The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 21

CHAPTER NINE

The Weight of Tears

When her family was murdered, Bingmei’s heart had closed like an oyster, and it had remained closed ever since. But something about the mournful song of the night bird, joined by the chirp of crickets, wrenched it open. Tears welled in her eyes and burned trails down her cheeks.

“You’re crying,” Quion said in something like wonder.

He tried to reach for her, to comfort her, but Bingmei wasn’t ready to be comforted. She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face there, weeping from her innermost depths. It was like an abyss had opened up. Her tears were for her lost family, for her father, who would never see her perform a perfect set of moves, for her mother, whose sweet cinnamon-porridge smell had lulled her to sleep when she was a girl. For her grandfather, whose quonsuun lay in ruins. For Kunmia Suun, whom she felt she’d failed. She even cried for Lieren, who had died during the mission in which they’d acquired the Phoenix Blade. He’d been Marenqo’s friend—a thought that made her cry even harder, for Marenqo was likely dead too. How she missed Marenqo’s teasing, his fondness for tasty food. Would she meet him next in the Grave Kingdom?

She cried for her bond sister Mieshi too, for the friendship they might have shared if she’d trusted the other woman with her feelings. Grief was not just for something lost. It was also for missed opportunities.

The scent of her own sorrow washed over her as she wept. She could also smell Quion’s confusion, his sympathy, his care, and that fishy smell that was uniquely his. Embarrassment roiled inside her. But somehow, it wasn’t so awful having him see her like this. It would have been worse if it were—

Rowen.

This next wave of emotion felt like a knife piercing her heart, and she gasped from the shock of it. There’d always been a connection between them, but she’d shut away her feelings inside that oyster. Now they lay exposed, and she realized how deeply she cared for him. She’d hidden the feelings for fear of rejection, fear of loss, fear of being unworthy. And so she’d pushed away the man who loved her, the man she loved in return.

The pain stabbed her, again and again, especially when she remembered how open he’d been with her. How bravely he’d revealed his heart. He’d felt the connection between them from some past life, and instead of dreading it, he’d sought to deepen it.

Her breath came in little gasps between her tears.

There was room in her heart for him. There was plenty of room. It tormented her that she couldn’t apologize to him. Beg for his forgiveness.

“What have I done, what have I done?” she whispered, groaning. She’d left him to die. For all she knew, he was gone, already banished to the Grave Kingdom like his brother before him.

“What’s wrong, Bingmei?”

Quion’s voice was so plaintive, so worried, she finally lifted her puffy eyes to look at him. “It hurts so much.”

He winced. “The scars?”

“No,” she said, touching his arm. She swallowed, trying to wrestle her emotions and failing. Tears continued to course down her cheeks as she touched her fingers to her thumb and tapped her chest. “In here,” she choked. “It’s what I’m feeling inside. How do people bear it?”

The love she’d suppressed for Rowen was overflowing now. She was struck with the memory of how King Zhumu had suggested a match between Rowen and the gorgeous princess Cuifen. The memory sizzled in her mind, and another pang struck her heart. She finally understood why she’d been so averse to the match.

“I’m such a fool,” she moaned.

“I don’t understand,” Quion said, shaking his head.

“No, you wouldn’t. Don’t feel bad. I smell emotions every day coming from everyone around me. The stink of dishonesty. The lemony smell of greed. Love and hate, despair and hope, they all have different smells . . .” She paused, swallowing, struggling to master her composure. “When I was younger, I hated it. I learned to keep my own feelings inside so I wouldn’t have to smell them too. But there’s something about that night bird’s song. The sound it made just . . .” She sniffled. “It cut me open. And now all my emotions are running loose. Why did it happen? How could the cry of a bird break my heart?”

Quion looked at her, nodding in understanding. “My father liked to play a little flute. Sometimes the notes would take ahold of him. Music makes us feel, Bingmei. When I hear a flute, I think of him. And I still grieve that he’s gone.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “We’re all acquainted with grief, Bingmei. It means we’re still alive.”

She looked at him. “No, it doesn’t, Quion. I’ve been to the Grave Kingdom. They still feel there. Only it’s worse. It’s more desperate. I think our emotions are tied to our two souls. But they are tied to them with knots Echion and Xisi have learned to twist and tangle. They can bring