14. I Don’t Trust Myself

fourteen

I Don’t Trust Myself

Alessia

H ours later, the hallways are bustling with busy hands. I didn’t ask what Ez and Das Celyn did with the body. I don’t want to know. It’ll haunt me more than it already does. Afterward, true to his word, Ez windwalked between Spiritus and Umbra Courts, bringing over helping hands.

I trudge away from the main hallway, where many Umbra folk begin attacking the filth.

Even with my shadow’s contented quiet, I’m on edge. It’s only a matter of time before it becomes unsettled and lashes out again.

Already, I’m questioning my decision to agree to help.

What happens when it wakes up again?

Shuddering, I wrap my arms around myself and trek further away from the main space, wanting to put distance between me and the fae cleaning the massive rooms.

I told Ez that Rainer could come. Why isn’t he here yet? Is there a chance he doesn’t want to see me?

Down the hallway, light seeps out of an open door. A soft, repetitive tapping sound, like two stones smashing together, reaches my ears. With a furrowed brow, I stride closer and peer inside.

Weathered wooden shelves line the walls, adorned with jars of dried leaves, powders, and roots. The air is thick here, not yet cleaned out. A workspace stretches beneath the dried herbs on the far wall, and a wooden table in the center of the room with old tomes.

The apothecary, I’d guess.

Herbs and spices tingle my nose, reminding me of the very sorceress standing at the counter with her back to me.

Dark braids—decorated with small yellow flowers—reach her middle back. Her dress, interwoven with ivy, has an asymmetrical hem resting just above her knees.

“Seraphina,” I say flatly. “What are you doing here?”

She turns, giving me a confident smile. “Making more healing salve for you.”

I hesitate before striding over to her. If my shadow-self acts up, I’ll just run. But then again… could I blame it if it got mad? Seraphina’s previous actions warrant wrath.

Pausing, I suck in a deep, slow breath.

Nope—no. Those thoughts are dangerous. I won’t entertain them.

Once I calm my mind, I approach her and eye the ingredients on the counter.

“It’s made of moonberries, beeswax, yarrow, comfrey, tea tree oil, and calendula oil.” She points to each ingredient as she names them. “Peppermint for scent.”

On the counter beside her, a ceramic pot holds a colorful mixture of half-mashed berries. Various jars are filled with a thick, purplish-brown goop.

I wrinkle my nose. “I thought it was white?”

She laughs, tapping a sack on a shelf overhead. “Cloudroot powder. I add it at the end. It helps with absorption.” Her smile falters, and she glances down at my arms. “I heard what happened. ”

I wrap my arms around me, wishing I had worn long sleeves.

“Here.” She reaches into a cupboard below, pulling out a familiar jar of white salve. “This one is finished.”

Eyeing it skeptically, I slowly accept it from her. It’d be wise to heal before Rainer comes. I give it a sniff. A wave of longing overcomes me as the soft peppermint smell takes me back to Char.

Feeling more at ease, I open the jar and liberally apply the cream to my cuts. They’re superficial, nothing serious. The skin stitches together, closing up before my eyes. I use a rag to wipe away the dried blood.

Seraphina continues to work, paying me no mind.

My eyes dart around the workspace. The area where she’s working is clean, but a heavy layer of dust sits on the table and much of the other shelves. Cobwebs cling to the corners, stringing overhead.

She follows my line of sight. “They’ll make their way here to clean eventually. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to get to work… doing what I’m good at.” She half-laughs, waving her arm over the assortment of ingredients on the surface beside her.

I don’t reply. She nibbles her lip and leans a hip against the counter.

“I brought my own supplies just in case,” she says, pointing to an oversized burlap sack at her feet. “But you’re stocked to the gills.”

Squinting, I scan the shelves, skimming the labels on glass jars and tin cans. There’s a variety of herbs and dried flowers, poultices, tinctures, syrups, and salves. “Everything is so old.”

“It’s usable.” She shrugs a shoulder as she mashes her berries. “They were enchanted to last, it would appear.”

“If you say so,” I murmur.

She sighs, sets down the pestle she’s holding, and turns back to me. “I understand you don’t trust me, but I won’t harm you. We want the same things.”

My attention snaps back to her, my throat thickening. For the first time, I pause to take her in. Her brown eyes glitter with specks of gold, and her rich brown skin is smooth and blemish-free. She’s wearing the patience and kindness of the Sera I befriended in Terra Court, but she’s also the stranger who tried to kill me—who killed Eoin.

Perhaps I’m better suited to stay here with her rather than near the others. I’m not wanting to be alone, but I don’t want to risk hurting anyone else. But I’m not afraid of hurting Seraphina. She hurt me first.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, my eyes flitting shut. No . This exact way of thinking is a slippery slope. I’m not one to seek revenge or justice, and it’s more important than ever now to stay in touch with my own kindness.

Returning my gaze to her, I try to focus on the bits of the Sera I know—the female who sat with me in Terra Court and spilled information about the courts. The one who laughed with me while I was drunk on faerie wine, intoxicated by Eoin’s magic, and the one who befriended me when I was feeling lost and alone.

“I… forgive you,” I force myself to say. The words come out reluctantly, as if my shadow-self is trying to tug them back down my throat instead of allowing them to spill out. “I want to move forward, Sera.”

The darkness rattles my bones like prison bars, begging to be released. Not even Seraphina deserves the harm it could cause.

And I refuse to add another tally to my list .

“I shouldn’t be here.” Turning, I take a step, but her soft hand lands on my upper arm.

“Wait,” she says quietly.

Exhaling, I smooth out my expression and turn back to her. She drops my arm and studies me for a moment.

“I know what it’s like,” she says.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” I say emotionlessly. “I really should be going now.”

“The guilt. The regret. The grief.” She fiddles with one of her braids, tossing it over a shoulder. “His face is etched in my memory—vivid and tormenting. And not just in death, but in the echo of his smile. It’s the essence of his life that lingers. I feel it, a palpable responsibility clinging to my soul,” she whispers, her voice quivering with the weight of her emotions.

She places a hand on her chest, her eyes glinting with honesty. “I made a mistake that cost a piece of my own soul. I can’t do it again. I won’t.”

My chest tightens in response. “Good,” I whisper. The very emotions she speak of clog my throat, and I hate that of all folk, it’s Seraphina who gets it.

“I won’t pretend to be something I’m not, though,” she says. “If my plan had worked—if Ez would’ve been freed from Yvanthia’s horrible clutches—it would’ve been worth it. I wouldn’t have an ounce of regret.” She dips her chin, giving me an apologetic look. “I’d do anything for him.”

The weight of her words is a blow to my chest. I step back. “Even if you had killed me ?”

She chews her bottom lip for a second, then releases it. “All I can give you is my word that right now, with how things have turned out, I recognize I made mistakes, and it won’t happen again.”

My mouth opens, and then I close it, unsure what to say. Her loyalty to Ez is admirable, but it worries me that she’d go to extremes to protect him.

Wouldn’t I do the same for Rainer though?

“You shouldn’t carry the guilt of the Terra Prince’s death,” she says, drawing my attention back to her. “ That was not your fault.”

My first inclination is to separate our actions by justifying my own—to convince myself that we are two entirely different beings. But I would do the same thing if it came to Rainer. Technically, I already have—accepting my power to spare his life and taking the lord and lady’s lives. If they hadn’t been easily accessible, whose life would I have taken to assume my court?

Deep down, I know the truth: someone was going to die that day. I would’ve done anything to keep the realm from suffering, to keep Rainer and my other friends from facing a lethal fate.

“How do you go on?” I wave to the various herbs and concoctions laid out on the counter. “Like everything is fine. Like you’re not different now?”

Seraphina sighs, wiping her hands on a towel and planting her hands on the counter with her back to me. Then, she slowly turns toward me and tilts her chin up. “If I don’t, then it’s all for nothing. If I let my mistakes and regrets hold me back, I’m only taking another life—my own.” Her eyes harden. “That would be a waste of potential. There is so much else to be done in this world, Alessia.”

My features pinch together with the conflict of feelings inside me .

“You should know,” she says softly. “I can read auras—energy and intention.” Her eyes roam my body as if tracing an invisible outline. “Yours is one I seldom see. It’s like Ez’s. Which is why I fight for him the way I do.”

I look down at my hand, trying and failing to see the aura she’s speaking of. “And what is Ez’s like?”

She smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness. “Beautiful,” she whispers with a sigh. “You both are much too good for this world.”

My eyes water as the words strike me. She’s wrong—I’m not good. Not anymore. My insides are rotten, spoiled by the power I never wanted.

My throat tightens. “I should go.”

She nods, her lips pulling down on the sides. “If you want my advice? It’s time to accept that you are different now, Alessia. There’s no going back—you can only move forward.”

I nod, quickly leaving Seraphina and the unexpected comforts she offered me behind. Although her input wasn’t what I sought, her words were precisely what I needed. They stir a deep resonance within me.

But still, I don’t trust myself.