Page 47 of A Broken Promise (the Freckled Fate #1)

47

T he heavy silver clouds bathed in the moonlight above me. My hands were freezing in the winter air. I ran.

I ran towards the familiar golden gates; towards the house I called home for so long.

Priya’s goodbye still rang in my mind loud and clear with each step I took. The ball, explosions, Kahors, Rebels, Inadios, capture, escape, Priya, and so, so much death. It felt as if my soul couldn’t take it anymore. Yet I ran on, biting my cheek occasionally to stop tears from flowing.

The warm house and the welcoming lights embraced me as I walked up familiar stairs. I fought the urge to fall down on the couch, to close my eyes and hope that today was just one of my dreams, my nightmares, to rest just for a minute from the complete exhaustion I was debilitated with, but I had to go, and I had to go now.

I scrubbed my frozen blood-covered hands until they were almost raw, washing off the mix of make-up and blood off my face and rinsing off my hair from the Kahor’s stench, tying my hair into a tight ponytail.

I quickly changed into the leathers, grabbed all the money I had and threw on my winter cloak. I zipped up my leather boots, putting the daggers and pins into them. I threw my shoulder bag on, stuffing in a few provisions. I put Kaius's ring on the same chain holding Tuluma’s amulet and hid it well under my leathers. Heart Piercer was now securely stored within reach and a large Basalt Glass arrow hid well under my cloak.

I took the little present I got for Priya and left it in the laboratory with a note. A note that said to come find me when she was ready to talk.

I would welcome her back. I would forgive her.

You choose forgiveness over justice, and it really shows .

Priya’s voice rung in my mind as I quickly wiped a tear sliding down my cheek.

The scars she ripped opened bled deep.

With poisons and all matter of weaponry packed on me, I stood in the entrance hall still, glancing over it as I said my silent goodbye to the sleeping Ratika, to the beautiful art I stared at so much each day, to the stacks of books and fairytales I read each day, to the clean bandages folded neatly, awaiting the next sparring match to be used.

I knew I wouldn’t miss the luxury or the comfort, though I genuinely enjoyed it, but I would miss the safe haven this place had become for me. A place that gave me a moment to rest, to breathe, to process and to grow. A place that reminded me that I am capable of more.

At last, I glanced far to the corner that led to the laundry room. My own kind of solace.

“Goodbye,” I whispered sadly and slipped into the dark.