Chapter Text
“I cannot compel you to live, if you are determined otherwise. But you will not sacrifice yourself for my sake.”
Malenia released Millicent’s hand and waited, alert to the slightest of sounds. She waited for a shift in the air, a rustle of clothing, anything that might indicate a move toward the needle. She heard only the crackling of the Haligtree’s dry leaves and the slow, shuddering breaths of someone trying to hold back tears.
A sob cut through the silence, stifled just as abruptly.
She reached out, hand hovering just short of where she knew Millicent to be. The girl had been so wary of her, nearly recoiling at every touch. Malenia moved slowly, leaving space for Millicent to pull away if she so desired. Her fingertips brushed the sharp angle of an elbow. Millicent offered no resistance when Malenia nudged her forward.
Very carefully, she drew the girl -- her daughter -- into her embrace. Another sob, sharp and ragged. Malenia had scarce experience comforting people, but the words came easily enough. Here, at least, she knew what to say. She knew what she had longed to hear when she was Millicent’s age.
“You are not a plague. Not a curse. You are my daughter, Millicent, and you are home.”
Millicent’s arm remained limp at her side, but she leaned into the embrace, and she wept, sounding as if her heart were being torn from her chest with each sob. Malenia held her, silently rubbing her back until the sobs turned to quiet tears, and then to soft, shaky breathing.
“Come with me.” She carefully turned Millicent away from the edge and back toward the Haligtree, keeping an arm around her shoulders. “The Rot is not a death sentence, not here. We can help you.”
***
The short journey ended in Miquella’s study. She had allowed Malenia to lead her, too exhausted to question.
As she slumped into the offered chair, Millicent vaguely recalled that she’d left her arm at the top of the Haligtree. For the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
The duty of certain death had evaporated, and with it the unbearable tension that had driven her onward since Ordina. Now she felt hollow, adrift in the void where she had once held an unshakeable purpose, however terrible it might have been.
Miquella entered before she could think to gather herself. He took in her missing arm, the half-dried tears on her face. Golden eyes flooded with concern, asking questions she lacked the will to answer.
“She is not a natural-born child.” Malenia’s words would have cut if not for the hand that still enveloped her shoulder, warm and heavy. “She tells me that she was formed from the Rot itself.”
Miquella’s gaze darted from his sister back to Millicent. “You couldn’t be one of the kindred. If you were born entirely of Rot, my needle would have killed you.”
“She carries a piece of our shared soul, cast off after the Battle of Aeonia.”
Millicent forced her voice to rouse. “I didn’t lie to you,” she rasped, “at the Temple. I didn’t know what I was then.”
He nodded slowly. She could already see his agile mind slotting the pieces together. “But you remembered after Ordina?”
Malenia squeezed her shoulder. She could feel the pressure building in her chest once more, though she’d been sure she had no more tears to shed. “I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t look at him. He wouldn’t be angry at her deception. He’d be hurt, and that would be worse.
“Millicent, you could have told me.”
“I wanted to, but...” The words choked off, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “I never meant to endanger the Haligtree, but I had to return what I had stolen from Malenia. I never thought I’d survive--”
Talons clicked against the wooden floor. For the second time, she was enveloped in a warm embrace. Miquella’s arms wove around her, as if he could curl his lanky body into a protective cocoon.
“Millicent...”
Fresh tears poured down her cheeks. She felt sure that she’d wept more in the past hour than she had in her life, but now that she’d started she couldn’t seem to stop. How long they remained like that, Miquella’s heartbeat against her cheek and Malenia’s hand pressing reassuringly against her back, she neither knew nor cared. A spark of warmth ignited in the void, and for now that was enough.
“Can she be helped?” Malenia’s soft query broke the silence. “The Rot is a parasite upon me, while she is at least partially formed of it. Would a cure for me be poison to her?”
“The needle worked as intended,” he affirmed. “There is hope. She’s more herself than she is the Rot.”
He leaned out of the embrace, just enough for Millicent to see his smile. “You didn’t entirely fool me, you know. I had my suspicions that we were all of a set.”
Millicent smiled back, and for once it didn’t feel like a mask.