Chapter 26
Light is Coming
The Winter Solstice was anything but cheerful that year, but Ember tried to keep her spirits up for Theo’s sake.
The day after their arrival Gaelen decorated the chateau in greens and reds and silvers and golds, and sparkling tinsel hung in between lit candles on a beautifully decorated tree in the corner of the large sitting room.
As lovely as it was, she felt her heart shatter every time she looked at the posh decorations.
There was no popcorn strung haphazardly around the room, no colored paper turned into chains or mismatched ornaments that had been collected over the years.
Everything matched—everything had its own special place—and something about that made her feel like she was standing on the moon instead of her sitting room.
Her sitting room.
The words still tasted sour in her mouth.
She had spent the first week in the chateau looking for a traveling room and finally came upon it on the sixth day.
She tapped on the runes carved into the brass handle, waiting for the tree to begin to glow, but nothing happened.
She learned later, from one of the other Merrow, that it required a special key to use, and even then, it only took you to the town center in Torsvik.
Ember found out quickly that it was the case for all the Echopoints scattered about the city trapped behind the mountains, and the information did nothing but sour her mood. There was no way out, no way back home.
She was trapped.
A little hand wrapped around her own and tugged, and she looked down to see big green eyes looking expectantly up at her.
Theo hadn’t left Ember’s side for more than a few minutes since they had arrived—the only time she could get any time to herself to think was if she slipped away while he was working with Gaelen or in the middle of the night after he had finally fallen asleep.
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and smiled—or tried to—as they stood in the doorway.
“Will Odin find me here?” he signed, as he chewed on his bottom lip.
Ember smiled as she ruffled his hair. “Of course he will,” she replied. “I’ll bet he leaves you a pile of presents so big he can barely fit it through the door.”
Theo grinned brightly as he began signing furiously, fingers moving a mile a minute as he rattled off a list of all of the books he was hoping he would get.
There was no Winter Solstice party that year, just an elegant meal served in the posh dining room encased in what felt like a large greenhouse.
The table was decorated beautifully, but Ember found it very difficult to make herself care.
A fat, roasted pig lay in the middle, surrounded by garland and candles and citrus of all kinds.
Bowls of green beans and carrots and mashed potatoes and baskets of rolls were scattered about around it, and Ember’s mouth wasn’t even watering.
Helvig was there—that was what she had decided to call him.
Not the Jarl or King or whatever it is he was.
And certainly not Granda’—never Granda’.
To his left sat Collum, as stoic as ever, one hand almost always hovering over the dagger hanging from his belt.
Every now and then he would shoot her an assessing glare, like he was making sure she wasn’t going to bolt from the room and run away.
As if she had anywhere to run to.
Rowan wasn’t there—where she was, Ember didn’t know or care.
She could be locked away in a damp dungeon with little more than soggy bread to eat, and Ember couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.
She picked at her food, her appetite still not having returned fully, and tried to imagine what the boys were doing.
It was the only thing keeping her sane. Sometimes she would imagine that this was all just an awful nightmare, and she would wake up at the farm with Eira cooking breakfast, Fen stealing her bacon, Maeve chasing the chickens, and Otto kissing them each on the head before he left for work.
Sometimes the imagining helped ease the pain.
Today, no amount of imagining or wishing or dreaming took away the ache that was tearing her from the inside out.
After supper, Ember excused herself to the sitting room where she curled up on the couch with a book and tried to drown out the roaring in her head.
“You didn’t eat much at supper,” Gaelen said, as she sat a cup of tea and some biscuits on the oak table in front of the couch. “Care for a midnight snack?” A smile played at the edge of her lips as she sat in the chair to the left of the fire.
“How would you know what I ate at supper?” Ember asked playfully, as she took one of the biscuits from the plate. “They hardly let you in the room.”
Ember had just barely heard her mother whispering something about ‘the help eating in the kitchen’ to Gaelen before guests arrived, and it did nothing to put out the ever-growing fire in her belly.
“I could try to find your cape,” Ember thought out loud, as she sipped her tea. “One of us should be able to leave this hell hole at least.”
Gaelen laughed as she leaned back in her chair, more relaxed than Ember ever recalled seeing her.
“Even if you did,” she replied, “I wouldn’t go. My place is here, with you and your brother. I will not leave you alone.”
Ember closed her eyes as she nodded, allowing the words to wash over her.
I will not leave you alone.
“The Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year,” Gaelen whispered, both to Ember and to herself it seemed, “but it doesn’t last forever.” She stood up from her chair, kissing Ember on the head as a silent tear rolled down her cheek. “Light is coming, Ember. Hold on for it.”
Theo’s face lit up as he walked into the sitting room the next morning, seeming to be very happy at the fact that Odin did not, in fact, forget him.
He tore into presents like they might be snatched out of his hands at any moment, and the way he smiled almost made Ember forget about how miserable she felt.
“How do you like your dress?” Aoife asked from her seat, as she took a sip out of her mug. “I had it made especially for you.”
Ember ran her fingers along the velvet dress and tried to smile.
“It’s nice, Mum.” She nodded, and that was all she could manage.
She could barely look at her mother, let alone hold any sort of conversation.
Despite her brother’s smile as he flipped through his new books, Ember couldn’t push away the shadow that crept into her chest. She couldn’t stop thinking about her last Yule—her first Yule.
She tried not to think about the farm and the Kitts and Maeve, tried to focus on Theo and the joy on his face, but the darkness kept inching its way back in, bit by bit.
And that’s when she saw them, perched on a tree just outside the sitting room window—a robin and a wren. She smiled as she swallowed the lump steadily building in her throat and hugged her mug of tea to her chest.
Light was coming. It had to be.