Page 97 of Joy Guardian
“We didn’t tell you because we tried to protect you, Dawn.” I pressed my cheek to her soft hair. “Everyone always tried to shield you from the worst.”
“Why?” she asked with a shuddering breath.
“Because you were the baby in the family. No one wished to upset you. Besides, it made us all feel better to see you smiling and happy even when things were going really shitty.”
“But Melanie knew?”
“She did. She was older, and she somehow always felt responsible for your family, even when she was very small. The last time I talked to her heart to heart was during my last summer back homebefore I moved to the city with Dylan.” I heaved a sigh, but thoughts about my life’s worst mistake didn't hurt nearly as much as they used to. “Melanie was only thirteen at that time, but she already knew she wanted to study business. She said she wanted to learn how to make lots of money. And when I asked her what she was planning to do with all that money, she said she would buy a big house where all of us could live together—your family and me. She said I would read you stories and you could dance for all of us. I asked what if Dawn wanted to live in her own house. She said that you may not be able to have one because not all dancers are paid well. Then I said maybe you would quit dancing and do something else. And she laughed. She said you would never quit dancing, that you loved it more than anything, and that you should be able to keep doing it because the world needs dancers too.”
“That’s not how she talked about dance when she got older,” Dawn said.
“Maybe things change. But not as much as we think. Deep inside, the connection to the children we once were is always there. Sometimes it just takes a little reflection to find it again. Trust me. I know. I’ve done a lot of thinking lately. But regardless of why Melanie came back, she thought about you when she got here. See?” I pointed at the bookmark clutched in Dawn’s hand. “Her note that the entire civilization of the shadow fae has admired as words of encouragement and inspiration throughout their history was really meant to comfortyou. Melanie always loved you, even when she didn’t show it well.”
A tear fell from her eyelashes and rolled down her cheek.
“Aww, don’t cry, baby cousin.” I hugged her tighter.
“I’m twenty-five,” she sniffled, burying her face in my shoulder. “You’re thebaby cousinnow.”
That was true. In a weird turn of events, my baby cousin was now three years older than me. But right now, when she sobbed on my shoulder like this, to me, she remained the little girl who cried when she fell from her tricycle and scraped her knee.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, stroking her back soothingly. “You can still be my baby cousin whenever you need a shoulder to cry on. You’re my only family, Dawn. It’s just you and me now.”
“It’s more than I thought I had. Ciana, I thought you were dead. How did you escape Kalmena?”
“Oh, that’s a long story.”
Jotti returned, bringing a plate of rice with meat and vegetables for me.
“Greetings, Lady Dawn.” She bowed. “Would you like me to bring a dish for you too?”
“Thank you, but I’ve already eaten.” Dawn pulled me by my hand toward the sitting cushions by one of the fountains.
Jotti waited for us to sit down before placing the tray with food in my lap.
“You have to tell me everything.” Dawn said to me after Jotti left. “I’m so freaking happy you’re here. But how did you know to come to Teneris?”
“Elaine told me to come here.”
“You saw Elaine?” She stared at me, startled.
“She really is your friend, isn’t she? And I didn’t believe her. It’s still so hard for me to wrap my mind around it all.”
“But you know Elaine, Ciana. You’ve seen her. Remember? She was at my birthday party at the movie theater that you came to, the year before you left. A short girl with glasses in a corduroy bib coverall. Elaine went through a long phase of love for corduroy in elementary school.”
Now that she described her, I remembered Elaine as the adorable, quiet girl with pigtails who ate too many cupcakes at the party, then asked me where the bathroom was.
“I remember,” I said. “But she’s changed since. No corduroy and no glasses. And over a decade older. I didn’t recognize her.”
“She lost her glasses. She can hardly see without them…” Dawn’s bottom lip trembled. She swallowed hard, composing herself. “I’m worried sick about her. They took her by the temple where the portal was open. Where did you see her?”
“In the camp of the low lives who catch and sell people. Elaine and I shared a cage.”
“Oh, my God.” Dawn gripped her throat. “How can they treat people like that?”
“We’re not people to them, Dawn. They see us as sources of pleasure to be sold, consumed, and traded.”
A shudder ran through me at the memory of the hyacinth tea and what it did to Peter and Maria. But I decided not to tell Dawn about that yet. She seemed too upset already.
