Guilt twisted in my gut. “It just came out,” I said weakly. “We were talking about the brooch and the new stone and?—”
She covered her mouth with her hand, shoulders shaking.
“Z…” I stood and walked over to her, putting my hand on her shoulder.
She flinched away as if my touch burned.
“Don’t,” she said, voice raw. “Just…don’t.”
The ache in my chest sharpened into anger.
“I’m allowed to have my own relationships,” I said. “My own support system. It doesn’t have to be you and only you.”
“That’s not what this is about,” she said, chin coming up. Her cheeks were wet. “You can have as many friends as you like. Hell, I’m glad you do. But you shut me out of two of the biggest things that have ever happened to you. One, the man you’re falling in love with. Two, the power that could make or break you. And you only told me because you got cornered in my kitchen.”
“I was going to tell you,” I repeated, the words feeling feeble even to my own ears.
“When?” she demanded. “After you rewove half the village? After Torin’s spell backfires in some horrific way?”
“That’s not how any of this works,” I snapped. “You’re catastrophizing.”
“And you’re minimizing,” she shot back. “As usual.”
I stopped, caught, fury working its way through me. “You know what? I didn’t come here to be told, again, that I’m the problem in every scenario. That if something goes wrong, it’s because I leapt without thinking. I know that’s how you see me. The common denominator. The screwup. The one you have to rescue.”
“That’s not?—”
“It is,” I insisted, tears spilling over now. “You might wrap it in concern but underneath, there’s always this…this tone. Like you’re just waiting for me to botch it again so you get to be the sensible one.”
“Someone has to be,” she said quietly. “It was never Mum. I’ve always had to be. Not being able to see doesn’t lend itself toward a lot of frivolity.”
The silence that followed was thick and painful.
Mitch whined again, shifting between us, tail drooping as if he’d absorb the tension if he could.
“Maybe,” I said, my voice shaking, “I don’t want to be the one you have to manage anymore. Maybe I want to figure out who I am without your commentary.”
Her chin lifted, the muscle in her jaw ticking. “And maybe I’m tired of feeling like the only thing standing between you and your next disaster.”
We stared at each other—me seeing my sister, rigid and wounded, her eyes shining with tears, her seeing me in whatever way she saw auras and energy and only a big sister could.
“I thought you’d be happy for me,” I whispered. “About the chartweaving. About Torin. About…anything.”
“I’m worried for you,” she shot back. “There’s a difference.”
“I think I should go,” I said, heart pounding.
“Maybe you should,” she replied, voice like ice.
The words slashed across my chest.
I grabbed my bag and coat with shaking hands. Mitch moved toward me, uncertain, and I bent to press a kiss to the top of his head.
“Love you, Mitch,” I whispered.
His tail thumped weakly.
“Liora,” Zara said.