Читать онлайн «The Shadow's Heir»

She knew what it meant. She had always known what it would mean. In a way, she had been waiting for it her entire life. But nothing could have prepared her for it. And nothing could have dulled the shock. But what possibly could have?

She sat on her stool by the front door of their house, slowly whittling a piece of wood. It had been much larger when she had started, but by now it resembled a very thin carrot. Curled wood shavings were piled up between her feet. Some had caught on the rough wool of her dress, but she couldn’t summon up the energy or interest to brush them off.

She couldn’t keep her attention on her knife, either; she let it slide away toward the sky and stared vacantly at the white clouds drifting over it. It would be another fine day tomorrow.

The knife slipped, and she started at the sudden blossoming of pain in her hand. It woke her from her reverie, and she put the knife down and hastily covered the cut with the edge of her skirt.

As if the pain were a kind of release, she let go of her hand and started to cry.

The tears didn’t last long. She fiercely wiped them away on her sleeve and bit back her sobs until they left her shuddering with them before they died away. The anger she felt toward herself gave her strength, and she stuffed her knife into her belt and strode over to the rain barrel.

The cold water made her feel a little better. She splashed it over her face until her fringe was dripping and took several deep breaths. As the water’s surface stilled again, she looked down into it and saw her own faint reflection rippling there.

Pale skin, with a scatter of freckles over a pointed nose. Her eyes were blue, but above them her eyebrows were jet-black, and the long, curly hair she tried to keep tied back and covered was black as well.

She stared at it and shuddered again. Gryphus help me, if only I could cut it all off. If I could only hide it!

She had tried, many many times. She had tried dye, but there was no dye that could overpower pure black.

She let out a sudden, wild scream, and punched the water, shattering her reflection. The anger bubbled inside her as she turned away, and she wanted to scream again, or hit something else, but she knew it wouldn’t help anything.

No point to anything, said the cold, rational side of her mind. Never was, never will be.

But this was her fault. Always had been.

Stop it. He needs you.

The voice was right. She straightened up, forcing herself to breathe deeply, and went inside.

Her father was there, hunched in his favourite chair by the fire. For a moment she thought he was asleep, but then he stirred and coughed.

“Laela. C’mere. ”

She went to him. “Dad, how’re yeh feelin’?”

He peered at her. “Like shit. Where’ve yeh been?”

“Just outside, Dad. Not far. ”

“Yeh know y’ain’t s’posed t’go out there, girl,” he reminded her. “Temptin’ fate ain’t what yeh need t’be doin’ just now. ”