Sing Me Your Scars (Apex Voices Book 3) by Damien Angelica Walters

The room filled with the smell of pine and cinnamon.
    She gave a weak laugh, her breath emerging in a vapory plume. As
the snowflakes melted, he could not help looking over both shoulders. No one
could possibly have felt such a small magic, and the curtains were shut tight,
but still…
    “You have the best magic in the world,” Laurita said.
    He kissed her forehead. “I have the best daughter in the world,
but now, you must go to sleep.”
    “Okay,” she said, her eyes already half-closed.
    He pretended not to notice the pale cast to her skin. The shadows
beneath her eyes. Her frail limbs. The breath wheezing in and out of her lungs.
Just as he pretended not to see the soldiers outside. It was
    safer
    better that way.
    §
    Andrius tossed and turned in his own bed, hating the way the
space beside him felt like a country he could only dream of visiting. Wind
rattled against the glass, and a boom sounded in the distance. Maybe
Perkūnas was wielding the bolts of thunder and lightning. Maybe not. He
was also the god of war, yet he seemed in no hurry to strike down the invaders.
Perhaps he didn’t care at all.
    The rest of the world was far too busy watching Paris fall to the
Germans to worry about Andrius’s country and the suffering of its people. There
were whispers of ways out, of soldiers who would look the other way for the
right amount of money, but he did not have the money, and Laurita was not
strong enough for travel.
    He scrubbed his face with his hands. A trace of magic lingered on
his skin, giving his palm a luminescent appearance. Such a small thing. Such a
huge risk. But it was all he had.
    Saulė had always loved the snowflakes, too.
    He rolled over to the empty
side of the bed and buried his face in her pillow. He could still smell the
scent of her skin. Tears burned in his eyes. He inhaled deeply, pulling in her
scent as far as he could.
    She would still be with them if he hadn’t let her go out on her
own. He’d known it was dangerous. But she’d smiled and said she’d be right
back, she was only going to the market, and he’d kissed her on the cheek and
said, “Okay.” He should’ve said no, it was not okay. He was supposed to protect
her.
    He punched the mattress and sobbed into the pillow. It was all
his fault and there was nothing he could do. He could only pray they took her
to Siberia. At least there she would have a chance. A tiny one, but better than
the alternative.
    “Oh, Saulė,I miss you. I miss you so much,” he said,
his voice muffled. “Please forgive me.”
    He should’ve done something.
Anything.
He cried until his
throat ached, then clasped his hands together and prayed. He prayed Ruta made
it home safe and sound. He prayed for his country. He prayed for Saulė.And last, he prayed for a miracle for Laurita. He wished with all his heart
she would see her seventh birthday. Surely the gods could grant him that.
    §
    Coughing woke him in the middle of the night. He stumbled in
the darkness, banging his shin on the doorframe. Laurita was hunched over in
the bed, her hands cupped over her mouth. The coughs came out ragged and thick.
He rubbed her back and held a cloth to her mouth until the coughing subsided.
    After he wiped the blood from her lips, he tucked the cloth away
before she could see it and measured out a spoonful of the medicine Ruta, his
wife’s best friend in the time before fear and soldiers, had risked her life to
bring. It was not a curative (those medicines belonged to other countries,
countries without soldiers and tanks invading their lands) but would make
it…easier for her.
    Laurita made a face. “I don’t like medicine.”
    “I don’t either.” He smiled. “Here, let’s make it taste better.”
He waved his hand. The liquid turned amber; the sweet smell of flowers wafted
from the spoon. She swallowed it down and smiled.
    “Will the medicine help me get better?”
    “Yes, it will.”
    “And when I am well, will Mama come back?”
    He swallowed hard