh Huntress you were meant for so much more than pretty words and empty promises. You were meant for defending the weak, for preaching his word to the masses. Meaning and conviction, not hollow platitudes.
I swallow down another piece of fruit, almost choking as it gets caught momentarily in my throat. Grief is something those in our conclave are not afforded. Grief isn’t for warriors. Grief is reserved for deaths and solely untimely ones at that. Goose didn’t die. Goose never existed. Goose was a lie fabricated by a god toying with a mortal’s emotions.
Emotions…he purrs, They’re fickle little things.
Without thinking, I start to roll my eyes before glancing over to Perona. Her back is still turned from me and for once, I’m happy to not have her eyes on me, picking apart my actions or lack thereof. After eating another piece of fruit, mechanically picking at the plate in front of me, it dawns on me that I haven't responded to her performance. I turn all of the words over in my mind, searching for the only truth I feel comfortable saying. “I’m sorry that I allowed you to be deceived–that I brought him into your life,” I proclaim.
Perona chokes at my statement before laughing, “No, I wasn’t deceived–you were.” She sets a plate with two sausages, a slightly crunchy chunk of bread, and two small pockets filled with herbs and onions. She walks over to stand opposite me and brings her face close to mine. Her eyes are wide with worry as she continues to speak, “I trusted you. You were deceived. You did not deceive me. I trusted Goose as an extension of you.” She reaches her hand out to cup my cheek. “My trust, my love, my faith in you has not changed because you were deceived. We all face pain and grief. It’s what you do with that that shapes you.” She presses a whisper of a kiss to my forehead and pulls back, swiping a blueberry from the plate before me and popping it in her mouth.
I stare at her, stunned by the declaration in her words, the wisdom and sincerity. If my heart wasn’t already shattered, it would crack again, a fissure growing and reaching to its very core at the realization echoing through me.
Maybe it’s not true…I whisper to myself.
The Priest chuckles, bouncing through the recesses of my mind, before cooing, You know it is.
I smile, forcing my face to contort into the shape that feels only like a memory at this point. I slice into the crepe on my plate and eat a small piece of it. The flavors are familiar. They’re warm and should soothe the ache in my chest and limbs. But a hint of ash hides in the back of my palette and I force down the food.
Maybe it’s not true, I repeat.
Only one way to find out, Huntress…
I lean across the island and place a light kiss to Perona’s lips, the smell of amber and cinnamon filling my senses before I pull away. Another smile forms on my face and I say, “Let’s finish this and go train. I feel like hitting something.”
Nothing. There was nothing. The electricity that used to fire through my body at the mere thought of touching Perona’s hand is no longer present after a kiss. Numbness consumes me, has snuffed out every emotion and guarded myself finally against any future harm. The last whisper of emotion dances across the shattered pieces of my heart in the form of guilt. For though Perona believes I haven’t, I have in fact deceived her.
I can’t do this.