“Because you knew her sowell,” I add sarcastically. “What part of this makes you think ofher?”
“The lights,” Condorreplies immediately, as if he had the answer standing by on histongue. “I think she was very much like those candles out there.She was the light in our darkness.” Condor paces the length of theroof in irritation.
I had not thought of itlike that. Condor’s perspective on thewake does sound exactly like something Warbler would find romantic.“Well, when you put it that way—”
“You do realize that youweren’t the only one in this House that liked Warbler, right? Youdid not monopolize her time.” Condor’s voice lowers, as if he istrying to hide his raw, emotional state.
My eyes roll as I respond, “Oh really?You knew her well then, hmm? Tell me, what was her favorite flower?Why did she pick the Warbler mask? What was herfavorite—?”
“Stop.” Condor presses ahand to my lips, bumping the edges of my mask until I am afraid itwill fall off my face. “I will not sit here and be interrogated byyou, not when you are part of the reason she is gone.”
“What’s that supposed tomean?” I roar, hands clenching into fists as I prepare to fight ordie.
“You babied her, Mynah.You treated her like she was a child. You kept her soft and needy.She took up with Creeper just to feel like she was doing somethingworthwhile in the House. She thought she was being useful, which isall she really wanted. If you wouldn’t have made her feel helpless,maybe she’d still be here.”
Condor’s words sting farworse than a punch to the gut ever could. My lungs feel like alltheir air has just been expelled, but I am unable to draw anotherbreath. I slide down to my knees, my mouth opening and shutting asI acknowledge the truth of his argument. Idid baby her. Didn’t Bittern say that Warbler admitted to thinkingof me as a mother? Did I cause her to turn to Creeper? Had I not been asking myself thesequestions only moments before the Wake began? Did I smotherher?
Seeing that he has won, Condor leansheavily against the railing that keeps us safely ensconced on theroof. “Her favorite flower was a red rose. She liked it because ofits rich scent. I found it ironic because her favorite color wasyellow, and there is a yellow rose. She said that she’d never seena yellow rose that smelled as sweet as a red one. As to why shechose to be called Warbler, there is a completely yellow bird inthat species. She also loved to sing like the birds do, and sheliked the wordplay of the name.”
“When did she confide inyou?” I wonder, amazed that such a harsh man would ever take thetime to find out such details about such a gentle soul.
“When I would come in latefrom the forest, she would stay up too. Warbler wanted to make surethan I didn’t go hungry. She and I grew close.” Turning back to me,observing my seated, defeated attitude, he continues. “She lovedyou dearly. What I said about you sending her to Creeper…that wasout of line.”
“Maybe it was, maybe itwasn’t.” I can hear my tears in the way my voice breaks. “But I amnot responsible for Creeper’s actions. He’s the one who killed her,so do not try to blame me for her death.”
“Mynah—”
“No, Condor!” I risedeterminedly, the fight building inside me like the first springstorms. I am lightning and thunder, a tornado of emotion. Nothingwill stand in my way. “You don’t get the right to insult me oneminute, apologize the next, and expect me to take it lyingdown.”
“Why do we always have tofight? Why are we never able to open up and actually talk aboutmeaningful things? We are always on the opposite sides of everyissue,” Condor whispers, the sound of sorrow in his voice. “Why canwe never see eye to eye?”
My fist connects with his mask in aresounding crack. Startled, Condor backs away from my side, onehand raising to check if his disguise is now broken. “You want toknow why we must fight all the time? Because I hate you! Youtortured Hawk! You let Creeper into the House! How could I evertrust you with anything personal, hmm? You mean nothing but miseryto me.”
Condor’s hand snakes around my throatso fast that I do not see it coming. He shoves me hard against therailing, pushing me until my upper body dangles precariously on theedge. If he lets go, I will definitely plummet to my death. “Iwish…I wish you would open your eyes! For once in our patheticlives, I wish you would see the truth.”
“What is that supposed tomean?” I growl as I grapple with Condor’s hand, struggling to finda way to get free.
Condor answers, but he does notclarify his previous words for me. “Tonight was supposed to beabout Warbler. We both have forgotten that. We must return to thewake ceremony.” Condor hauls me away from the roof’s edge, urgingme toward the stairs once more. “Go back and join the others andtell Wren that I will return in about ten minutes.”
My fingers quiver as I reach theladder. I praise whatever gods might be listening that I am stillalive on this rooftop and not splattered on solid earth.
“One more thing, Mynah. Ifyou continue to push me aside and if you keep hiding informationfrom me, I will find other ways of getting it. You have beenwarned.”
I do not breathe anotherfull breath until the wake ceremony is completed. My mind is aflurry of questions, none of them relating to Warbler when I know Ishould be remembering her. What did Condormean when he said he wished I would open my eyes and see thetruth? And whatabout how he would use other ways of getting information fromme—what does he want? Condor is so very changeable that I wonder if I even reallyknow him at all.
***
Two days after the wake,the trembling, weeping remorse hidden in my bones rears its uglyhead once more. I do not know how long
