Chapter Forty-One

Entry:

I laughed today. 

How disgusting of me! I was alone reading a book when I burst out laughing, really laughing out loud! Am I allowed to get better? To smile when they cannot?

Or must I smile and laugh, for them? For everything they stood for, do I have a responsibility to continue living? 

Phoenix.

--

Talon didn't mean to eavesdrop. He was in the library when he saw an opportunity for coincidence. Perhaps he wasn't wholly innocent. When Talon heard the door to the underground library creak open and close, he couldn't help but pause his work and spy. Now he stood behind the bookshelves and out of sight. He wasn't eavesdropping; just being in the right spot at the right time. 

Talon smiled- it Phoenix and Roman standing by her chair, whispering. Regardless of their hushed tone, the dead silence of night echoed the old man's words clearly, "It's called depersonalization. Back before the Burning, mental disorders were becoming a common topic and people were learning more about the once taboo subject. There is nothing wrong with you. You are not a broken machine—just a person with unmet needs. It'll get better."

Phoenix's voice shook, "Roman, do you know the ancient story of Pandora's Box? The old legend humans used to worship?"

"I am aware, darling. Out of curiosity, Pandora opens a forbidden box and releases all sorts of evil. Everything bad is unleashed into the world, everything bad and then hope. Hope was the only good that was sent to battle all the evils."

"What happens if you open the box but hope's not inside?"

A heavy silence weighed. 

"Why am I here, Roman?" 

No response.

Her voice remained low and controlled. Wrong, not controlled. Hollow, void of all emotion. Talon's heart sank to his stomach. 

"Why am I here?" Phoenix hissed.

"Do you need a reason?" Roman said. "The fact is that you are, and that at any moment you won't be, darling. You might as well complete what you started."

A suffocating, slithering, intoxicating silence that lasted a millennium. Phoenix bowed her head in a submission after some time.

"You're a good girl, darling," Roman assured, reaching out to pat her head.

She seemed to lean into it for a moment, before taking a step back to distance herself. 

"Now," the old man's eyes slid in Talon's direction, "I ought to be going before Talon comes out from that bookshelf and confronts us."

What? 

Talon shyly stepped out from behind the books, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. The old man's gnarled beard dipped down toward Talon in acknowledgment. Without another word, Roman picked up his feet and walked back down to his lair of secrets and sorrows. Phoenix lowered herself into her chair with little grace.

"Do you always talk that much with him?" Talon asked, sitting himself on the floor by her feet. "And what did he mean by 'finish what you started?'" 

No response. 

Talon frowned. Held in the urge to cry. 

But then, Phoenix rose from her chair and plopped herself down beside him, on the ground. They didn't touch, but the mere thought of her acknowledging Talon made him happy. Progress. This was progress, however slow. 

The two sat in the poorly lit room, only the howling wind outside and rattling windows made any noise. Talon wanted to snatch a blanket but was afraid that if he did so, she'd leave disappear. The night carried on and the heat left, leaving the two shivering and chattering their teeth louder than the rain pelting the castle's exterior. 

Even still, neither moved.

Phoenix took out her journal and wrote, angling the book so Talon couldn't see its contents. At least she was talking to someone- or something. Her fingers were pink, nails blue.

"I'm getting a blanket for us," Talon announced, unable to bear it anymore.

But, as he feared, once he got up to retrieve one and returned, Phoenix was no longer waiting for him.

#

"It's too simple!" 

"That's why it'll work!"

Talon tapped his fingers next to his father as two councilmen fought. Today a plan for getting the crown back had to be finalized, but no one could agree. 

"The soldiers reported that the warehouse was supposedly empty, but it has guards posted all day and night! It should be a stealth mission!"

"They also reported the guards were talking about how the crown would be moved to a final location soon. We don't have the time to plan a stealth mission!"

"They beat us once! We must have a more complex plan-"

"Enough!" King Malik interrupted. 

Everyone turned to him. 

"We have the element of surprise, more men, guns, and experienced leaders. We should just rush in and retrieve the crown before it leaves," the King ruled. 

"You make a very good point, Your Majesty, but I fear that the simplicity of merely walking in and demanding the crown may backfire," a squad leader debated.

"We have the force and there's no time to dally, we have been made fools for long enough! We should just storm the place," another demanded.

Talon was bored. This was so useless. The only thing he cared about was how late this meeting was running and how badly he needed to see Phoenix.   

"I appreciate your remarks," the King grunted, "but we will be doing a frontal assault. Get the finalized plans to me by tomorrow morning. We have other matters to attend to."

Straightening out his velvet suit, invisible dust rolling off his square shoulders, the King stood and nodded to his councilmen. Talon followed his father out of the meeting room, stifling a yawn.

"We have nothing else for tonight," Talon remarked once they were in the empty halls. 

His father turned and placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. Talon instinctively leaned into the touch, the weight an unfamiliar comfort. 

"Yes, but that was awful," the King said. 

The two smiled in agreement. It wasn't often that King Malik played his fatherly role, but when he did, Talon was always left smiling afterward. 

"Where are you going now?" the King asked.

"To the library."

"What business do you have there?"

"No business. I'm meeting a friend."

The King smirked. "Enjoy yourself."

He released Talon's shoulder and disappeared down into the depths of the castle, his shoes echoing away into the distance. 

When was the last time Talon had gotten a full night's sleep? It didn't matter, he needed to see Phoenix. Even as his aching feet barked in protest, Talon dragged himself to find her. 

Each night was starting to feel the same, bleeding into each other, creating a hopeless wound until nothing but memory laid raw. Talon could feel the exhaustion and stress cracking his bones, but when it came to Phoenix, he never seemed to think rationally.

The library was quiet when Talon entered. The curtains were drawn and moonlight streamed in. But there, Phoenix sat in her usual chair, legs bouncing, chewing her lip raw-

Something was wrong.

"Bird?" Talon frowned, unsure if the lights were playing tricks or if there were tears welling in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

He reached out his hand and placed it on her shoulder in comfort. Talon's hand jumped in rhythm with her tapping feet, her whole body humming. 

"I have some good news. We're trying to send men to the warehouse by the end of next week to see them. I'll keep my promise to bring their leader alive," Talon said, hoping to lighten her spirits.

Then, like a jack out of its box, Phoenix sprang up. She whirled to Talon, whose bewildered gaze stared right back, and looked him dead in the eyes.

"Can I rely on you?" she asked.

"Of course," he stuttered in surprise. "What do you need?"

Phoenix grabbed Talon and pulled him into a hug. Talon's perfectly straight clothes wrinkled under her squeeze, but Talon couldn't be happier. She buried her head into his chest silently. Talon wanted to embrace her back, but didn't want to scare her away, so he settled for stroking her hair, as Roman had. She smelt of coal, of burnt-out candles and used firepits. 

"You'll to be okay," he whispered into the quiet.

"We'll always be okay," she repeated distantly.

Did Talon say the wrong thing again? Regardless, Talon felt a small smile spreading as he felt Phoenix's warmth.

"It's just so hard," her voice broke.

"I know."

"But it's only just started," she spoke softly, this time clearly to herself. 

Phoenix pulled away from Talon and sat back into her chair with a neutral face, as though nothing had happened. Talon wanted to hug her again, feel that warmth and comfort of being needed, but he couldn't push her. 

"What has only begun?" Talon asked.

"Why do I care whether or not you'll forgive me?" she met his eyes. 

What did that mean? 

"What have you done? I'll forgive you if you just tell me," Talon begged. 

Phoenix looked up and put on a smile. A storm finally hit the shore. Phoenix turned and marched toward the wall that led to the old man's lair. Talon trailed close behind. She was obviously not doing fine—she was more spaced out, talkative, clingy, and in motion than before. 

Was this what getting better looked like? 

The two looked at each other as they approached the door. While Talon wanted to follow her into the underground library, Phoenix shook her head no. Before he could protest, she slipped behind the door and was gone for the night, out of reach again.

Talon just needed to wait until they got the crown back. Then he would be less busy, and she could have some closure. Talon could feel it: every day, he was growing more hopeful. 

He feared if anything went wrong again, Phoenix would never recover.