The Heir of Night

42

"And what did she suggest?" Nyx asked. His thumb ran along her knee, soothing touches as she trembled in his arms.

"To see my mother's grave." Her voice broke as she said the words. Nyx stopped moving his thumb, his body stiffening.

"Do you want to do that?"

"Is it wrong to not want to see her? I think it will be too real. I think I've been trying to forget that she... that she's dead. It will hurt too much," Theia murmured, sliding her hand from his chest to hook onto his neck.

"I think that it's your choice. People live in denial everyday, and it is up to you to decide whether or not you accept that truth. Your mother is gone, Theia. We can go to her grave, or we can lay here and forget the day happened."

Theia thought about that, about laying in his bed and letting the sound of his heartbeat carry her to sleep. She'd been sleeping too often, she'd been denying her mother's death too often. Those thoughts of joining Maia in the afterlife weren't as severe as they had been, but when Theia laid awake at night, she often thought about it.

The male that held her pushed those thoughts away when his sleeping body tugged her against him, but they still clouded her mind. She hadn't acted on it, even with her new freedom, but she still thought about how much of a burden she was to this family. A new mouth to feed, a distraction from Nyx's training, an annoyance to Feyre when she wanted to paint. Their worries would fall with her body. Wouldn't they?

"You're not killing yourself, Theia." She frowned, letting her nails press into the skin of his neck.

"Don't read my mind," she argued, though the fight was gone from her voice. Nyx pressed a kiss to her head.

"Don't think about ending your life, then. I know you want me to be soft with you, but I agree with Nesta. It's time to choose to face your mother's grave, or succumb to your depression. Become that living ghost again, or face it all."

Theia pulled her face from his neck, running her hand over her cheek to rid of the tears, though they kept falling. She wished they would stop.

"Can't I just ignore it a while longer?"

"I thought that might work, but then I remembered what you've become. Remember when you always fought with me? You don't do that anymore. You wander the halls of this house like you hardly possess a soul. You paint with my mother, yes, but what else? Lay in bed? As much as I'd love to be your distraction again, I don't think it's right anymore. I can't feed this mindset of yours, Theia. Let's start with Maia's grave, and then we will work on the rest of it."

She met his eyes, her stomach twisting. She didn't want to cry anymore, but she knew the tears would fall into the ground her mother laid in. She knew, through time, those tears would settle on Maia's body. Her sorrow would feed the earth that her mother's body was beneath, and perhaps, someday, flowers would grow from her skin like Theia had hoped for herself.

"Will you come with me?"

"Always."

Nyx leaned forward to kiss away a tear from her cheek. Theia closed her eyes, taking in another damned shaking breath. She'd hate herself for letting him see the worst of her grief, but she knew it wouldn't end well if she went alone.

"Where is she buried?"

"Madja buried her in the cemetery at the base of the southern mountain. I know where it is."

Something ached in her to know that Maia was buried in Velaris. Her mother had never visited this city, yet her body will lay in rest here for eternity. Theia nodded slowly, sighing heavily.

"I'll change, then we can go?" Nyx answered with another kiss to her cheek and his hands leaving her body. Theia slid from his lap and trudged to the door. She didn't look back to him, didn't want to see his pitying face until she was ready to break again.

Theia made it to her room after a long moment of sitting on the stairs. She stripped her paint stained clothes and decided a pretty gown would make her feel better. Maybe Maia would be there to greet her, maybe she'd like to see that Theia was no longer the dirt covered child she last saw. In honor of the life Maia always wished for, Theia pulled on a satin gown of midnight blue, the neckline hemmed to accommodate her wings.

Nyx was in the hallway when she opened the door. He had changed into black trousers and a buttoned coat with silver thread. He looked her over and gave her a soft smile. She didn't like that smile, it was carved with pity.

"It's a long walk. Can we winnow?"

Theia nodded, reaching to take his hand. Nyx squeezed her fingers and ran his thumb along hers. She took in a deep breath and decided she'd accept his pity for now. Theia stepped closer and let him place his arm around her waist, hand settled on her hip. She felt the lurch of time and space, their bodies flowing in darkness. She saw the snow covered field materialize, her stomach knotting.

"Your mother is buried over there," Nyx murmured, his hand motioning to the left. Theia trailed her eyes over the polished stones, the newer ones. To their right was an endless chart of cracked stones, though many still had flowers laid over them. Jasmine, snowdrops, primrose. The flowers of winter, she realized.

Perhaps Theia should've brought her own, because few graves were left untouched. It felt wrong to have Maia in such a place when her father and sister were buried in the war camp cemetery. She'd never visited them, never wanted to without Maia. Nyx began walking before Theia was ready. She stumbled in the thick snow, some falling into her unlaced boots.

"She's there," Nyx spoke. Theia saw it, saw the one grave that held only a death date. Her name was carved into the top, followed by 'beloved mother'. Her throat felt tight, her limbs numb. Nyx stopped walking, pulling his arm from her waist. She knew he'd stand behind her, not step over Maia's body.

Theia stumbled forward, dropping to her knees over the snow that still held upturned dirt. She bit down on her lip, running her finger over Maia's name.

"Hi, mama," she croaked. Snow melted under hot tears. It felt surreal to experience such sorrow for a female that hardly ever noticed her. Theia felt that anger as she thought of it. Maia didn't acknowledge Theia even when she stripped and bathed her. Her entire life, and she'd possibly only heard her voice a handful of times.

"I hate you," Theia rasped, dropping back onto her heels. She fisted the fabric of her skirt, staring at the gravestone with a wet glare. Her chin shook as she tried to reign in the shower of emotions. She wanted to curse her, to punch the stone that bared the evidence of her mother's death. Theia thought that she'd feel the grief and sorrow, but she only felt rage. With an echoing scream of frustration, Theia sent her knuckles against the stone.

Her skin tore by the third hit, her voice broke into sobs by the fourth. There was no deciphering the feelings. It was decades worth of anger and sorrow that fueled her cries, Theia knew it well. Unwelcome care and love for a female that never deserved it funneled into Theia's second scream. Snow turned red when her frustration turned to the ground that covered her mother's decaying body.