The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Sixty

When I returned home, Mam sat in her chair beside the fireplace, head propped up on a fist and eyes closed. Tear tracks trailed down her cheeks. She looked young—like a child who'd lost her way—but she also looked old and weary. She looked as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, and she'd begun to grow tired, dropping slowly to the ground until that heaviness crushed her completely.

A floorboard creaked beneath my foot, and Mam jolted upright. She stared at me for a moment. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"Fyra?" she said. "You came back."

She'd stood up in an instant, crossing the room in a few quick strides, pulling me into her arms. A sob tore through her.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, but when it was clear she wasn't going to let me go, I wrapped my own arms around her and squeezed back. We stood there for a few minutes, in silence but for Mam's occasional sobs.

When we pulled apart, she sighed and hiccuped. "I'm sorry, Fyra. I- I was too harsh on you."

I stared at her. I had expected many things from Mam—punishments, speeches, anger—but an apology had not been one of them. I didn't know what to do with it.

"I'm sorry," Mam repeated. "Can you forgive me, Fyra?"

No.

Yes.

The two answers fought a battle inside me, warring against each other even more fiercely than they had when I'd tried to forgive Bran.

Did Mam deserve my forgiveness? I didn't know. I thought not. If I hadn't been tough-skinned from the sly insults of the villagers, I certainly was now that I knew my own mam was against me. She'd hurt me with her words. Perhaps she hadn't realized they were going to cut so deep, but even so, she'd said them all the same.

Yet, at heart, she was no different from this town—no different from the villages and cities everywhere that treated Blesseds badly out of fear or hate. They didn't know any better. How could they? They'd been hoodwinked. Everyone had always said Blesseds were people with terrible, evil magic, so why would they believe any different? Why would they question the laws that were said to keep them safe?

The only solution was to show them the truth. The only solution was to show Mam the truth. She'd understand. She'd have to.

At least, I hoped she would.

"I forgive you," I said. "But I'm leaving."

Mam stared at me. "What?"

"I'm leaving. The Calamity—a ship of Blesseds we met while we were on the quest—is coming to pick us up, along with a few other Blesseds who the Head Man hasn't discovered." I hesitated. "I- I wondered: do you want to come? They've mostly got Blesseds up there, but I don't think they would mind if some Blessed's family joined."

"I can't leave the village." Mam glanced around as though someone was listening, and she lowered her voice. "You can't leave the village, Fyra. They'll catch you."

"No, they won't."

"Do you know when they're going to be coming?"

"Not yet," I admitted. "They'll tell us when they arrive, and we'll go from there."

"Can you get them to not come at all?"

I frowned. "No. I can't see why we'd want to. We need to get Reed out of here as soon as possible, before the Head Man executes him."

A sigh burst from Mam's lips. "Fyra, you can't do this. You're going to be putting all the people on that ship in danger. You're going to be putting us in danger. All of those Blesseds in one place..."