The Wind

Quinn is watching Marcus and Hati leave Niall's villa

The wind is cold and it’s making me shiver.

And that, in turn, makes me grimace.

There was a time when cold was my second nature, when it didn’t gnaw at my bones and pierce my flesh. Now, however, when my body is frail and dying, it bites me harder.

I wonder sometimes. 

If it was all worth it.

Of course it was.

It would’ve been easier to just lie down and die. Wait for to be devoured like–

Movement catches my eye. 

You. The weight on my chest feels lighter when I see you. You shine bright in the dim light and I almost run up to you, ask for your forgiveness, declare my love, whatever it takes for you to look at me like you looked at–

But then, something else makes me halt.

• if marcus stayed in the baths

You’re with him. You look at him in annoyance but there’s almost a layer of playfulness in your tone.

“Were you waiting for me?” you ask him. Your hair is still wet and seeing it forms a knot into my stomach. You could catch a cold and die. Don’t you know that?

He says something meaningless and you stifle laughter. You playfully kick his ankle and he laughs and takes a few running steps toward the wagon. Is it still all an act?

I don’t need to take a peek into your mind to know. Of course it’s an act.

I told you to do that.

I told you you should get closer to them, even if it’s him. 

I told you it’s still too early to kill him, it would raise too much suspicion. There are bigger targets than him.

It’s all part of the plan, I remind myself. And you’re playing your part well.

However, there’s something gnawing at me, something other than the cold. Something inside me, like black ooze, spreading in my stomach, spreading, tainting everything.

It flares up in anger when he looks at you with a smile that I should punch out of him.

How I wish I could.

Not yet.

I will kill him later. First, I will make him wish he was never born.

No, not me. 

We.

We will make sure that he suffers.

The thought makes me smile. I’m so proud of you.

• if marcus left the baths

He made you cry. It’s all too clear from the darkness of your thoughts, the weight of your step.

He left before you. His thoughts were a mess of things, egoistical and full of self-pity, unimportant.

If I’d realized that he…

Violent thoughts run through my mind and they make me smile. I can’t kill him yet but I will remember this. Add it to the list of things that sad excuse of a man has done in this lifetime.

I will hurt him for you. And I will enjoy every moment of it.

Just as I’m about to walk up to you, to comfort you like the friend that I am, the big oaf follows.

Disgust flares up. Annoyance, and something else I can’t quite name. Something that ignites when he’s looking at you. Like I should be there with you.

But no. Not yet.

You know this. I should remind myself of it, too.

He hurries toward the wagon to open the door for you, stumbling on the way.

Weak, pathetic thing. 

I need to remind myself that even he can be important. Even he can fulfill the role of the ally. Even he can prove himself useful to you, to us.

You’re the one who understands this, sees through his worthlessness.

And I’m so proud of you.

We can do this.