She gasps. “You were attacked, and no one in this family saw fit to inform me of it?”
Her words cut into me as guilt floods my senses. It was unfair to keep it from her, but selfishly, I didn’t want to be banished to the house. She’s always trying to keep me hidden away and protected. Suddenly, I question if there’s something more to this. The other kids never stopped attending school or completed home studies work. Suspicion gnaws at my thoughts as I formulate a response.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I didn’t want to be trapped here.” My confession crumples her face.
“I was afraid this is why you kept a secret from me,” she whispers.
“Why? What are you not telling me?” I demand, taking what might be my only opportunity for a confession.
“What are you not telling me, Mercy? What attacked you?”
She saidwhat, not who.She knows more than she’s letting on. “A six-winged, hideous creature. But Tavien couldn’t see it.”
I wait for her to tell me to stop with my stories or accuse me of lying. But she doesn’t. My mother stares at me in a silent submission—an acknowledgment she knows this creature is real, and maybe there’s something more to her actions. I wait for her to offer something in return, but it’s clear she’s not willing to share anything further.
“If you aren’t going to tell me, you’re driving a wedge between us. I deserve to know why I’m never allowed out of your sight. And don’t tell me it’s because you love me so much.”
I blink back a tear, steadying my trembling voice, and continue, “Tell me why I’m being followed and attacked. Explain to me why I’m not allowed to see Azrael.”
I fire question after question. “Why does my father hate me so much he wants to sell me off?” My chin quivers as I fight to hold myself together.
“I’m not ten anymore. I’m almost twenty-two. I should be falling in love and building a life. Instead, I’m forced to remain here—hidden away from the world. I’m so lonely. All I have is Miriam.” I clamp my jaw shut, almost letting her secret slip. I won’t betray Miriam.
My mother looks at me, on the verge of tears. Normally, I would break and apologize, but not this time. I’m so angry. I’m so tired of living with constant fear.
“You’re right. You deserve to know. I guess it’s time I finally tell you the truth.”
I stare at her in disbelief. It feels too easy.
“The truth? What have you been hiding from me, Mother? I trusted you. I’ve always cared for you and trusted you. Have I not been a good enough daughter to you?” I ask, fighting back the tears threatening to escape.
“Finish your tea, and then come sit with me inside. I will tell you everything, but not out here. Not where someone might hear us.” My mother stands, cup and saucer in hand, strolling inside as if in a daze.
I gulp my tea down in four swallows. What can the truth be? My pulse quickens, the tea already turning in my stomach as I try to fathom what my mother could possibly be hiding. Standing, I place my empty cup and saucer on the tray. My feet are heavy as I trudge my way into the house, casting one last look at the sun in longing as dread consumes me.
Inside, I find she’s already washed her dishes and is sitting on the sofa, staring ahead blankly. If she notices me come in, she doesn’t acknowledge it. First, I wash my dishes, then I sit down next to my mother, turning to face her.
“Please, Mother. Tell me everything.”
She nods, opening and closing her mouth, then clears her throat. We sit in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes. The air feels heavy and thick. It’s hard to breathe. In the background, birds chirp happily outside the window.
“Mother,” I plead, “tell me.”
She blinks, her facial features unfreezing as if she was lost in the memories she’s hiding from me. Wringing her hands, she takes a shaky breath. “Promise me, Mercy, that you’ll find a way to forgive me.”
My stomach drops, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. The room spins and I swallow back the urge to be sick. I can’t bring myself to promise. I nod my head in agreement, desperate for the truth.
“I was twenty. Your father and I were recently married. I met him during the trade wars. Like Miriam, I worked in my father’s market. He arrived on one of the many ships of refugees.”
This isn’t new information. I know how my parents met and that my grandfather offered my father a job at one point, but he refused any handouts. Relaxing slightly, I lean into the sofa, waiting for her to explain.
“The factory didn’t exist yet, and the high lords were paying a lot of money to recruit men for recovery missions. They were to sail to the other cities across the different seas in order to track down missing supplies or trades that were looted. They also spread the word about moving to the continent—gathering more refugees with the promise of work and a better life.” Her shoulders shake as she fights to maintain her own composure.
“Your father was gone on one of these missions when it came to me. A creature of the Divine with many wings and a beautiful voice. It convinced me I was special. Whispered secrets to me and made me promise never to tell anyone else about it.” She chokes back a sob.
I reach for my mother’s hands, dreading whatever is coming next. “What happened, Mother?” I coax gently.
“I stupidly believed it, and it came to visit me nearly every time your father was gone. One night the creature appeared, talking on and on about how special I was and forgiveness, about the importance of our secret, and then—” Another sob rips from her chest.
