58. Ellowyn
Chapter 58
Ellowyn
A small green tendril of magic unfurled from my hand and quickly shot toward the wilting vine my tutor placed in the middle of the room.
Where is she finding all of these dying plants?
The thought momentarily caused my focus to waver and my magic abruptly died. I huffed in frustration, pushing some errant strands of hair off my face.
“You need to focus , Ellowyn. All of magic is about focus, surely you were taught this?” My tutor, Mistress Lautaro, was a Creation Mage of personal selection by my parents. She was older, even older than them, with stark-white hair that was always pulled back into a tight bun. Her skin was slightly wrinkled, her mouth always set in a grim line that sometimes transformed into a frown, especially in moments when I didn’t perform to her expectations. Which was almost always. She wore heavy brocade dresses with overcoats that covered her from chin to toe, and I always wondered how she could move in them and not overheat in the warming air.
My face and back were sweating, my blonde hair long since pulled back into a hasty braid, but small errant curls still found a way out of their confines to stick to my forehead and neck. It was solidly summer and Hestin’s weather was responding in kind. I averted my gaze from Mistress Lautaro’s sharp one, in favor of the long windows that looked outside. I sighed longingly.
This time last year I was reading in the woods or secretly helping our staff with the garden. The feel of earth beneath my feet, the caress of grass, the delicate work of creating something beautiful out of a small seed of nothing. I closed my eyes, practically able to smell the grass and plants as they grew under the humid sun.
My body tingled and I felt content.
I was at peace.
“Ellowyn!” Mistress Lautaro snapped, pulling me from my bubble of peace. “Control! You must focus and gain control! You lost it . . . again!”
I reluctantly opened my eyes to see plants and greenery sprouting everywhere in the room—between the cracks of stone that lined the floor, from the windowsill, and up the walls. Almost the entire room was covered in green, and I giggled, in awe of my ability.
Mistress Lautaro, however, was not as pleased.
“Yet another room we must have the staff clean. Your parents are running out of rooms for you, girl. If you cannot focus, I simply might have to turn in my resignation,” she barked.
I sighed. Despite my disdain for Mistress Lautaro, I didn’t want her to leave. If Mistress Lautaro left, she’d undoubtedly blame me, which in turn would cause Mother to have a conniption fit. The one blessing of Mistress Lautaro’s lessons was the lack of time I had to spend with Mother learning about how to become a “good wife.”
I wrinkled my nose at the thought.
As excited as I was to become Torin’s wife, I was equally as unenthused with the lessons that accompanied my betrothal. My mother doubled down on our previous lessons. Instead of learning decorum and manners, I was instructed on how to plan the perfect soiree, and to my utter embarrassment, my duties as a wife in the bedroom.
“Ellowyn!” Mistress Lautaro snapped her fingers and I jumped. “Are you even listening to me? No, I would gather not since you can’t seem to find any sort of control.” She massaged her temples with both wrinkled hands. “We are done for the day. Go practice some of your exercises in restraint or something. Just . . . get out of my sight. ”
A smile broke out across my face, and I worked quickly to school it. I curtsied briefly to Mistress Lautaro before practically running from the room.
Wives of lords don’t run, Ellowyn. They walk. Quickly if need be, but they walk .
My mother’s voice echoed in my head, and I sighed internally, slowing my gait to a clipping walk, head held high. She was having the servants report back to her on my behavior, or lack thereof, and I was now expected to behave as a lady should at all times.
My only saving grace was the short visits I got to have with Peytor and Finian late at night in Peytor’s rooms. They’d been spending as much time together as possible, which albeit wasn’t much. Both our father and Matteo were intensely training Peytor and Finian to take over their positions, so their days were full of meetings.
But they sometimes sacrificed their precious time together to invite me over and give me time to relax and simply be without the constraints put on me by our mother and Mistress Lautaro.
I sped through the halls, hell-bent on reaching the garden before I could be stopped, or found, by Mother. Just as I turned the corner that would lead to our personal garden, I heard her call out behind me.
“Ellowyn, wait.” I slowed and came to a stop, internally groaning at her timing. I could see the garden through the window. Bees flew lazily about from flower to flower and the plants swayed in a gentle breeze. I was so close to freedom, I could almost taste it.
Mistress Lautaro must have told her I was done for the day .
“I heard you’re continually losing control, Ellowyn. Still?” Mother’s voice was sharp, and I winced slightly at the accusation in her tone.
“I am trying,” I pleaded as she caught up to me. Her expression was severe and there were more lines on her face than there were even a few months ago. Ever since my Awakening, Mother became even more distant and determined. She wouldn’t tell me what caused her so much stress—gods forbid we speak about something other than etiquette and responsibilities—but I could see the effect it had on her.
“Don’t whine, Ellowyn. Admit to your mistakes.” Her voice was like a whip, and I pressed my lips into a thin line.
“I am still struggling with controlling my magic. Mistress Lautaro gave me some focusing exercises. They are helping, albeit minutely,” I lied. The exercises weren’t helping in the slightest.
My mother’s calculating gaze swept across my face before she nodded once.
“Very well. It’s a blessing, really, that your lesson was canceled early today. Your father and I would like to speak with you briefly in his study.” Immediately my hands began to sweat, and I clasped them together to keep from fiddling.
“Yes, Mother,” I intoned, my voice devoid of emotion as we turned from the entrance to the garden and made our way back up the stairs to my father’s study. I dragged my feet slightly, the only way I knew how to rebel in my current situation.
My mother didn’t knock, simply pushed open the door. Father sat behind his desk, hand bracing his forehead as the other held a missive of some kind. He looked up as we entered, a sunny smile transforming his face.
“Daughter!” he said as he dropped the missive and stood, wrapping me in his arms in one of his signature hugs. I melted into him, breathing in his scent of leather and tobacco, instantly at ease.
“Hi, Father,” I said into his shoulder as he released me, holding me at arm’s length by my shoulders.
“How are your lessons?”
Before I could respond, my mother interjected, “She can’t retain focus long enough to even resuscitate a dying vine. Her lessons are abysmal, and her control is greatly lacking. I fear we may have to take . . . other steps to help her grow.”
My father’s hands stiffened slightly at her words, and he squeezed once before letting me go.
“That won’t be necessary, Acantha.” My father’s voice was light but carried a tinge of warning. Mother made a sound of disproval in the back of her throat before dropping the subject. At the end of the day, my father’s word was law in our house, and I was grateful for it today.
Father turned his gaze from Mother to me, his face softening as he did so.
“Today is a short meeting, Ellowyn. But still important. We received a message from Lord d’Refan. He, and a few others, will be coming back to stay for a while.” I couldn’t detect any note of reluctance in my father’s tone, but his eyes betrayed his worry.
“May I ask why?” The lessons from Mother pushing to the forefront of my mind.
“In my office, around me, Ellowyn, you may always ask whatever you wish,” he said kindly. Mother made another noise in the back of her throat but was quickly silenced by a singular look from my father.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and Father stroked my cheek softly.
“Apparently one of his acolytes learned how to perform a Bond that cures Mage Sickness.”
I reared my head back, not sure what I was expecting him to say, but Bonds and Mage Sickness were the furthest thing from my thoughts.
“What? But that’s . . . that’s impossible .”
“Apparently not. At least for Lord d’Refan’s people. They’ve started a campaign to register Vessels who would be willing to take this new Bond for Mages who are ill. Their first stop is Hestin.” His voice betrayed a note of concern.
“You’re worried,” I stated, and my mother scoffed.
“There are already people registering without us even announcing it,” she said scornfully. “Apparently there is some signing bonus attached to this campaign, and the lower class are running to it in droves.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand how this is a bad thing? If we can keep Mages from becoming sick and give our lower class a chance to feed their families, I don’t see the negative.”
“Don’t be daft, Ellowyn,” my mother spit.
“Acantha,” Father warned, and she bit her tongue, hate emanating from her in waves.
“We fear some other play. Perhaps this isn’t a new type of Bond at all and just a way to Bond more of his Mages. Maybe it’s a way to incite turmoil in the lower classes—war is profitable after all. Maybe there is something else happening that we can’t even predict. But he knows about Jarius.” I sucked in a breath at his admission.
“How?” I croaked. That was the one thing we were supposed to keep secret.
How could he find out?
My father shrugged his shoulders. “We’re not certain at this point. But Hestin as his first stop? When we have a Keeper in our manor, and you emerged as a Mage claimed by both Solace and Kaos? It doesn’t take a genius to see the connections.”
My blood ran cold at the facts laid bare. “He’ll be staying here, again,” my mother said. “Jarius is already moved to another, more secure, location.”
I nodded my head, unsure what to say. “What does this have to do with me?”
My father hummed quietly before backing away and pouring himself two fingers of whiskey, quickly shooting it back.
“Jarius gave us a few possible futures before he left,” my father muttered, twirling the empty glass between his hands.
“And?” I prompted, looking expectantly between my mother and father.
“You know he can’t see the future, only possibilities, paths. And most of the time it’s just a jumble of images, apparently, nothing concrete. He saw chaos and blood, variations of it.” My father paused and I leaned forward expectantly.
There’s still something he’s hiding .
“And they all involve, you ,” my mother hissed. “What you do, what you say, how you act—it will sway the future. Not just ours or yours, but Elyria’s as well.”
I reared my head back, face blanching.
That is not what I was expecting .
“We need you to be careful when Lord d’Refan arrives, Ellowyn. I understand there is a strange . . . pull to him, but you need to keep your distance as much as possible,” my father concluded, voice soft but firm.
I gave him a wan smile, trying to ease the tension that just skyrocketed.
“Anything you need, I’ll do. I love my family, Hestin, and our people. If what I do or say will hurt anyone, I’ll stay out of sight and away,” I said, and meant it. My family was everything to me.
“Very good, I expected nothing less. Acantha, I’d like a word with Ellowyn alone, please,” my father said, motioning for my mother to leave the room.
I heard her anger as she clipped across the room and slammed the door behind her.
My father stared at the door for a few seconds after she left, sucking lightly on his teeth .
“Every decision I make is for my family, Ellowyn. I love you so much and I don’t take my job as your father or Lord of Hestin lightly, you know this, right?” he finally asked, eyes finding mine and holding my gaze.
“Father, you’re scaring me,” I whispered, hands shaking at this sudden privacy and turn of conversation.
“I’ve written to Lord d’Eshu multiple times over the past few weeks, first asking and then begging him to come stay here. Lord d’Refan’s interest in you did not go unnoticed, neither by your family nor by our allies. There are some . . . rumblings of concern from the Northern Territories that he is favoring Hestin. And, to be frank, I’m increasingly worried about your safety. I was hoping that Torin could come and not just keep you safe, but also put some of the other fears to rest, but I haven’t heard anything from him . . . do you have a way to contact him, Ellowyn?” His eyes were probing and contained both a hint of worry and curiosity.
I gulped and my hands began to sweat.
I wanted to tell my father about the dreamscape, and I wasn’t even sure why I was still keeping it a secret, but the words got stuck in my throat.
“No,” I whispered raggedly.
My father’s gaze stayed trained on me for a moment longer, searching for the truth in my words.
“He’s ignored my letters, too,” I admitted. At least that wasn’t a lie.
Eventually my father nodded his head and patted my shoulder lightly.
“I was afraid of that,” he muttered to himself before shooting me a tight smile. “Hopefully he receives our messages and surprises us.” His words were hopeful, but his tone was anything but.
My father wrapped me in a tight hug before sending me back to my room. I hurried more than usual and was sweating by the time I reached the confines of my chamber.
I flung myself into my desk chair before hastily grabbing a piece of paper and a pen and scribbling an urgent message to Torin. I called for Pip and asked her to deliver it to a runner immediately. If Pip was alarmed by my urgency, she said nothing. She simply bobbed a quick curtsy before nearly running from my room, her actions spurned by the pleading in my voice.
Not for the first time I wondered if Torin even existed, or if he was simply a figment of my imagination. I sat heavily on my bed and stared blankly at the wall, desperately trying to think of a solution .
My father seemed nervous—borderline terrified—at the prospect of Lord d’Refan staying here without the protection of Torin.
The only thing I could think to do was the one thing Torin told me not to do. Resolved, I decided to try tonight, and every night after, to pull Torin back into the dreamscape, hoping I could speak to him and convince him to come back to Hestin.