215 - Ypou Should Be Angry
“Am I?”
He was breathing heavily, curling and uncurling his fists.
“Do I look like a saint to you?!” Her voice had lost its gentleness now.
“What would you call this?”
A moment of silence lapsed between them. She adjusted her blanket and laid on it. “You should go to sleep, you need it.”
He scoffed, his fists pushing into the mattress. “If you are doing this for Ka’ik, hoping that something would come out of it, hoping that it will buy me over then you are wrong.”
“Go to sleep. It will give you strength and a clear head—”
He was right by her side in a second, he yanked her hand so she was forced to sit and turn to him, his closeness ensuring that he was all she could see. “You should be angry!” He yelled in her face.
It was like a switch had flicked in her head. There was nothing in her eyes but madness, her face a mask of rage.
“Well, I am!” She snapped her hand away from him. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet but that didn’t hide away the rage spilling through her veins. “I thought to myself that it would be easier for me to have you dead, I thought to myself that it was best not to get involved.” As she spoke, she rose to her feet and he did the same, holding her gaze, watching her every move, tension in his shoulders. “Why should I save a wolf that wouldn't allow me to see my daughter? One that would always call me a monster, one that tried to kill me just because he marked me?”
He staggered back, her silent rage reaching him, as he looked at her, speechless by her anger.
“I thought about it over and over again. This would cost me too much, my place, my safety all for someone that didn't care. I didn't do it because of you, George… or Ka’ik. Losing a mate would not kill me, not the type you are to me. We share no love and with your wolf, I would grieve surely but that would be all. I would be eliminating a creature that was after my life just because I carry a miserable mark he placed there. Your death would have been the best thing for me. I think…” she laughed. “I think I even wanted it.”
“Delice.”
“Shut up. You will listen while I speak. You owe me that much.”
He sealed his lips, his gaze fixed on the ground. His wolf had recoiled into a deep part of his mind, Delice’s words had hurt him and he wasn't even blaming her for any of it, but was blaming him.
“I’m not your pathetic mate that wants to desperately please you, one that will do anything and everything for you. I am not desperate for you. You are not worth it.” She paused, feeling the words hurt her too. “I’m sorry Ka’ik but I did it all for my daughter. Why should Mira lose her father? See, I am a better parent.”
He looked up at her sharply, words failing him momentarily.
“I’m sorry, I punished you for something you had no control over.”
That was what she had been trying to tell him. But now that he was realizing it, it felt too late.
“Get some sleep. You need it.”
“Delice?”
She didn’t respond, instead, she walked to the bed.
“Delice.”
She settled in bed and pulled the covers.
“The night my family died haunts me. I—-“
“It is alright, I understand.”
“But you didn’t even wait to hear me speak it all.”
She scoffed. “That will be too much of a chance than you have ever given me. You sleep on the floor.”
The room lapsed into silence, she laid in the bed with her back turned to him. For some reason, he couldn’t look away, he couldn't move, he was conflicted; something had changed.
He felt a wall between them, it had always been there but now, he noticed. Not Ka’ik noticing, he noticed.
It was such a strange feeling he didn’t know where to place it.
Was she asleep already?
“None of us are saints now, are we?” It was so unexpected for her to speak that her words caught him unawares. “But then I was part of the White Circle, believe me when I say I understand. None of this is your fault, they will find the culprit and we will be reunited with our daughter again.”
She didn’t speak to him again. He sat on the floor, thinking. Finally, he said, “Thank you for everything and I am sorry for everything.”
He didn’t know if she heard him, maybe she was even asleep. He couldn’t tell, she was unmoving and there was no heartbeat to track.
Many thoughts ran through his mind, most especially how awful he had been to Delice, how his life had taken the most drastic turn and she was here despite, and finally how he was no longer the werewolf he used to be.
He wept silently.
Then he grieved Aunt Alice and wept even more. For everything he had lost he grieved and because he felt lonely in his grief, he pulled the blankets on the floor into his arms and wept into them; ensuring to stay silent as he could while every belief he held dear crashed around him.
——-
——-
Nicholas stepped into his room. The Castle was chaotic but his mind might be in an even more chaotic state. He really needed to talk to Irysi.
His phone rang and he dug into his pocket to pull it out, his eyes widened with surprise at the name displayed on the screen.
Finally.
She wasn’t just answering his call, no. She called him herself!
“Iriysi? Iriysi?!” She was speaking but he couldn’t hear her so he stepped out for a better reception. “Do not hang up, Irysi, please keep talking to me, I’ll hear you soon—-“
His door slammed shut, muffling the rest of the words he had to say.
An old maid knocked on the door but received no response. She pressed on the knob and when the door pushed open, she stepped in. She wasn’t supposed to be here without permission but she wanted to get her job done as soon as possible.
While she was cleaning she found a piece of paper with scribbles all over it. So unreadable, just like the paper she had found and disposed of in Lord Rosil’s room. Why were they letting bats get into their room and scribble on their books? There were no bats in the castle besides the one that belonged to the Queen and with everything that had happened recently, Lord Rosil and Doctor Nicholas had taken turns looking after her.
Well, she was certainly going to leave this place spotless so they would know she had done her job.
So she disposed of the worthless piece of paper along with many other pieces of paper that littered the table.
Into the furnace, Delice’s letters went.
Delice and George might just have to live in the walls forever.
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