Chapter 128: You’re not to blame

Ever since she was told about her baby’s condition, she’d simply refused to remain lying uselessly in bed any longer.

It’s been two days since she woke up, and Malachi hadn’t come to see her again. Now that she knew his blood was her baby’s cure, she was willing to do anything to get it.

There was only a little bit of problem.

One — she was supposed to lie low so no one would know she’s alive.

Two — Malachi has to give his blood to her willingly for it to work.

And no matter how many times Anne has told her to relax, she could not bring herself to do it. She had kept shifting restlessly on the bed, wishing her legs would miraculously heal and she would be able to move again.

And last night, her stubbornness had paid off.

Anne had left the room briefly and had returned with...a gift she said had been dropped off by Cassian. It was a strange contraption of polished wood and iron, built low to the ground with four broad wooden wheels and a padded seat framed by a high back and curved armrests. Beneath one armrest was a short iron lever connected to the rear wheels by a series of tiny gears and rods. Pushing the lever forward turned the wheels, and pulling it back brought the chair to a halt.

It required very little strength, with just enough movement from her good wrist and two fingers to work the mechanism.

She’d been moving herself around the room the whole day, getting more and more used to it since she would be on this seat for God knows how long!

She noticed there was another smaller lever, but she wasn’t quite sure what it did yet. As long as the first worked perfectly for her, she didn’t have the luxury to be more curious right now.

"You said Alpha Cassian was here a few days ago, right?" Della asked, moving her wheelchair closer to Anne whom was currently preparing another badge of her medicine.

"Yes,"

"I wonder why he isn’t back," Della sighed. She didn’t remember much of what happened after she’d been beaten mercilessly, but she didn’t recall hearing his voice somewhere in the background and someone lifting her off the ground.

She was sure it was him, and she wanted to thank her. For helping her, and for also giving her this awesome wheelchair. She’s never seen anything like it before!

Della then turned to Anne, who was focused on her work. While Della had been rolling around all day, asking questions and continuously losing her mind over all this, Anne had only nodded or answered briefly.

If Della didn’t know better, she’d have said Anne was probably more interested in her work and had simply chosen not to speak too much.

"Anne," Della rolled over to her, stopping right next to her, "Is something wrong?"

Anne was grinding down a leaf with a grinding stone into paste. From a distance, Della thought she was focused on her work, but now that she was close enough, she could see the haunted expression on Anne’s face.

She was sweating, and her hands were shaking.

"Anne, are you ok?" She asked, reaching over to touch Anne’s shoulders with her bad hand. It didn’t matter if it hurt. All that mattered was her friend.

"Don’t mind me. I was just... thinking," Anne laughed, but it was probably the most empty sound Della had ever heard. Like someone hitting an empty can.

"Oh," Della blinked, unsure what to say, "Maybe we can...talk about it,"

Anne shook her head and continued to grind, scooping up the paste into a small bowl next to her before she started grinding another badge of leaves, "I don’t know if I can,"

Della’s fingers stilled against the armrest, "Why?"

Anne’s hand tightened around the grinding stone, "Because every time I look at you, I remember that I wasn’t here."

Della frowned.

Anne swallowed hard, staring down at the paste beneath her. "You were alone when they came for you. You were hurt and scared, and I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there."

"Anne—"

"I left you." The words finally came out, barely louder than a whisper.

Della stared at her.

"I thought my mother was in danger. Beatrice told me the council had called her in, and I—" Anne’s voice cracked. "I ran. I didn’t even question it."

Della’s expression softened.

"By the time I realised she’d lied to me, you’d already been attacked." Her eyes glistened, but she blinked furiously and returned to grinding the leaves, "So don’t ask me what’s wrong," she muttered. "Because I don’t know how to look at you without feeling like I failed you."

Della’s heart clenched.

So that was what happened.

Beatrice was the reason why Anne had left that day.

That she-devil has manipulated and fed her lies.

"You know, that you’re like one of the best things that has ever happened to me, right?" Della whispered too, not surprised to find her voice also breaking.

Anne paused and turned to stare at Della.

"And no, Anne, you could never fail me. You have never failed me. Even if you’d left of your own accord, I would never think you failed me,"

Anne’s eyes watered.

"You’ve done so much for me. Like so, so much. Even if you stabbed me in the back today, I could never get mad at you, or feel betrayed by you. Not after you’ve risked everything for me — no, I’d be the actual villain if I ever blamed you for anything,"

Anne let out a shaky breath.

"I’m just so glad that you’re unhurt. Because no amount of trampling would ever amount to what I would feel if I found out that something bad actually happened to you. So this," Della gestured down at all of her body, "This is very ok with me. I’m fine with all this pain. As long as you’re ok,"

Anne stared at her for several seconds, her lips trembling, "You’re making it impossible for me to feel guilty properly."

A tiny, broken laugh escaped Della, and Anne immediately reached for her hand, carefully avoiding the bandages around her fingers.

"I should’ve protected you," Anne murmured.

"You can start by helping me get out of this ridiculous chair without falling flat on my face."

Anne actually laughed this time, though tears slipped down her cheeks.

"You think my chair is ridiculous?!" A voice asked from the door.