Chapter 67: Guttural
"I guess I already knew that," Medora said, tapping her chin. "I just didn’t want to admit it. Or maybe... I just didn’t have a reason to dwell on it."
Daylan gave her a confused look, his voice laced with concern. "How do you do it? When your father died, you still held yourself together. Even when you cried on my shoulder sometimes, you never showed any anger. Not once."
Medora wore a wide smile as she stared into Daylan’s confused eyes. "I’m not good at those kinds of feelings. That’s why I have you—to feel my anger for me. And I’ll feel yours too, whenever it’s too much to carry or too messy to make sense of."
Daylan shook his head, clearly disapproving. "You’ve said that a million times. It’s practically the only answer I ever get when I ask about this."
He let out a breath. "Be honest with me—are you bottling everything up because you think I won’t understand?"
Medora walked up to Daylan, her expression soft and reassuring. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "The last person I’d ever worry about not understanding me... is you."
She let out a quiet sigh. "The truth is, I don’t really understand it myself. I’ve never felt the urge for vengeance. Maybe I know it would only break me even more. Or maybe... I just didn’t love my father enough."
The two kept talking, their conversation drifting between lighthearted banter and quiet intensity as Daylan moved around the kitchen, preparing dinner.
It had been nearly a day since Daylan got Medora back from her mother. He filled her in on everything—how he used the bandits as collateral for their escape as the Fools, how he managed to control their minds, and how he had done the same with Lyra.
But he made sure to explain that Lyra’s words were her own; all he did was break down the barriers she’d built to keep her emotions locked away.
However, Medora pointed out something Daylan had overlooked—the Guard and the Chivalry Association were bound to suspect a greater force was backing the Fools.