Page 60 of The Merciless Ones

I nod miserably. I already knew that, but my emotions aren’t so easily convinced. It’s like I’ve lost control of them, like I’m in that ocean of grief, just as Britta said. Every time I think I’m fine, another wave comes and sweeps me under.

“The worst thing is the anger,” I confess. “The anger at myself. I didn’t value them when they were alive – especially Father. All that time I hated him, and for what?”

Keita snorts. “For beheading you.”

He lifts my chin so I look up at him. “I know you want to remember him kindly, but you cannot forget that the man abandoned you when you needed him most. He not only left you in that cellar to die; he even killed you once himself.”

Father in the cellar, that sword in hand.

“A few words of apology cannot erase all that.”

I shrug. “I’m immortal. What’s a few beheadings between family?”

Keita doesn’t laugh at my flippant joke. His eyes remain as serious as ever. “Your father was many things, Deka. Loving and supportive, yes. But he was also cold and cruel. Both parts of him can be true. As much as you want to remember the good, I also want you to remember the bad. He hurt you. Would have continued hurting you if you’d let him.”

“I know that, but then…what do I do with all this anger?” I clench my jaw as another tear slides down my cheek.

Ever since I was imprisoned in that cellar, it’s been there, simmering under the surface, but it’s changed since the events of last night. Turned cold. Sharp. Before yesterday, it was the fuel I used to survive, to keep going. Now, it feels like a dagger, ready to slice me into ribbons. To make me into something cruel and terrifying if I let it.

“How do I make it go away?” I whisper. “I’m so angry right now. I’m so angry at him. Angry at what he did to me.”

Keita sighs. “Deka… When my parents died, I was in a state for months. Years. I was angry – all the time I was angry. It was like this…weight, squatting inside my chest. Forcing me to fight harder, kill more brutally. Shed more blood. All those years I spent, killing deathshrieks, and you know what happened?”

I look up at him. “What?”

“I became the villain.”

“Keita, no, you’re not—”

“Aren’t I?” Keita sits up. “You know how all the deathshrieks stay clear of me. How they always watch me as if I’m not to be trusted with my own sword. And I don’t blame them. I’ve tried so hard, but I know that when they look at me, all they see is the blood staining my hands. The blood of their sisters – your sisters.”

“Oh, Keita,” I say, embracing him tighter. “I understand. I know what it feels like, having to prove yourself.”

He pulls back, shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that, commiserate with me. You don’t have to twist yourself into knots to make me feel better.”

“Then what can I—”

“You can deal with your own problems, your own anger.” He scrunches his nose like he’s gathering his thoughts, then continues. “It’s a useful emotion, anger. That’s what our commanders always used to tell us. Anger alerts you that things need to change. The problem is, if you remain in that state, it devours you from the inside. It confuses your mind and turns you into an instrument for those who would do evil.

“You have to let it out some way. Have to have a proper release for your pain.”

I just stare at him. We’re only a year apart, but sometimes, it feels more like a century. Keita is so much more mature – more centred, more deliberate. He’s had his own tragedies too – his entire family massacred, his years as a deathshriek hunter – but he somehow manages to maintain his quiet, unruffled nature.

Or perhaps, it’s just easier for me to think that.

I pull away, remembering now all the times I’ve seen him exhausted – defeated. All the times I’ve noticed deathshrieks giving him a wide berth but never pursued it further. Just because Keita is quiet and thoughtful doesn’t mean he’s not feeling any pain. And I need to be more mindful of that when I speak with him.

“Keita…yesterday, when I left you under that basket to go rescue Father, I—”

He shakes his head, those golden eyes almost seeming to glow in the afternoon gloom. “There’ll be time to discuss that,” he says. “And make no mistake, we will discuss that, because you can’t shut me out like that, especially in the situation we were. But not now, when you’re grieving. You need to mourn your parents, Deka. You need to mourn your past life. The others, we talked about it at breakfast today. How can we release your pain?”

I think about it. “When we thought Katya had died, we held a funeral,” I say.

Keita nods, thinking about it. “Then we will hold a funeral for your father.”

“And Elfriede.” We can’t forget about her. Even after what she became.

Keita nods again, sighs. “And for Elfriede.”