After Ryan left, silence hung over the room. Searching for the right words to say, Misha stared at the door through which he had left. Ryne dropped back into his seat and picked up his tea again, paying her no mind.
“Um, Uncle Ryne...what are you going to do next?” Misha asked as he happily piled his plate with sweets from the table. “Ryan asked you for help, right? Shouldn’t you go with him?”
Ryne shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do for him right now anyway. But hey, if you’ve got some time, why don’t we talk for a bit?” There was something terrifying in the way he smiled as he said that. Misha found herself flinching back in her seat beside him. “Oh, don’t be so scared. It’s nothing big. I just wanted to ask you something.”
As Misha started to pale, Ryne returned his cup to the table, his smile deepening. “When you discovered the Red Eye plague was back, and also when you realized there was nothing you could do on your own, why didn’t you search for Miranda?”
Misha tilted her head to the side as she tried to see the reasoning behind Ryne’s question.
“Miranda might have known something you didn’t,” he continued. “Maybe you don’t know where she is now, but she told you about her different bases, right? Even if you didn’t know exactly where she was, you could have found a few places that looked suspicious and started giving the sign of the People of the Forest.”
Misha’s expression grew more strained as he continued talking. It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t occurred to her. From the rest of the world’s perspective, the People of the Forest were miracle workers when it came to medicine. Ryne shared incredible knowledge with her whenever he visited, and it was always so different from what she knew of herbs and medicine from her mother. Misha could tell on her own that the People of the Forest had a lot more knowledge like that hidden away. It would have been natural to think they could have a remedy to combat the Red Eye plague.
But she hadn’t tried to seek them out.
“I was told I couldn’t just depend on the People of the Forest...”
Ryne cut down her weak objection. “Your knowledge comes from those same People of the Forest, though.”
Noticing her own hands starting to tremble, Misha struggled to keep stringing words together. “And they rarely help anyone outside their own tribe,” she tried again.
“True enough. But if it was you asking, there’s a much better chance someone would be willing to lend a hand. The People of the Forest are a tight-knit community. They’d put much more weight on the words of one of their own, even someone like you who only has half of our blood, than any king. Didn’t Miranda teach you that?”
“Understand? If you’re in trouble, greet them the same way you greeted me. If they’re one of our people, they’ll definitely help you.”
Ryne’s question brought Miranda’s words back to her. For the first time ever, Misha was afraid of the look in her uncle’s eyes. She was afraid that strong emerald gaze would pierce right through her, and drag everything she kept quiet out into the open.
Yeah, I knew, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut tight. I knew how to ask for help from the People of the Forest, but I still didn’t...because...
Hearing Ryne sigh, Misha snapped her eyes open, only to see his face directly in front of her. His eyes held a mix of compassion and indignation, the reflection of a small girl, pale and trembling, overwhelmed by her own guilt within them. Misha was totally lost for words.
Ryne softly lobbed an accusation at her. “People always thanked you, always praised you, always held you up on a pedestal, but didn’t we always teach you to remember how much you don’t know? I bet all that thanks and all that praise went to your head. You were worried someone would show up who was even more special than you.”
“No!” Misha shouted.
“Then why didn’t you do anything? You should have known pretty quickly that you were out of your depth.”
“That was...because...” Tears started pouring down her face.
Ryne gently wiped them away. “I know, running around the capital searching randomly for People of the Forest probably wouldn’t have accomplished anything, but it was still the best option for you. You should have known it was the best you could have done for all those suffering people.”
Misha bit her lip. She couldn’t think of anything she could say in reply. She was painfully aware of how correct he was. Normally she always knew right away what medicine was needed to treat which disease. It was an instinct, built from the huge wealth of knowledge that had been drilled into her since she was a child. She had never doubted the reliability of that feeling before.
But this time, no matter how hard or how long she puzzled over solutions, no matter how she dug through the mountain of her knowledge, she hadn’t found a single clue. That was obviously because she had no information on the true nature of the Red Eye plague, but this being the first time she’d been in over her head to such a degree, she was as confused as she was afraid.
For better or worse, she’d had no one else to rely on, and everyone around her had lain heavy expectations on her shoulders as one of the People of the Forest. She had been trapped between the building pressure of expectations she couldn’t answer and the pride earned from all she had accomplished so far.
Tears continued to pour, and her lip started to bleed as she bit down in frustration.
Guess I pushed her a bit too far. I’m sorry, Misha. This is only the beginning, though.
As she stood paralyzed by pressure and pride, people were dying—some of whom could have been saved had she acted sooner.
Of course, the full responsibility of that couldn’t be laid at Misha’s feet. No one could blame her for what was happening to those people—no one except for Misha herself.
If she had given up trying to play the hero and had asked for help, it might have left her frustrated and her heart in tatters. She would have moved past the tears and stood back up eventually, but she hadn’t been able to do that. That was why she was here, crying silently on her own.
“Does it hurt?” Ryne whispered. Misha gave a small nod, her eyes still fixed to the floor before she forcefully shook her head. “The dead will come for you. Still, don’t forget that pain. Don’t try to run away from it,” Ryne continued softly, taking Misha’s face in his hands and lifting her gaze to meet his. He looked directly into her eyes. “Not if you want to be an apothecary.”
A shock shot through Misha. “Can... Can I...?” she managed to squeak out, barely audible despite being so close.
But Ryne heard her loud and clear, and he responded with a small smile. “Only you can decide that, Misha.” Then his voice turned soft and gentle. “It’s been really hard for you on your own, hasn’t it?”
At that, Misha finally broke.