Monstrous by MarcyKate Connolly Page B

hoping to catch you before you went to the tower.” He pries me off his neck and holds me at arm’s length. My tears blur his form into silver streaks. “I am afraid the girl did not make it.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    He leads me into the cottage and sits me by the fire. “Kymera, the wizard is very powerful. This girl was already so far gone, had already suffered so much at his hands. She did not survive the night.”
    My entire body goes numb with the chill that creeps over me. “She is dead?” I whisper.
    He nods, scratching Pippa’s head.
    â€œHow?” I remember worrying over Ren, how pale and lifeless he was. “Did my sting kill her? Was it me?”
    In the moment he hesitates before answering, I hear the truth he does not say. It was me. It was my fault. I killed her. Horror grips me in its cold, stinging embrace. I may be sitting by the fire, but even that blaze cannot warm me.
    â€œNo, of course not. It was the wizard. The wasting disease he cursed her with had wreaked havoc on her body. She would not have lasted much longer anyway.”
    But I sped up the process. He will never admit that. Father does not wish me to be troubled by unhappy thoughts. But it is true.
    My insides feel as though they’ve been hollowed out. That girl is gone because of me. She’ll never see my roses or taste the freedom of Belladoma.
    â€œWhere is she now? May I say good-bye to her?”
    Father startles. “Oh, Kym. I am sorry. Darrell already took her away. She will be buried in Belladoma, far from the wizard’s reach. He will not be able to use her ever again.”
    â€œShe is already gone? Why would he take just one girl?”
    Father grimaces as though he ate a rotten egg for breakfast. “Most humans do not like to travel with the dead. It makes them uncomfortable.”
    I stare at my hands, then glare at my tail. Both refuse to stop shaking.
    â€œShould I only take the ones who are less sick, Father? So they do not die?” Another tear rolls down my face. I do not think I can stand it if it happens again.
    â€œThat might be for the best. Just to be safe.” He pats my head and hands me a bowl of porridge. “Eat. You need your strength for tonight.”
    I pick at the porridge. I am not hungry in the least. All I can think of is that poor, small girl and her pale, yellow face. And Ren. I left him alone. I pray he is all right.
    I have to wonder—if my sting affected that girl so adversely, could it hurt him, too? Or any of the other girls?
    Injuring them is the last thing I want to do. Nor would Father. I watch him putter around the hearth. He soonsettles down with a book. Yes, Father would have taken precautions. My sting cannot truly injure; it only causes a deep sleep to fall over them. This unfortunate girl was an exception.
    Still, worry for Ren pricks at my heart.
    By the time I force down the gruel, I have made up my mind. I must make sure Ren is safe. I will seek him out tonight. I will talk to him. I will know him, like I never got to know that girl.
    After lunch, Father left me by the fire reading my books to go to a market in a village beyond the forest and river. It is far enough away that he will not be back until I have left for Bryre and my nightly rescue.
    Which means the afternoon is entirely mine.
    I start out pruning my roses, trying to focus on the blossoms. But the lovely colors and sweet scent do not soothe me as they usually do. My mind feels scattered, unable to focus. The back of my neck tingles, and suddenly my vision is no longer my own.
    Rose petals, my favorite blush ones, fall to a white marble floor. A shrill sound pierces the air and lingers like smoke. A woman slumps amid the petals but I cannot see her face. Just her golden hair and fine blue silk dress.
    It is the woman whose image my mind conjured the first time I considered the word mother .
    I want to reach out, to turn her and see her face, but