Queen of Shattered Dreams

24 - Time to Say Goodbye

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The next morning, I wait in Hassiba's rooms for her. I lost sleep last night, lying awake in bed—trying to decide the best course of action. Hassiba can't possibly live. There will be no quiet cottage life for her, not as she is at least. She knows too much, both about me and about magic. She won't remain quiet about Dendrite's death either. Even if she felt I was the closest thing to a daughter it wouldn't preclude any possible connection to Dendrite. Hassiba seems to have a strange kind of affection for her that no one else could muster.

    Still, I do hate to lose Hassiba.

    For no matter what I choose to do with her—it will be a loss.

    I walk through the room as though it were mine, because over the past few years it has come to feel as though it is mine, in part. The books and herbs, the mortar and pestle, even the scratched wooden table where we made so many potions together. I rub my finger along a particularly deep gash in the wood, worn smooth over the years. I don't know how the gash came to be there. It could have existed before even I did.

    I suppose some scars are like that, deep and painful but over time they soften and fade and the people who caused them are no longer there to explain. But can I ever forget?

    Hassiba enters the room. She's rubbing a hand along one side of her face. Her eyes are closed so she doesn't see me at first. Her long braid is fraying, wisps of hair frame her cheeks. There are specks of blood on her dress and arms.

    She's been with Lady Bryde. Of course she would have called for Hassiba when the pain persisted or when the bleeding began. For a brief moment I allow myself to wonder at how Lady Bryde must have felt: the pain, the fear, the sadness. I hold my own stomach. I may not have ever lost a pregnancy, but there are numerous opportunities to become pregnant that I was never allowed to have. And that was due to the woman standing before me, exhausted from a night of trying to save some other woman's child.

    She should have saved mine.

    When Hassiba finally opens her eyes and catches sight of me, there's silent resignation in her expression, either because she's exhausted or because she knows exactly why I'm here. It could very well be both. Hassiba has always been quick and cunning. Nothing gets past her—except maybe what I'm planning to do now.

    "My Queen." Her tone is flat, as though she's cursing me. I miss the friendliness and warmth that was always in her voice—before I discovered her secret. Was she ever my friend or was she a much better actress than even Lady Bryde? I find myself hoping that she had loved me the way I loved her—not that it would make any of this easier to do.

    "Hassiba." I straighten my shoulders and match her tone. My eyes fall to the blood on her gown, ready to ask her how Lady Bryde is but I stop myself because then Hassiba would know it's my doing. But what could that possibly matter now? I could confess a lifetime of sins to her and before I even leave this room they'll be sealed and safe again.

    She follows my gaze. "Lady Bryde lost her baby."

    I don't feign surprise. In these final moments I don't want either of us to pretend. I take a step closer. "Good," I say. "It's better this way." And it truly is for her. With Feodor gone there'd be no one to protect her. Her reputation would be soiled for the rest of her life.

    Hassiba raises her eyebrows. Does my apparent kindness surprise her? Have I changed so much in such a short time? She doesn't object, though. Deep down she knows it too, no matter how Lady Bryde may have reacted to losing the child.

    I swallow. There's nothing left to say. I could certainly try though—ask her about the gash on the table, ask her if she was ever really my friend. But I can feel the magic tingling in my fingertips, begging to be released. A few more steps and I close the distance between us. I put a palm to Hassiba's cheek. She flinches and then relaxes when she realizes I'm not going to hurt her.