Page 16

There, where all my tears had fallen onto the floor, I watched as small, white flowers began to sprout from the cracks. They grew at an alarming rate, going from small sprouts to full grown flowers as high as my calf in just a couple of heartbeats.

A gasp escaped my lips, and I looked up at Robyn as I asked, “What does all of this mean?”

He looked like he had to physically force himself to look away from the flowers as his eyes met mine. Without a word, he closed the gap I had created between us, and gently gripped my chin.

My eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, and I tried to rip myself from his grip, but I was caught between the doorframe and his tall figure as he held firm on my chin and tilted my face up to meet his eyes, making my breath catch.

His eyes bored into mine, and I once again felt like he could see straight into my soul.

But if he was going to examine me, I was going to do the same. I stared into his eyes as the seconds stretched on, and in that moment I realized green might be my new favorite color.

His eyes flickered to my lips, then back up to my eyes. I felt my cheeks and ears turning red. I cleared my throat, interrupting whatever his train of thought might have been, and he seemed to understand as he took a step back, then another.

“This is going to sound crazy, but… I think you’re at least part Southern,” Robyn said abruptly.

I almost wanted to laugh, but when I thought about it, nothing else made sense.

Only the Southerners have green eyes, along with brown, while everybody in the North has solely shades of blue and gray.

And how else would the flowers have sprouted from my tears, if there wasn’t something more going on?

But I didn’t have to admit that to him.

“You’re crazy,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

“You know I’m right, I can feel it. If you have Southern zirilium, I can train you, Aviva. It would be my honor,” he said, and I could feel my frustration boiling up along with my zirilium. It made my skin itch.

“What are you going on about? I can’t wield anything. Weren’t you told that before you agreed to marry me?” I asked sarcastically, though the lie didn’t sound as convincing as I wanted it to.

“Like it or not, you’re my wife now. You and I are tied together.

The ink they use for royal marriage tattoos in the South is one of a kind.

It makes it so we can… sense each other.

Feel each other’s emotions. And right now, I can feel you’re lying.

Just as I can sense the power of your zirilium,” he said matter-of-factly.

I forced myself to keep my expression schooled, but panic threatened to overrule. He could sense my zirilium? And is this why I’d been able to feel what he had been feeling since the ceremony?

I took a step closer to him, crushing the white flowers under my feet as I kept my expression flat and said, “Listen, Robyn. I do not want, nor need, your help. I never will. We are husband and wife, but that is all. We are not friends.”

He seemed to deflate at my words, and he looked as though he wanted to push more, but decided against it. I could feel his disappointment in my own chest as he nodded once, then made for the door.

“I’ll… get this fixed,” he said awkwardly, motioning towards the door, then stepping through the remains of it, the fire of which had long been put out, and walked down the hall.

When I could no longer hear his footsteps, I found myself once again leaning on the doorframe of the washroom.

Slowly, I slid to the floor until I was level with the fragments of mirror, bottles, and elixir that had spread over the floor and splattered on the walls, running down like rain on a window.

Ever so slowly, I tore my mental wall down.

I had been too sick and uncomfortable yesterday to utilize it, but now it just seemed useless.

Just as I had built it, I ripped it down, brick by brick, thought by thought.

When I built it, it had been built with thoughts of who I was at the time.

The Princess of the North. My father’s daughter.

A twin. A wielder. Someone who was strong, and loyal, and sometimes reckless.

But now, I couldn’t place who I was if I had to pick myself out from a crowd.

I hadn’t even recognized myself in the mirror.

What use was a mental wall built with things that seemed a world away? Like they belonged to an entirely different person?

As I tore down those walls, the tears began to fall once again. It was like the reality of my situation was finally sinking in.

Maybe the wall had been a protection in that sense.

I watched as my tears became one with the puddles of elixir on the floor, and I watched until the tears made it impossible to see. Breathing became more and more difficult, until my chest hurt so badly I thought it might burst.

There I sat, sobbing uncontrollably with my wings wrapped around me and my arms around my knees, for who knows how long.

Who am I?