77. Leo
77
Leo
“ W hat happened?” I asked Rissa as we strode through the palace to our mother’s private wing.
“She spoke to me. When I was checking on her just now, she actually spoke to me.” I glanced over to see excitement bursting from her features, happiness and hope overflowing. Her lips split into a brilliant beam. “It wasn’t a particularly long conversation, but she asked about you. She said she—she loves us.” Silver swam in her eyes.
Our mother hadn’t uttered a word in longer than I could remember. Always that glassy stare, those lips forever set into a thin line of apathy, no hint as to what was going on in her mind as she aged over the years. Something in my chest fluttered, but I refused to give it attention until I saw for myself. “How is this possible?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe Gayl did something to her? Or his magic from the night he saved you and her might have had some sort of residual hold that was broken when he died?”
We burst into her room, and the sight before me stopped me in my tracks.
Pale yellow curtains trimmed with lace fluttered in the breeze from the cracked window. Sunlight splashed across the four-poster bed, highlighting the woman lying there in a golden glow.
No, not lying. Sitting .
My mother sat upright, a cup of tea in her steady hands and a kind smile on her face.
“Leo?” she asked softly, her voice hoarse and quiet. The sound nearly made me crumble.
“It’s me, Mother,” I replied hesitantly, stepping toward her bed. Her free hand trembled as she held it out to me, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
All movement and sound came back to me in a rush. I crossed the room in three steps and knelt on the floor by her bed, clutching her hand in mine. It was warm and soft and full of life, no longer cold and fragile as I had come to know it.
Healed . She was healing . Could this be possible? After years of giving up, of us thinking her ever returning to normal was a lost cause, was our mother finally coming back to us?
“I’ve missed you, my sweet boy,” she said. Fates, I had forgotten what her voice sounded like. The backs of my eyes burned as she squeezed my fingers. Rissa moved to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge, taking our mother’s teacup and placing it on the bedside table.
“How do you feel, Mother?” my sister asked.
“Like I’ve been sitting in this bed for far too long,” she responded with a weak chuckle.
Rissa laughed and wiped away a tear from her cheek. “Let’s take one thing at a time. You need to eat. Let me call for something to be brought up.”
Mother placed her other hand on Rissa’s leg before she could get up. “Look at you both,” she whispered, tears lining her gaze. “So grown up. So beautiful. I—I feel as if I’ve been a ghost, watching your lives pass through the eyes of someone else.”
I swallowed. “You remember? All this time, could you hear us? Could you see us?”
“At times,” she admitted, her words still slow. “I remember bits and pieces. It’s all rather…hazy. A different life.” She furrowed her brow. “Some parts are darker than others. It feels like entire sections of my life are missing. But I remember feelings —warmth when you would hold my hand, joy when I’d hear your voice. I can’t explain it, but I felt you. I knew you were there. Always there,” she finished quietly, a tear dripping off the end of her nose.
“Always,” Rissa repeated, bringing her hand to her lips and kissing the knuckles. “We missed you so much, Mother.”
“How—how long has it been?”
My sister and I shared a glance. “It’s been fifteen years since Father died,” I finally said. “And you’ve been sick for the last ten.”
She took in a shuddering breath. I could practically see the shock and denial flashing across her features. Her hazel eyes widened, the wrinkles at her pale forehead deepening. She struggled to swallow as her lips parted.
“Fifteen years ,” she murmured. Looking between the two of us, she took in our faces, scanning us with those eyes that could always see straight through. “My babies,” she said in a choked whisper. “Although, you’re not babies anymore, are you?”
“I suppose not,” Rissa said with a sniffle.
“How did this happen?” Mother asked. “How am I…” She trailed off, releasing her grip on us and glancing down at her hands. “I remember things becoming clearer. Sounds were sharper, colors brighter. I felt as if I had control of myself again. And when I woke up this morning…”
“We don’t know,” I said. “But we think it may have something to do with Gayl.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Theodore? What could he possibly have to do with this?”
Rissa licked her lips. “Well, he’s…he’s dead, Mother. And when he died, enchantments he cast throughout his entire life started to unravel. Spells he had over people have broken in these last few days. We were wondering if”—she looked at me out of the corner of her eye—“if he had somehow used his magic on you before you be came sick, or if it could have been a side effect of what happened the night we were born.”
Mother sucked in a breath. “What do you know of that night?”
I paused, silence pressing in on us, until I said, “Everything.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the pillow. Rissa jumped in. “We can let you rest, Mother. We don’t have to have this conversation right?—”
“No, no, I’m fine.” Mother waved her hand. “That night weighed on your father and I for so long, but in the end, we would never have changed a thing. For then we wouldn’t have both of you,” she said, grasping our hands again. “I had always felt… something lingering, a piece of Gayl’s spell embedded in me, perhaps. I don’t think one can go through what I went through and not have consequences. It festered throughout the years, but your father’s death…” She let out a long breath and closed her eyes again. “I feared I would never come back from that.”
“But you’re here now,” Rissa said, scooting forward to be closer to her. “Gayl’s magic is gone and we’re together again. We can start over. Be a family .”
Mother smiled wistfully, more tears tracking down her cheeks. “I’m here, sweet girl,” she repeated. “And I’m so sorry. So sorry we kept things from you, sorry I left you—that I missed so much, and?—”
“Don’t you dare apologize for that,” I interjected. “None of this was your fault.”
A sob escaped her. “I only wish we could have that time back.”
“We’ll make time,” Rissa said. “We have the entire future ahead of us. So many memories left to make. You’re going to be absolutely sick of us,” she added, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand.
Mother and I both chuckled. “The two of you will have to fill me in on these past years, I suppose. What have I missed?”
I looked at Rissa, who raised an eyebrow. With that sly grin she got from our mother, my sister asked, “Should you start, or shall I?”