Crescent (Book 1)

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I hold that poor dead girl in my arms, rocking her gently until her body grows stiff. I smell the rot bubbling up from under her skin hours after her breathing stops. When I finally press her eyes closed with my palms, morning light graces the side of her face- the last gentle thing the world can give. Something I promised. Something that wasn't mine to give.

I don't know how long I hold her. I don't know when the servants come to carry the other bodies away. But no one bothers me until long into the day. Someone gently touches my back. I barely feel it. I feel so far away from the cold air, from the aching my body feels from sitting in the same place for so long.

Moira is the one to pull me to my feet. I don't have the strength to fight her. I hold Laura's cold hand one last time before I know she, too, will be carried away. Dirty red patches bleed into my white sweater, and my hands shake from the effort of trying to wipe it off. I claw at it, and then my feet stumble at the entryway to my room. My bed is unkempt just as I left it, but scalding steam wafts from a fresh bath prepared in the bathroom.

Guilt is like ice in my blood. I think of the soldiers slain in the forest. Or the dead guards at the party... Bright blood spilling freely from bodies or the smell of decay I can't get out of my nose.

Moira's voice is a distant echo behind me. She carries me to the tub, saying something I don't register before I lower myself into the tub without letting it cool. Something tells me it stings, something tells me it burns, but the feeling of it never comes.

Saren never comes to train. The servants never come to remind me about breakfast, or lunch, or whatever meal is supposed to come next. Time is nothing. I only move when dark has fallen, the tub like a pond of red around me. I hear Moira's voice again:

"Brenna?"

When I turn, she holds a tray of steaming food and my stomach howls at the sight. Eat. Breathe. Move, a voice tells me. Laura's small reddened body flashes behind my eyes. That poor girl is dead. You aren't, a voice reminds me.

With shaky arms, I lift myself out of the tub and find a change of clothes from my armoire. I dress slowly, eat even slower, and mumble thanks as Moira turns to leave. Her lips turn down, eyes full of the same pitying look I'm sure I've given her before. She bows and leaves as soon as I've finished my plate.

The moon shines ivory bright again when sleep finally pulls me in. The nightmares of blood and snow return. I see Laura's brown eyes begging me for help as the life drains from them. I see the rabid look in Ceth's eyes as he snaps her neck. The dream of it tortures me again and again and again. I'm sure I'll remember it forever.