Splintered

Chapter Sixty: Full Plates, Empty Chair

Turning the page, another scrap of paper lettered out more poetic words, similar in tone and rhythm to those of Cress and Mayor Shepherd:

Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea!

And never a saint took pity on

My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!

And they all dead did lie:

And a thousand thousand slimy things

Lived on; and so did I.

This scrap was yellowing and curling dreadfully, like tears had wrinkled it.

The next pages were all handwritten letters, most addressed to Silus. Every day was a new page. Every day since Silus bled to death in her arms. Hazel locked her jaw and battled to keep her own tears from warping the paper any further.

Taped in the very back of the journal, something shiny winked at her. She spun to it. Smiling up at her was her own face, along with Silus and Rowan. A photograph of them when they were younger, happier, and whole. Yet it wasn't the only photo bound to the cover. Next to it was another of a strikingly beautiful young woman. She was lean with smooth, dark skin, hair pulled up into a scarf that matched her dress. Scribbled below it was the inscription: Dahlia.

Hazel's heart twinged, and she could no longer keep the tears at bay. The pain her brother was in, socked her in the gut. Rowan had been through more loss than most for his age, and it was apparent that she wasn't the only one talking to ghosts.

Turning back to the last entry, she couldn't help herself. She read the words Rowan had written to their brother.

Si,

Me again. Word is, Haze is coming home tomorrow, but with him, of course. I can't stand being surrounded by them, Si. I'm sure you couldn't either.

Someday I'm going to do what dad couldn't, what he should've.

I'm going to get them out. All of them. Save them like he should've saved you.

Someday we'll sail away from all of it, and we'll either make it to shore or I'll see you in the forever forest, brother.

Abject dread sliced through Hazel.

"Ro, what have you done?"

She spun, staring at the room around her.

He never unpacked because he was never going to stay.

Was his mind as poisoned with dreams of a safe haven like Vetch and Winnow?

Stashing the journal in her coat, she rushed to leave. Ripping the door open, a set of sky blue eyes waited.

"Sweetheart, are you looking for something?" Fern asked, light brown brows flexing, seeming to notice the glistening in her daughter's eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Just homesick, Mom." Hazel swallowed down her rising panic. "Do you know where Rowan is?"

Fern accepted the answer, shrugging, "Off with his friends. He doesn't spend much time at home anymore, like his father."

That was what she was worried about.

Hazel scowled, "What friends?"

"Holt, I think, is one of them," Fern replied, distracted by the bickering coming from one of the twins' rooms.