Cobalt Crown - Book One

14 Worth It

     Kyrael sat awake in bed, the thoughts of the day weighing on her mind. You're an idiot! She thought, berating herself once again. It seemed like the thousandth time.

     Why was she like this? What made her want to know everything? It's those damn knights' fault, if they had never come here, I wouldn't be feeling like this! She was amaze at her ability to lie to herself. What am I trying to do? Do I expect them to take me away to a castle and give me servants and throw me fine parties? She laughed internally. I don't even think I would want that. I just want him back. I want to hug him again. I want to see him be outsmarted by mother and smile at her wit.

     She didn't mean to remember him, but memories came flooding back anyway. The sun on their faces, wind in their hair. The smell of earth and mountain air filled their nostrils. It was a warm day, and they had gone out with her brother to do some exploring. Another habit that her passed on to her, like her nosey ears.

     They had gone south of Kinsweyr, and into the surrounding forests. This part of the forest had no name, since no one had explored it officially and made the claim to any sort of authority. Kyrael knew he had no intentions of claiming it, but every intention of seeing it. He had always been like that. He found a way to find the subtle miracles in every piece of the world.

     "Come look at this," he said, waving back at Kyrael and Iain. "It's easy to miss."

     They caught up quickly, excited to see something new and interesting. Excited to learn from their father.

     "It's a bunch of sticks," Kyrael said. "A buss a stick," a baby Iain repeated as best as he could.

     "Almost," Bernard replied. "It's a bird's nest. They'll gather sticks and put them together to make a bed for their eggs."

     Kyrael and Iain listened in amazement. The whole of the world seemed to be in front of them.

     Suddenly, she was back in her room. The face of her father disappeared from her, replaced with the roof of her room. She reflected on the many lessons he had taught them. Each one had to do with nature. The pain returned. A dull ache, so embedded in her soul that it was no longer removable. She found herself expecting tears to come, as they had come so many times before. But they did not come. A part of her wanted the tears. She wanted their familiar comfort to guide her away from the pain. But a deeper part of her realized that more tears would not bring him back. Nothing could. She wasn't ready to live without him. She wasn't ready to be an apothecary. She wasn't ready to move on. Despite her stagnation, her body had already begun the process. She had run out of tears.

     Is this the end of sorrow? There's no relief, we just learn not to cry? Is this what we live with, this heaviness?

     It was too much to bear for one person, a great stone that weighed her down.

     It's not worth it.

     The clock tower chimed in the darkness of the night. And its bells sang seven songs.