Chapter 16 A Mother Always Knows #2
Ember turned to make her way to the changing room, to get out of the vicinity of the Ellingboe twins as fast as possible.
Not fast enough, though, apparently.
Veda shoved past Ember, Oryn hot on her heels.
“You’re going to pay for that, worm,” she hissed, as she walked by, driving her elbow into Ember’s rib. “Mummy can’t protect you from everything.”
Ember swallowed dryly, narrowing her eyes as her nostrils flared. Veda walked away, and Ember whipped her head around, searching through the sea of students on the pitch. She turned on her heels, marching directly over to Fen and Killian, and shoved her finger into Killian’s chest.
“What did you tell your grimy cousin,” She hissed under her breath, shoving her fingers into his sternum several more times.
“Bloody hell, woman.” He winced as he caught her by the wrist, holding it tight. “What are you on about?”
Ember wrenched her hand out of his grip and crossed her arms tightly over her chest, narrowing her eyes. “Why does Veda know about my eyes,” she asked, lowering her voice. “What did you say?”
It was less a question and more an accusation.
“Your eyes?” Fen asked, bending over to pick camans up off the sideline.
“Yes, my eyes, Fenrir,” she hissed. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”
“Whoa there, Starshine,” Killian said, as he furrowed his brow. “If you’re mad at me, that’s fine, but don’t take it out on, Fen.”
Ember ran her tongue along her teeth and sighed. “Fine,” she replied, shoving him in the shoulder one more time for good measure. “What did you do, Killian Vargr?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied, cocking a brow as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “What makes you think she knows?”
“Because she bloody well said she did,” Ember hissed in reply. “She made some snide remark about my contacts. No one knows about my contacts except for you two.”
“Well, someone else must,” Killian shrugged, “because I didn’t say a word to anyone, least of all my cousins. Now, are you done assaulting me?”
Ember sighed as she ran her hand down her face, biting her lip. “Sorry,” she replied quietly, “just shook me up a bit, I guess.”
“Can we go now?” Fen asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m starving.”
Ember swallowed as she nodded, anxiety still weighing down her chest, and the trio made their way out of the pitch and up the path toward the front of the grounds.
Wardens were positioned throughout the grounds, wandering around stiffly with their hands behind their backs.
Ember straightened her spine as they walked through the ward, seeing one Warden standing on the outer edge.
He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one, too old to be young and hopeful but too young for any true life experience.
His long blond hair was tied loosely behind him, braids scattered throughout it.
He cut his bright blue eyes at the trio as they stepped past, and Ember felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise.
“Best go straight home,” he grunted, nodding in the direction of the Echopoint. “Don’t wander.”
Ember swallowed dryly, nodding. Fen, on the other hand, stood at full attention and gave the man a salute, shooting him a rude gesture as he turned and trotted away. Killian laughed, and Ember shoved him in the arm.
“Fenrir Kitt, what is wrong with you?” she whispered, as they quickly walked toward the Echopoint.
“Relax, Starshine,” Killian laughed. “He’s just having a bit of fun.”
“What’s he going to do? Hex me?” Fen asked with a shrug.
“Or talk to the Dean,” Ember replied, brow raised.
Fen’s eyes widened as he picked up the pace, and Ember laughed as she rolled her eyes, turning back to look at the Warden, now growing smaller behind them.
“Does he look familiar?” she asked.
Fen scrunched his brow as he glanced back and shrugged. “Not particularly, but they all sort of look the same.”
“I think he was at your house,” she replied, puzzle pieces falling into place. “The day that it was broken into, he was definitely there.” Ember remembered the uneasy feeling she had that day, and it felt eerily similar to their encounter moments ago.
“I guess,” Fen shrugged again, “but why does it matter?”
Ember furrowed her brow as she sighed. “I guess it doesn’t.”
The house was quiet when Ember finally walked up the drive and through the large double doors, but she could hear the distinct sound of humming in the kitchen as the smell of soda bread and roast with potatoes wafted through the entryway.
Cutlery could be heard clinking across pots and pans, and Ember quickened her pace to tell Aoife all about her day.
“Mum, I’m done with tryouts,” she called, as she kicked off her shoes. “You’ll never believe what happened. I—" She stopped in her tracks when she walked in the kitchen.
Gaelen was standing at the stove, spooning roast into bowls, and Theo was sitting at the table, brow furrowed as he hunched over a large book. Aoife was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Mum?” she asked, as she sat at the table.
Gaelen set a bowl in front of her, ladling in warm roast as she ruffled Theo’s hair. “She’s busy tonight,” she replied. “Had a meeting she couldn’t miss. She’ll be ‘round later.”
Ember bit her lip as she nodded. So many meetings, so many Helios and secret conversations without any explanations.
Ember couldn’t help but wonder who her mother was talking to or what kind of job required so much of her free time.
Out of nowhere, she had this desire to fly through the door of the Kitts’ with Fen and tell Eira all about her day.
All of a sudden she felt pain rising in her chest—a deep ache for a home that was no longer hers, but always would be.
A family that filled all the rooms with laughter and hope.
A family that shared in each other’s joy and grief.
A family that was no longer her family. Not anymore, not really.
Guilt mixed with grief as she listened to the clink of her fork against her plate.
Her mother had spent a decade thinking she was dead, a decade of grief that Ember understood all too well.
So, why wasn’t she here every chance she had?
She had buried her daughter and husband, and Ember was wishing she was back with a foster family she had only known for a year.
What she had told Fen still stood true—they were not her family, not really. Not anymore. But that hole they had once filled in her chest remained empty. She prayed her mother would fill it one day.
Ember shook the thought away as she took a bite of the roast and tapped lightly on the table. Theo’s head popped up, his grimace quickly turning to a smile, and he gave her a small wave.
“I can help later,” she signed, as she pointed to the book.
Theo nodded eagerly, closing the book, and quickly stuffing his face with bread and stew. Ember chuckled, ignoring the pain in her chest. Sometimes, in the right setting, Theo reminded her so much of Fen.
The two finished dinner and took their plates to the sink, then raced to the sitting room on the other side of the house, Theo sliding across the floor on his socks and rolling over the carpet as he slipped.
His grin lit up his face as it turned bright red.
He jumped off the floor, running to one of the large bookshelves and plucking out the book they had been reading together.
“Do you want to learn,” she signed, “or listen?”
“Listen,” he signed back, tapping her collarbone. Ember smiled as she nodded and began where they left off.
After just a chapter, Theo was snoring beside her. Gaelen walked in, casting a charm on him, and lifting him into her arms. Ember smiled as the Merrow took the boy away, off to his room to tuck him in, and wrapped a blanket around herself, quickly drifting off to sleep too.
After a few minutes, or maybe hours, Ember woke to a gentle nudge on her shoulder.
“I have it on good authority that you have a very comfortable bed upstairs.” Aoife smiled as Ember rubbed her eyes, and she picked up the book that had fallen beside the couch.
“Your dad always fell asleep reading, used to drive me crazy sharing a bed with a small library.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, like she was forcing herself to relive something painful—something she had placed in a box in the back of her mind, intending to forget it altogether.
“Books are good company.” Ember smiled. “The only company I had for a while.” She laughed, intending it to be a lighthearted joke, but her chest tightened when she saw the pain behind her mother’s eyes. Ember bit her lip as she sat up, looking at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean—"
“Don’t apologize,” Aoife replied, smiling as she sat beside her and stroked her hair. “I wasn’t there when you needed me, and that is something I will never forgive myself for.”
Ember shrugged, forcing a small smile. “I turned out alright,” she assured her. “It wasn’t all bad.”
“You get that from your father,” Aoife sighed, the light from the fire dancing across her porcelain skin.
“He always knew how to find little pockets of joy where there seemed to be none.” She laughed as she shook her head.
“Used to drive me mad the way he was always smiling, even when I didn’t feel like there was anything worth smiling about. ”
Ember chewed on her bottom lip. “Can I ask you something, Mum?” Her stomach did a flip as Aoife’s brow scrunch.
“Of course, Mo Stór.” She nodded.
Ember drew in a breath as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap.
“How did you not know it wasn’t me?” She whispered it under her breath, like it was a secret.
“When you identified Dad and me,” she took a steadying breath, imagining a body so like her own lying on a cold slab in the morgue, “why didn’t you realize it wasn’t me you were looking at?
” She couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t understand—because she knew Eira would recognize her.
She knew Eira could pick her out in a sea of redheads with freckles in a heartbeat. And that realization terrified her.
Aoife’s face fell. “She was identical to you.” Aoife shook her head.
“Everything I could see looked exactly like you, down to the smattering of freckles across your nose and cheeks. Had I thought, even for a moment, that it wasn’t you, I never would have rested till I found you.
” Her voice was serious, pain and determination warring in her eyes, and Ember knew she meant it.
She shook the thoughts away. She should just be grateful they were together now.
Picking apart the past wouldn’t change anything. It didn’t matter now.
Aoife ran her hands through Ember’s hair, picking up strands and beginning to cross one over the other as she hummed. “I used to put braids in your hair every morning when you were a wean.” She smiled. “You never could sit still long enough for me to do many, but enough to finish the spell.”
“The spell?” Ember asked, brow raised.
“Aye,” Aoife nodded, “we didn’t practice much magic after we left the island, but protection braids were something we never left the house without putting in your hair.”
Ember smiled, finally feeling her body relax as her mother hummed to herself, weaving small strands of her hair in and out of each other.
“A spell of safety here I cast, a word of might to hold me fast, a shield before me and behind, to right and left, protection bind. To me may no harm or ill whit come. By power of three, my magic is from. With the sacred light around me, as above, so below, blessed be.”
She continued, making several more braids throughout Ember’s hair, lovingly kissing her on the head when she was done.
“Your poor father tried so many times to braid your hair, but he never could figure it out. He was a good father. He always made sure you knew you were safe and loved.”
“His laugh is what I remember most,” Ember grinned, “and the voices he made when he told his stories.” She swallowed, her throat tight. Tears pooled at her lower lash as she bit her lip, steadying her breathing.
“He never failed to make sure you had no idea about adult problems,” Aoife said. “He loved you very much.”
Ember closed her eyes as she nodded, choking back the tears that were threatening to break through.
“It’s late, Mo Stór,” Aoife said, as she kissed her on the head. “Time for bed.”
Ember nodded as she gave her mother a hug and walked toward the stairs.
“And don’t forget to take your contacts out,” Aoife called out, “or your eyes will dry.”
Ember stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as she turned around.
“You know about my eyes?” she asked, swallowing dryly.
“I’m your mother,” Aoife replied. “There are very few things about you that I don’t know.”