the way your innocence tastes

[Talitha de le Poer]

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Everything had blurred together in the moment that Rachias ran forward. Talitha's hand, slender and ghostly, lifted pathetically toward her aunt as she stumbled in the direction of the mourning woman, but she was pulled back by the motion of her father. The young hybrid had to stop and consider disobeying to comfort her half aunt, but at the same time, she knew this was all her fault. If she hadn't gone to Dahlia de Mai, maybe Andrezej would never have stumbled across her. Maybe he would never have committed the crimes he had. Maybe he never would have had to die.

And while she felt nothing for the dead man on the sands, she certainly did for the grieving of Rachias.

Still, she stood numbly and followed her mother away from the scene, looking back only to see the others disperse and her father still there, majestic and yet a terribly frightening figure in it all. She would never fear her father, but she would forever remember the blood he had spilled. It had been right, it had been for her, and for them, but it didn't make the crimson any less visible.

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