CHAPTER FIVE
I was glad to see Ella when I awoke the next morning. Her few days visiting home always made the palace feel emptier.
She gave me a teasing but wary look as she folded her ratty blanket. I ignored it, my gaze catching on fresh, red scratches that ran down the length of her forearm. She saw me looking and tugged her sleeve down.
“How’s David?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. “How was home?”
“Fine.” Her voice was just as hollow. “I should get to work.”
We shared strained smiles and she ducked out of the room. Guilt twisted in my stomach—I should have pushed her to stop hiding what we both already knew.
What I still didn’t want to believe.
I shoved the feeling down. I disliked when she badgered me, and didn’t want to do the same to her. Yet this felt different. It was hard to ignore the signs surrounding her home life, harder still not to fear their meaning.
I turned to pack my bags, lips pressed thin. My heart ached for a friend who didn’t want my help, though she seemed to desperately need it.
Shadowed crowds framed the dawn sky’s colorful dance as I trudged down the dusty lanes home.
My calves and back ached from an intense day of cleaning, leaving me with a slight limp I hoped a weekend at home would ease.
The door creaked as I entered. My niece, Asha, launched herself into my arms.
“Lyranore!”
I laughed, lifting her up and burying my face in her tight curls. I planted a kiss on her cheek before setting her down. Kelara gave me a small wave. She sat on a bench folding Asha’s clothes.
Mama poked her head into the sitting room, her face flushed from the woodstove’s heat. “Welcome home, sweetie. Breakfast’s in the kitchen.”
A grin lit my face. “Thanks, Mama.”
I dropped my bindle by the door and went to sit beside Kelara.
Asha ran over and grabbed my hand, her eyes crinkled in excitement. “Can I come to the castle with you?”
“You’ll have to ask your mother,” I said.
“But Aunt Lyra,” Asha whined.
I tried to stifle my laugh as Kelara glared at me.
“You’re too young, Asha,” my sister asserted.
“I’m six!”
“And still too little. You’ll get lost on the way.”
I ducked my head, hiding a smile. Asha was small for her age, all bony limbs and angles despite how much we tried to feed her. She’d always been that way.
She turned big, pleading eyes toward me. Her lower lip protruded.
I shook my head, even as my resolve threatened to crumble. “Listen to your mama. She knows you best.”
Asha huffed and stalked off toward her Grandmama, likely hoping for a treat to soothe her ire. As soon as she left the room, Kelara and I both broke into snickers.
“Poor girl,” I said, reaching for a small gown as Kelara’s pile of laundry slowly dwindled.
“She’s growing fast enough,” she murmured.
“She won’t be little forever,” I said. “What’s the harm, after all?”
She took a deep breath. “I just… I didn’t expect to worry this much as a mother. Now it feels like it’s all I do. She’s so much smaller than her friends. And it feels like it’s my fault.” Her eyes grew watery. I pressed a hand to her arm.
“You’re an excellent mother,” I told her. “A much better mother than a sister.”
At that, she rolled her eyes, although her lip curved upward. “Very funny.”
“But truly,” I said, my voice turning solemn, “Asha’s lucky to have someone who dotes on her like you do.”
With another exhale, her shoulders sagged. “Thank you.” Her attention turned to a navy linen dress with grass stains around the skirt. She handed it to me. “I suppose I should let her go with you sometime soon. She’s always admiring the palace’s silhouette when we’re at the market.”
I rubbed my thumb over the stain. A dandelion shimmer hovered in the air above, and the green tinge slowly faded.
“She brags about you to her friends, you know,” Kelara continued. “Claims she has the best aunt in the kingdom: she works with the princes, does magic…”
“Works for the princes,” I corrected her. “And does menial magic.” I handed back the dress, free of the stains that had marred it moments ago.
“Incredible,” Kelara proclaimed, and it was my turn to roll my eyes.
“I can take her tomorrow, if you’d like,” I said. “I’ve got the day off, and the weather mage at the market said it’ll be sunny.”
She wrinkled her nose. “The weather mage is rarely right.”
“Are any of us?”
She eyed me. “Your gut might be magical with how often you predict what no one else can. Like with Felipe.”
I shrugged. “Good guesses are coincidences, not magic.”
She pressed her lips together.
“And my current guess is that the weather will be fine tomorrow.” I pushed away the guilt rising in me. Secrets shouldn’t exist between sisters. But my premonitions were an island among mages skilled in the physical arts. I’d be laughed at, scoffed at. I’d feel even crazier than I already did.
At Kelara’s skeptical brow, I bumped her shoulder. “You need a break. Take some time for yourself.”
She finished folding the final gown and sat back. “Fine. Tomorrow afternoon—if it’s sunny.”
I grinned, knowing my niece would struggle to sleep tonight. “Oh, Asha!”
I awoke expecting to find Asha bouncing on her heels. Instead, Mama stood in my doorway, her face blotchy as she pressed a kerchief to her nose.
“Mama?”
“It’s fine, love.” She wiped her face and hurried out of the room.
I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My head felt heavy, the world still blurred as Mama’s sniffling faded. I stumbled to my feet and followed after her.
She stood in Papa’s study, his briefcase, papers, and blacksmithing tools scattered about. His straw mattress was stripped, yet the indent of his final moments still marked its center.
My body tensed. “Mama?”
Her eyes turned to me, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I’m okay, love. I really am.”
I wrapped my arms around her from behind and lay my head on her shoulder. She clutched my forearms, resting her cheek against mine.
“Why are you in here, Mama? You know it upsets you.”
She hesitated. “It’s time we cleaned out this room.”
My shoulders stiffened.
“Asha deserves her own space.”
“Mama…”
She tapped my forearm, and I released her from my hold. She bent and rifled through a stack of parchment. “He kept so much he didn’t need.”
I pressed my lips together.
She tucked the pile of parchment under her arm, now sorting through a stack of hardbacks. “Will you want any of your father’s books?”
Memories flooded my mind, of hours spent reading at his bedside while he lay ill, of studying texts before my shifts at the blacksmith’s, of perusing the bookshop for stories, knowing he may not live to hear their ending.
A lump formed in my throat.
Mama quieted her bustling, pausing to observe me. “We can keep them if you aren’t sure.”
I shook my head. “It’s alright,” I said. “I don’t want them.”
I stared at the tomes that had once meant everything. My chest ached, and I looked away.
“If you’re sure…” she said, trailing off.
“I am.”
I left Mama there in Papa’s room, my expression a mask. My heart couldn’t bear to dwell on what I was leaving behind with a cold finality.
I had the palace to go back to, after all.
And Asha was waiting for me.