Coloring (6)
Coloring (6)
The letter was in her right hand.
The one that would formally tell me I was being expelled from the family.
She'd brought it here to deliver the warning in person.
She sat back in her chair, posture perfectly composed.
Which of us was the lunatic, I couldn't quite tell.
My sister, for this.
Or me, for just sitting here taking it.
I was the sane one, at least. Which meant the woman in front of me had to be the crazy one.
I didn't answer. I stood up.
No point sitting face-to-face with a madwoman.
Levina watched me.
Her gaze held a question.
Quiet, but unmistakable.
Instead of answering, I looked down at the shards scattered across the floor.
The remains of the bottle Estelle had hurled.
She'd thrown it at the wall, but the fragments had sprayed everywhere.
Glass crunched underfoot.
I crouched down.
Barehanded, I started with the largest pieces.
The cold bite of it met my fingertips.
"Ravin."
Levina's voice. Low and even, the way it always was.
"Your expulsion from the family is already decided.
If there's anything you can tell me that might warrant some leniency, I'm willing to hear it."
I didn't reply.
The sharp edges pressed into my palm.
Cold.
Not unpleasant, though.
A faint scraping sound as the shards settled in my grip.
Like fitting puzzle pieces together, I picked them up one by one.
They'd never make a bottle again.
"Are you listening to me?"
"I'm listening."
Short answer. I reached for the next piece.
This one was sharp.
A sting at my fingertip.
The tiniest cut, thin as a thread.
No blood.
Can't use magic, didn't think to grab a broom. Bare hands were the only option.
Unless I wanted to roll around in glass dust while I slept.
Inhaling glass powder in my sleep sounded like a fairly gruesome way to go.
"As of today, you're no longer a member of this family."
Levina said it flatly, like she was commenting on the weather.
"This will likely be the last letter Father ever sends you."
Flatter than the weather, even.
She gave the envelope in her hand a light shake. Paper rustled.
The original Ravin wouldn't have been particularly moved anyway.
It was probably the first letter he'd ever received.
"You can never use the name Edelgard again.
Officially, you are no longer my brother."
My hands paused.
A fair number of shards had accumulated in my palm.
I looked down at them in silence.
Then I reached for the rest.
"It's not my whole life."
"What?"
A crack in her voice, the first one.
I shrugged. Like it wasn't important.
It wasn't.
"That ridiculous surname of yours.
It's not my whole life."
Get kicked out of the family, have the engagement broken off—what did it matter, as long as I could get back?
Nothing meaningful seemed to change whether I lived or died.
I'd twisted myself inside out, clung to life by my fingernails, and all that came of it was that my half-sister, who'd despised me her entire life, had turned marginally less cruel.
I wasn't about to grovel and die again over something that small.
I swept up the fine glass dust mixed with the grit on the floor.
The rasping sensation was unpleasant.
The floor was cold, the dust dry and crumbling.
How long since anyone had cleaned this room?
I couldn't remember.
Time ran strangely here.
Die a couple of times and come back, anyone would be the same.
"Your noble title. The family's prestige. Everything you've enjoyed until now—gone.
It's no different from being thrown into the street.
And you're telling me that isn't everything?"
Levina's voice had risen slightly.
She couldn't comprehend it.
Of course she couldn't.
She'd had everything.
The family name, people's respect, all that brilliant talent.
To the original Ravin, it probably was everything.
"Everything I've enjoyed until now."
I murmured the words.
They echoed in my ears.
Everything I'd enjoyed.
I hadn't personally enjoyed much of anything.
Even digging through Ravin's memories, it was less enjoyment and more a lifetime of being crushed down, knocked around.
"Not a lot of good memories.
If I'd been born an ordinary commoner, maybe I'd have been happier."
"You—"
"I know. I know how this sounds.
But I've lost too much. It's all my fault anyway. That's the story, right?"
A soft inhale, a short exhale, then another breath drawn in.
Levina's mouth opened, then closed.
Silence seeped back into the room.
Heavy. Sinking.
"She went on at me about basic courtesy, and then she ran off without cleaning up."
I didn't want to drag out this miserable conversation any longer, so I grumbled about Estelle instead.
Levina said nothing for a while.
She just watched me silently clearing the floor.
Her gaze drove into my back like a nail.
It stung.
The only sounds in the room were the whisper of my knees scraping the floor and the faint clink of glass shards knocking together.
Stillness.
"Your hand."
Levina spoke.
Her voice had dropped back to its usual temperature.
Colder, even.
"You're bleeding."
I glanced down at my hand.
Calling it bleeding was generous.
A few smears on my fingertips and across my palm.
So slight you wouldn't notice unless you looked hard.
Pinpricks.
I barely felt any pain.
Just a faint stickiness, distinct against my skin.
"Then you can clean it up.
Think of it as a final courtesy for the man you're throwing out."
A few cuts didn't matter.
I'd go find Estelle tomorrow and she'd patch me up.
She wouldn't turn away a bleeding man who'd come all the way to the church.
Probably.
She was the Saintess, after all.
Whatever else she was.
I said it like it was nothing. Reached for the floor again.
Plenty of small fragments still left.
That was when Levina rose from her chair.
"Stop."
She walked over and stood in front of me.
Her shadow fell across me.
I looked up at her. The backlight swallowed her face.
"Why?"
"It's filthy."
She said it plainly. Something besides contempt colored her voice.
I couldn't name it.
I got to my feet. Dumped the shards in my hand into the nearby waste bin.
"Is that all you came to say?"
I phrased it like I'd appreciate it if she left soon. Levina answered.
"Because of the broken engagement, you'll need to visit the manor soon regardless."
"Where."
"The main house."
She said it like it was obvious.
"Great. You were the one who hated having Serepina next to me, said it was pitiful."
I let it come out snide. Her brow tightened.
"I've had all the belongings from your room moved.
To a small annex behind the manor."
"How thoughtful."
"Minimum courtesy.
If anything is missing, inform the steward."
She kept going. As if she were reading off a checklist of tasks to be processed.
She'd always been that way.
In her mind, she was simply stating facts, emotion excluded.
The day my mother died, when she'd said with something like relief that the main house would no longer have to host a whore—she'd probably considered that a simple fact too.
I didn't take the envelope she held out.
She didn't offer it again.
It ended up on the table.
"And."
Levina stopped.
She glanced around the room like someone who didn't know where to rest her eyes.
The broken glass.
The bloodstains on the floor.
The stale air, apple and cigarette smoke tangled together.
Then she looked at me again.
"And..."
Her lips parted, but nothing came.
They just moved soundlessly.
"Ah. Right. Father will be stepping down soon. I'll become Family Head.
You grew up in House Edelgard, so once you graduate—you won't be able to stay in the main house, but I'll arrange for you to use the annex."
Her voice carried a faint tremor.
Levina looked uncharacteristically unsettled, her fingers fidgeting at her collar as she spoke.
"The heating won't be good. It's been empty a long time. If you need anything..."
"It's fine."
Levina's mouth closed.
"The time we've spent together hasn't exactly been pleasant."
I jerked my chin toward the door.
Levina said nothing.
She just looked at me.
Silent, and faintly displeased, the way she'd always been.
A stretch of quiet.
She turned.
Walked to the door.
Creak. Thud.
The sound of the door closing rang too loud.
Stillness settled back into the room.
I sat there blankly for a long while, eyes moving between the envelope Levina had left behind and the glass shards I still hadn't finished clearing.
Out of habit, I reached for a cigarette, confirmed the pack was empty, and put it away.
Then I looked at my palm—the one Levina had made such a fuss over, claiming it was bleeding.
Scratched, maybe. But not a single drop of blood had surfaced.
* * *
The next day.
I went to the small church by the academy's back gate.
Morning sunlight fell through the stained glass, scattering color across the floor.
The air had the stale weight of old dust.
Estelle was waiting.
Sprawled across the longest pew like it was her bed.
Her priestess robes were even more rumpled than yesterday.
"Did you eat dinner?"
She asked with a smile.
The irritable edge from yesterday was completely gone.
She almost looked like a different person.
"I didn't."
"Knew it."
She got up and walked over to me.
Produced an apple and began wiping it on the sleeve of her robes.
"Here."
I took it before I'd decided to.
"From now on, eat dinner with me."
Instead of answering, I bit into the apple and nodded.
I had the distinct feeling I was being reeled in.