The Extraordinary
THE EXTRAORDINARY
E lda’s sobs reverberated through the cottage, raw and unrelenting. Each moan, each broken gasp, was a blade to Tabian’s heart. He had never seen her like this—so utterly consumed by despair. The small, warm cottage that had always been a place of comfort was now unbearably hollow.
Hans sat rigid in the corner; his small hands clenched into fists at his sides. His red-rimmed eyes were glassy, his face pale with shock. He looked so much smaller than usual as if the weight of his father’s absence had shrunken him.
Tabian knelt in front of Elda, reaching for her ice-cold hands. “‘Twill be all right,” he said, willing his voice to be steady, to be a pillar of strength for them both. “I will discover the identity of the thief, and Garrin will be set free.”
His words, though meant to comfort, only made her weep harder. Her shoulders trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “You—don’t—understand,” she gulped. “The King will never release Garrin. He will be executed.” Her lower lip trembled violently, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Tabian had never seen Elda in such a state. She was the strongest woman he knew. And yet, here she was—shattered.
“You’re right,” he admitted, his own throat tightening. “I don’t understand all that is going on between Garrin and my father.” He searched her grief-stricken face. “I need you to tell me.”
She took in a sharp breath, her expression shifting into one of conflict. “Nay, I can’t.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Garrin wouldn’t like it.”
Tabian clenched his jaw. “I need to know what’s happening. ‘Tis the only chance I have of saving him.”
Elda hesitated, her gaze darting to Hans, who was watching her with wide, pleading eyes.
“Whatever it is, tell him, Mother. Please,” Hans whispered. His voice was thick with unshed tears.
A silence stretched between them. Then, with a slow, shuddering breath, Elda nodded. She wiped at her eyes with trembling hands, struggling to compose herself. “Your mother almost died giving birth to Lucien.”
Tabian stiffened. “I didn’t know that.”
Elda’s voice took on the faraway tone of remembering. “Zyrella was a wonderful mother.” A sad, tender smile passed over her lips. “Her children were her entire world.”
Tabian’s heart ached. How different would his life have been had Mother lived? Father wouldn’t have turned cold, and his brothers would’ve treated him as an equal. He would’ve grown up knowing what it was like to be wanted.
“Zyrella was content with her two sons for a while.” Elda hesitated, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. “But as time passed, she grew restless. She longed for another child. King Roderick was ardently against it. He’d almost lost her once and didn’t want to risk losing her again.” Elda met Tabian’s gaze. “But Zyrella was determined. She told me that her deceased mother came to her in a dream and told Zyrella that her next child would be a son and that he would look almost exactly like her.”
Tabian’s breath hitched. He did look like his mother. A painting of her hung over the mantel in the library—a painful and ever-present reminder of what he never had.
“Zyrella’s mother told her that her third son would be different from the others—that he would be kinder, more inclined to consider others’ feelings.” Elda paused as if wondering if she should speak her next words. “And that he was destined for greatness.”
Tabian’s stomach twisted. The part about him being different and kinder rang true. But the part about greatness? That was absurd. He’d spent his entire life being overlooked, dismissed, and unwanted. How could greatness ever be meant for someone like him?
Elda drew in a breath, her voice growing steadier. “Even though the King forbade her from trying for another child, Zyrella did so. But nothing happened. She became desperate. She begged me for help.”
Tabian’s pulse quickened. “Help?”
She nodded, biting down on her lower lip. “I knew of a woman who could assist with such matters.”
Tabian frowned. “Through magic?”
Elda hesitated, then nodded again. “‘Twas the same enchantress who’d helped Zyrella plant the tree. You see, the tree was planted shortly after Zyrella and Roderick were first married and long before even Alistair was born. Over the years, Zyrella and the enchantress had lost touch with one another.” She paused, her jaw working. “I never would have taken Zyrella to visit the enchantress so they could renew their friendship had I known what would happen.” She twisted the fabric of her frock around her hands. “The enchantress told Zyrella that she could help her conceive.” Elda paused. “But there was a price.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “A terrible price.”
Tabian pressed his knuckles into the wooden floor to steady himself. “She willingly gave up her life for me?”
“Aye.” A deep sadness shrouded her eyes in shadows.
The air got sucked from the room. Tabian was struck to the core by the revelation that shattered every belief he’d held about his own existence. His mother had not merely died giving birth to him.
She chose him over herself.
The thought made his heart clench. But beneath the grief, a darker realization took hold. “Is that why my father hates me?”
Elda reached for his arm, her grip warm and steady. “I’m so sorry, Tabian. No child should have to endure what you have. For what it’s worth, I don’t think your father ever meant to hurt you. He was just so lost in his grief that he didn’t know how to find his way out.”
Tabian fought against the tide of emotion rising in him. “If you were the one who helped my mother, then what grievance does my father have with Garrin?”
Guilt simmered in Elda’s eyes. “After Zyrella died, the King launched an investigation. It was discovered that she had sought out the enchantress. The trail eventually led to me.” Her voice broke. “To protect me, Garrin took the blame.”
Tabian’s breath caught. “Garrin took the fall for you?”
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. “This is all my fault.”
“Nay.” Tabian gripped her hands tightly. “You were trying to help my mother.”
“I loved Zyrella like a daughter.” She offered Tabian a tender smile. “You are so much like her. Having you in our lives was like getting a part of Zyrella back.”
Something was nagging at Tabian. “Why didn’t my father try to punish Garrin sooner?”
“We thought he would.” She paused. “In fact, we lived in constant fear of retaliation for many years.”
“Why didn’t you flee the kingdom?”
She jerked like she couldn’t believe he asked such a question. “This is our home. Where else would we go? Also, we could never leave you. You are like a son to us.”
Tears brimmed in Tabian’s eyes and dribbled down his cheeks. “You, Garrin, and Hans are my real family.” A few moments later, he wiped his cheeks, thinking of something else. “Why did my father pick now to punish Garrin?”
She looked thoughtful. “I don’t know for sure, but I suspect that it might be because you just had your eighteenth birthday. King Roderick knows how close Garrin and I are to you. Maybe he allowed us to give you the nurturing that he couldn’t—because of his grief. Perhaps he feels that you are now a man of age and can now manage without Garrin’s guidance.”
Determination burned inside him. “I won’t allow it,” he vowed. “I won’t let Father use the excuse of the stolen apples to execute Garrin. I’ll discover the identity of the thief, and then Father will be forced to release Garrin. After that, we’ll leave the kingdom. We can start a new life—with the four of us.”
Cautious hope flickered in Elda’s eyes. “Do you really think you can find out who took the apples when no one else has been able to do so?”
“I can certainly try.” A humorless smile stole over Tabian’s lips. “I’m extraordinary, remember?”
Love shone in her eyes. “You are extraordinary. I just hope that Garrin and I will get the opportunity to live long enough to see you realize it.”