Page 19 of Severed Heart (The Ravenhood Legacy #2)

Time, which many claim is a healer, has been anything but for me. My underwater mind refusing me of all forward progress while making a goddamned fool of me.

It’s the haze that works against me, blurring my days and weeks.

The haze which muddles my memories, bringing me back and to, confusing me, paralyzing me.

Even as I cleanse myself over and over for God, seeking His attention, my prayers for clarity are never heard—refused.

My sins too many to cleanse, to garner His attention.

“Delphine? You okay in there?”

“I need . . .”

Eyeing my bedroom doorknob from the tub, I squint to see it start to turn. Capping my bottle, I rise slowly from the water, grabbing my towel and palming it over my chest. “Tyler, do not come in!”

“I’m not ... I-I wouldn’t.” His confusion has me blinking to realize the knob has not turned by a fraction.

Get it together, Delphine, and get rid of the boy!

Because that’s all he is, a boy. A harmless boy.

It’s my fear that sneaks its way in as I keep focused on the knob.

Boys turn into men.

“How could you leave me to raise what I despise?”

The hem of my towel soaks as it dances along the top of the water as I remain paralyzed by fear in the corner of the tub. My eyes transfixed on the cheap brass knob with the worthless lock.

“Delphine?”

“I need five minutes!”

“Sounds good,” Tyler calls back as I rip my eyes from the knob and sip the bottle until the fear starts to slither away, coiling itself back into the darkest part of my water-drenched mind—readying itself for the next time.

Unplugging the drain, I retrieve what’s left of my bottle, capping it before redressing in my robe. Tugging down my sleeves, I clear my eyes before walking out to dismiss Tyler. I cannot possibly help him and am in no position to do so. Whatever this foolish boy seeks or sees in me is delusion.

Opening my mouth to send him home, the words are muted when I see Tyler has aligned our individual armies perfectly on opposite sides of the table. The sight of it sparks a distant excitement inside me—a flicker of a simpler time.

Of a time when I was brave. Before the haze and blur. A welcome feeling in exchange for fear and confusion. It’s when I take in the expression of the wide-eyed boy, eyes patient and imploring, which seek my approval, that I falter, unable to deny him.

“This is very good,” I compliment as I lift one of the soldiers, brushing my fingers over it.

“I think I see where you’re going with this, Yoda ,” he jokes enthusiastically in an effort to appease me. Kind. Always so kind.

“Do you?” I reply, hearing the lingering shake in my voice, willing the burning inside my chest to subside as the numb starts to take hold, relieving me.

“It’s a game I have played since I was very young ... Bataille,” I whisper.

“Battle,” Tyler translates easily as he scans the soldiers. “If I would have known this is what I was prepping for, I would have cut off a few more days.”

I roll my eyes at his arrogance. “You will not be so smug when I take your army down, private .”

My threat does not deter him as he lifts one of his soldiers. “So, who taught you?”

“Matis.” I slide into the chair opposite of him.

“Matis?”

“My father,” I clarify, to which he gives me a forlorn nod. Tyler ran here tonight, and by the look of him, it seems he did not plan to come. As I scrutinize him, that truth becomes more obvious. He has not yet memorized the books but came to seek refuge from his life at home.

Stupid boy. What refuge could he possibly see in me?

In needing and seeking my own escape, I decide not to reject him.

“What?” He peers over at me, realizing how closely I’m watching him.

“Study your opponent,” I instruct. “Memorize them. In every exchange, look for tells, for lies, and most important, for weakness.”

He nods quickly—too quickly—and I’m unsure if he heeds my warning.

“So, T played this?” he asks, positioning his men, his question because of his affection and bond with Ezekiel.

“Yes, and he was very, very good.”

“Challenge accepted,” he draws out. “Did he ever beat you ?”

“Never,” I relay with a grin, pushing up my sleeves so as not to knock any of my soldiers over.

It’s when Tyler stills that I look up to see his gaze locked on my forearm.

I follow his focus to see the angry red teeth marks and the surrounding swollen skin before quickly pulling my sleeves back down.

“Ezekiel was a very skilled,” I continue, “very wise opponent,” I manage without shake before unscrewing the cap of my bottle.

“Well, this”—his tone lifts to match mine—“right here is my task to master ,” he informs me with no shortage of ambition. One I don’t dismiss easily this time.

Instead, I nod in silent confirmation, fully aware of Ezekiel’s plans.

Plans my oldest nephew is now putting into motion with Ormand’s help—the first contact I gave him when he landed in France. My intention for making that connection is to help aid Ezekiel in his quest to do what I didn’t—avenge Celine and Beau.

Another of my failures that Ezekiel took upon himself to rectify. More weight that lays heavily on my soul, but weight I’m thankful for.

“Delphine?” Tyler drawls. “Where did you go?”

“Shh,” I whisper, “know your enemy.”

I focus on my new and willing opponent as he does the same. An opponent that, in truth, is an ally, eager to take on a part of Ezekiel and Dominic’s quest. Tyler seems to catch on as he stares right back at me, raising his chin, unflinching.

It’s in Tyler’s unwavering gaze that I allow myself to think mentoring him could be another chance to do my part—to honor Celine.

A chance for vengeance that the haze denied me.

A chance that Dominic continues to refuse me.

Maybe with true effort, Tyler will grant me the ability to right some of my wrongs.

A start that I’ve attempted for years while fighting through the haze and numbing with drink.

To try.

“Let’s begin.”