Boundary Read Online Free Page B

such longing in them that I blush.
    He releases my hand. As the Attendant pulls open the weighty wooden door, Jasper turns back and waves. I raise my hand in farewell. A mixture of sadness and guilt rises within me, and I lower my eyes.
    The stairs feel as though they’ve multiplied since I walked up them this morning after the Basilika services. As I drag my feet up step by step, I tell myself that I’m simply tired from the early rising and the long day. That it isn’t the heaviness of my secret burden weighing me down. That I can handle it.
    I reach the last stair and hear my father mutter, “It was hard, Margret, seeing her in the Hall.”
    “I’m sure it was, Jon,” my mother answers, her voice a Lady-whisper. “To see your daughter among all those male faces.” I can almost picture her leaning across the wide Feasting table to touch my father’s hand in a gentle show of reassurance and solidarity. My mother’s defining feature is her fierce, unwavering loyalty to our family. Her vision of our family, that is. But she has a genuine and Lady-like love of my father, I think. That is her saving grace.
    “That is not the reason, Margret.”
    “No?”
    “No.” He makes a sound sort of like choking. “I keptlooking at Eva’s face and seeing Eamon there instead. I know he’s gone, but I’ve imagined his face in the Hall for so many years—”
    His voice breaks off, and I freeze. He’s crying. I’ve only ever heard my father cry once before, the day the Ring-Guards brought my brother’s body home.
    Katja sees me frozen on the top stair. She rushes to my side. “Come—” She pauses, still unsure what to call me, but wanting to please. “Eva, you are exhausted. Let me draw a bath for you.”
    “No, Katja. I’ll be fine.” I wave off her efforts and enter my bedroom alone. After shutting the door behind me, I lean against it and slide down to sit my haunches, sobbing.
    I’m not the only one playacting. My poor father—seemingly the essence of excitement and support today—is suffering along with me. The loss of Eamon haunts us all. I try to calm down, to steady my breathing. I must put aside my own worries about straddling two worlds—Maiden and Testor, Betrothed and Archon, and most of all … whatever the Aerie thinks I am and whatever I am truly to become. This daily role-shifting must become instinctive and hidden.
    I remind myself that in the end, there is only one purpose above all: to uncover the truth of Eamon’s death. Perhaps the truth about New North is another knot that may be untangled at the same time. But for now, I must compartmentalize.
    It’s not going to be as simple as I’d hoped to be that quiet little mouse.

VII .
Junius 24
Year 242, A.H .
    The tears will not stop. I try to stifle the sobs—I don’t want my poor parents to hear me—but I feel like I can’t breathe unless I let them out. All the grief that I’ve kept trapped inside me since Eamon died pours out in convulsive gasps. For months now, I’ve stuffed my sorrow into the darkest reaches of my spirit, thinking only of winning the Archon Laurels in his name, but finally, I must acknowledge the victory is empty. It will never bring my dead brother back to life.
    As if watching someone else, I sink to my knees. Not in front of the diptych where I used to pray to the Gods, but right in the middle of my bedroom. I’m not sure to whom I’m praying anymore—what Gods exist, if any. But I must try.
    “Whatever you are, whoever you are, please help me,” I beg in a whisper.
    The praying just makes me cry harder. The enormity and futility of what’s ahead threatens to overwhelm me, and my chest heaves. Why did I ever think I could do this? I crumple, my head resting upon my knees. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I guess that no matter how hard I tried to keep quiet, Katja heard my sobs. Or worse, my parents.
    I look up to see near-black eyes staring into mine. It’s Lukas.
    Even enveloped by sadness, I am still