Chapter 29 #2
Caelian paid careful attention to her face, noting the way the faint lines across her forehead deepened then faded, coming and going like the tide.
Every so often she would purse her lips or press them into a firm line, her brows pulling together or arching slightly.
She read through each one, her gaze flitting over the strange shapes and markings, her expression shifting and changing with every word.
Morwyn sighed heavily, then shuffled the letters together.
It could have been a play of light sifting through the elegant branches of the Eldergrove, but a shadow clouded half of her face, stealing the warmth from Morwyn’s eyes. She blinked, gave her head a light shake, then set the letters back upon the table.
“I fear these letters will not give you the answers you seek.” Her solemn voice extinguished the last spark of hope inside Caelian’s chest. “These are…well, they’re love letters. Very poignant love letters.”
“What?” Caelian’s mouth fell open and she snapped it shut. She snatched the first one, her eyes darting back and forth over the strange squiggles and lines, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not make sense of the words. “Love letters between who?”
Morwyn offered her a small smile, laced with sympathy. “Between your mother and your father.”
It was as though someone had pierced her with a searing blade, puncturing her lungs.
She simply could not draw air. Disbelief pulled her thoughts in every direction, because how could Trysta possibly poison the man with whom she confessed her undying love?
It made absolutely no sense. Unless she was lying, of course.
But then why write any letters to Zenos at all?
There were other ways to earn a male’s affection, and they didn’t involve swapping words of adoration on ink and parchment.
“You’re certain these letters are between Zenos and Trysta Starstorm?” she asked, the cold and calculated weight of realization settling around her shoulders.
“Absolutely. There is no mistaking their names.” Morwyn’s confirmation was unwavering.
Caelian stood abruptly, gathering the letters, and tucking them safely into the pocket of her dress. She closed her hand around the river stone, squeezed it tightly. “If my parents were truly in love, then something, somewhere, went horribly wrong.”
Morwyn did not respond, but she dipped her head in understanding, already knowing what Caelian was about to say next.
“I must go to the River Thalorien.”
Caelian wasted no time trekking to the river’s edge.
For some reason, she thought she would have to sneak past other Druids and not catch their notice, because she imagined a river that kept memories would most certainly be a popular spot.
But as she stood on the sun-dappled banks, with the cushioned blades of grass beneath her feet, she was the only one there.
She lowered herself to the ground, smoothed her skirts underneath her, and drew her knees to her chest. The River Thalorien spoke to her in whispered song, but though its voice was a tempting lure of melody, the words themselves were warped and confusing.
It seemed the only logical thing to do was dunk her head underwater so that its words were no longer garbled, but Caelian didn’t feel like drowning, so she subjected herself to its obscure song.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the river stone.
Part of her imagined it would come to life being this close to the river, that it would fling itself back into the turquoise current. But alas, it lay flat in her palm while she stared at it, unsure of what to do next.
Caelian ran her fingers over the three swirls marking its surface, wishing she knew what they meant.
“Have you ever used a memory stone before?”
Lira’s song-like voice floated over her, and Caelian startled, glancing up.
Standing above her was Lira, her cerulean gaze locked on the river’s rapids as the water rushed past rocks, then dipped sharply, following nature’s true path.
She wore a skirt of the palest blue and a corset of buttery yellow.
Her blouse was white and draped loosely from her bare shoulders, while ribbons curled behind her in the gentle breeze.
Her dark pink hair was long and loose, ruffling around her in gentle waves, and where she stood, lilacs sprouted and bloomed.
“I haven’t.” Caelian closed her fingers around the stone. “What do I do first?”
“It’s fairly simple.” Lira dropped onto the ground next to her, stretching out her lovely long tanned legs.
She braced herself with her hands, tipping her face up to the glimmers of sunlight peeking in through the overhang of leaves above.
“You’ll want to wade a little into the river, up to your ankles is fine.
There’s no need to go deeper than that. Then you’ll concentrate, feel the river move and flow around you.
When you’re ready, toss the stone into the river, and ask to see the memory. ”
“That’s it?” Caelian questioned, pushing to her feet. “I don’t have to say any magic words or anything of the like?”
Lira laughed, tinkling and bubbly. She crossed her ankles, her smile illuminating her face. “No magic words. Just ask.”
“And…” Caelian hesitated, stepping closer to the rushing waters. “Do I say them out loud? Or in my head?”
“Whichever is more comfortable for you.” Lira lifted one shoulder, then let it fall in a half-hearted shrug. “The river will hear you either way.”
Right.
Mustering up the remains of her courage, Caelian waded into the river until the cool flow of it caressed her ankles.
Smooth pebbles and stones cradled her feet, sifting as the water rushed past. Inhaling deeply, she summoned her wavering courage.
She could do this, she could ask to see a memory.
After all, she’d done and seen far worse.
Stars above, she attempted to sacrifice herself for three baby dragons.
She lost her magic to save Kjeld’s life.
Certainly she could do something so uncomplicated as speaking to a river.
Around her, the branches of nearby trees swayed and shook, as though they were unable to control their laughter.
As though the Myrkwild was also privy to her thoughts.
Squaring her shoulders, she gripped the stone tightly in one hand, then glanced back over her shoulder at Lira, who was still sprawled on the banks.
“What will it feel like?” Caelian called out, a spike of worry needling her spine. She didn’t even consider what might happen after she thew the stone. For all she knew, she could be transported to another time, another place.
Lira leaned back and flashed an encouraging smile. “Like remembering.”
All well and good if it was Caelian’s memory, but this one supposedly belonged to her mother. Or at least Morwyn has claimed as much.
She really hoped the Druid queen was right.
Before Caelian could lose her nerve, she closed her eyes and welcomed the ebb and flow of the current.
Smooth stones slid and shifted beneath her feet, the water coursed around her ankles, absorbing her into its ethereal beauty.
Inhaling deeply, Caelian breathed in the world around her—crisp greenery, sweet florals, the distant tang of the sea—and then she tossed the stone into the river.
Show me my mother’s memory.
Please.
At first there was nothing, just the sound of rushing water in her ears.
Agonizing seconds ticked by, and she worried she’d fallen into some kind of trap, one destined to make her look like an absolute fool.
She almost opened her eyes, almost cursed herself for believing it would work when it wasn’t her memory to start.
But then an array of vibrant colors blurred in her mind, swirling and spreading like watercolors, bleeding into an image of two people locked in an embrace.
It looked like a romantic painting at first—a male dressed in his finest, a female in a gown of light blue.
They only had eyes for each other, and embarrassment flooded Caelian.
This shared moment between them was private.
Intimate. And she didn’t think she should be willingly looking upon it, until everything cleared and the couple came into sharp focus.
It wasn’t just any couple.
It was Caelian’s parents.
And she was at their wedding.
Zenos and Trysta were young. They were alive. And they were absolutely in love.
They stood at the Moonfall Peaks, Zenos in a trim suit with a handsome grin, Trysta in a gown with a crown of twigs and flowers upon her head.
There was no glamour. No disguise. Zenos married Trysta knowing she was a Druid, he hadn’t been tricked or fooled.
Caelian gaped at the scene unfolding before her.
It played on repeat, the same handful of seconds, over and over again.
Her mother laughing, her father smiling.
He would twirl her once, then kiss her soundly on the mouth to the sound of enthusiastic applause.
Spellbound, Caelian couldn’t look away, not even when the scene spiraled into a hazy medley of colors and sounds.
The wedding faded into the background and in its place was a slightly older version of Trysta, with a gaggle of children at her feet.
Eight to be exact. Caelian’s siblings laughed and played, the cries of delight and merriment echoing through House Celestine so far gone that Caelian could barely recall them.
Yet much like the scene before it, this one replayed itself.
The Starstorm siblings playing. Their mother doting upon them.
A chilling knock on the main door and Trysta coming face to face with the callous expression of Queen Elowyn.
Caelian longed to pause it, if she could only freeze the frame of this memory, then maybe she could pinpoint where everything went wrong.
From what she’d witnessed so far, it looked as though her mother had loved them.
All of them. If these memories were real and true, then Trysta was a good mother who’d been desperately in love with Zenos Starstorm.
Caelian blinked, determined to understand what was being said between her mother and Queen Elowyn before this vision vanished.
Because when Trysta glanced over her shoulder, her gaze raking over the faces of her children, fear was reflected in her eyes.
Cold, terrifying fear.
What is the queen saying to her?
Caelian strained.
It was as though the river heard her plea, and Queen Elowyn’s frigid and clipped tone clashed against the murmur of wishes in her mind.
“You cannot have both, Trysta. You must choose.”
Choose? What in the stars…
“Them.” The queen’s glare sharpened as she scowled at the children. “Or him.”
Caelian gasped, stumbling back. Horror filled her until her blood was ice pumping through her veins, freezing her from the inside out, and her heart was slashed in half.
Ripped from her chest. She clamped a hand over her heart, disbelieving the memory unfolding before her.
She waded further into the river, felt the rush of water engulf her knees.
This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be true.
“No! Mother, no! Don’t listen to her!” she shouted, as though she half expected Trysta to turn and see her, like she thought she could save her mother from making a damning mistake.
Again, the setting whirled and churned, making Caelian’s head spin.
Her stomach rolled with nausea. Her lungs burned for air, but she refused to release the breath she was holding.
She came to Wenfyre for the truth. She wanted it.
Needed it. Not only for herself, but for her brothers and sisters.
When the colors settled and the image finally cleared, there was only Trysta standing alone in her office.
The whites of her eyes were rimmed red, silent tears streaming down her face.
Her breath caught on a choking sob. In one hand was a vial of some mysterious, unknown liquid.
And in her other she held the memory stone, with the triple spirals.
Pressing the large pebble to her lips, Trysta’s voice broke as she whispered, “Remember, I love you.”
“No!” Caelian screamed, reaching for her mother as the vision blurred, then vanished from sight completely.
She stumbled back into Lira’s arms as hot tears burned her eyes and scalded her cheeks.
“Caelian, are you okay? What is it?” Lira’s voice was a soothing balm to the devastating ache in her soul. “What happened?”
The truth poured from her before she could stop it, the words fresh and painful, like charred layers of skin peeling off burnt flesh.
“I was wrong about her. We all were. She was…she was good. My mother, that is.” Caelian pressed the heel of her hand against her heart in a desperate attempt to ease the ache building there.
But it continued to grow and fester until it became an unbearable weight.
A burden of unimaginable guilt. “She loved us. Once.”
If only Caelian could look through all of Trysta’s memories and figure out why she stopped. Or at the very least, when.
“Don’t let your heart trouble you.” Lira wrapped her arms tightly around Caelian, as though she was trying to infuse their embrace with sympathy, kindness, and warmth. “You have the truth, and in time, you will have the understanding.”
Lira made a valid point. Eventually, this would all be sorted out.
Eventually, Caelian would be able to make sense of it.
Eventually, she would no longer feel as though she’d misjudged her mother, loathed her, when all the while, Trysta would have moved the moon and stars for her.
If she hadn’t been forced to do Queen Elowyn’s bidding.
Perhaps Ariesian could help her understand, since he was the eldest.
And if that was the case, then as much as she yearned to stay in Wenfyre, she knew she needed to return to Aeramere first.
“Come with me.” Lira looped their arms together, their cotton skirts swaying and tangling in the playful breeze. “I have just the thing to make you feel better.”
“Does it by chance involve another memory stone?” Caelian asked, ever hopeful.
Lira’s tinkling laugh rang out. “No, but it does involve a new dress and a large glass of bloomfire wine.”