CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
When I returned to my chamber, my steps slowed at the sight of a note left on my desk, written on royal parchment.
I came to find you but you were gone. I’ll write to you. I’m sorry.
A pang twisted within me. To be so close again, to feel that pulsing energy between us, sent longing through my bones.
And yet…
I couldn’t get over the ache of being rejected when I’d finally been brave, finally decided to pursue what I wanted.
I crumbled the note and threw it on the floor. My feet pressed it flatter as I dropped on to my bed, my head in my hands.
My heart lodged painfully in my throat.
As the tree branches began to thin with leaves that turned brown beneath our feet, a chill in the air signalled change.
The palace was emptier. With Prince Thomas at university and Prince Stephen forced into the countryside, the once overwhelming changes that left me, Anna, and Drea swamped now gave us an abundance of free time.
I skipped my visits home, unable to look into Mama’s eyes and explain my change of heart toward David. I wrote letters when I could, hoping Asha could forgive my cowardly absence.
I stopped walking by the pond. The ache was too much.
I only saw David once. I’d been bustling up a corridor with a tray of tea for Prince Leon, only to find him walking toward me. His steps faltered for the smallest beat. I stopped abruptly, a footman swerving around me at the last second.
David’s gaze was pain itself. His eyes wandered down my figure and back up to my face, full of longing. I had to look away from it. When I glanced up again, he was gone.
Looming closer was the deadline of when I would finally terminate my position. I had debated postponing it, telling Mrs. Calloway I’d changed my mind about leaving, but I couldn’t.
I had learned after all this time that following my heart often didn’t make sense. But I never regretted it when I did.
And it was true. As much as sorrow flickered with each reminder of David’s heartbreak, I felt peace at the promise of my newfound freedom.
And although rejection still stung like an open wound, I didn’t regret kissing the mage prince for a second.
Not when it had been one of the loveliest, most liberating moments of my life.
I wandered down the servants’ wing, my outstretched finger leaving a trail of mist behind just for the fun of it. It was a skill I’d finally mastered over the past month. And despite my poor fire skills growing up, I’d even been able to conjure sparks in the smoke, like an indoor lightning storm.
I knocked on Mrs. Calloway’s door, and she opened it with a polite smile.
“You’re leaving,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Come in.”
I sat in the chair before her desk like I’d done only a few months before. So much had changed in the time since. She rifled through a drawer, pulling out a large pouch that jingled.
I furrowed my brow. “I’ve already had my last paycheck.”
She gave me a meaningful look. “After several lively debates, the butler and I made the decision to split the wages for the extra work taken on between you and Anna.”
I raised my brows. “Truly?”
“We divvied up Ella’s intended pay in her absence, so it should be about half of five months’ wages.” She handed over the pouch, my hand bobbing beneath the bonus’s weight.
“Mrs. Calloway—”
She lifted my hand. “It’s the least I could do. Think of it as my contribution to your bright future.” She gave me a warm smile.
“Thank you.”
She nodded, her eyes hardening slightly. “That is all. Now run along, Lyranore.”
“Yes ma’am.” I got to my feet, my mind racing with thoughts about what I could possibly do with so much money…
I sent the pouch hovering above my palm, air rushing beneath the sack that tickled my skin. It rose higher, reminding me of my water pillar on that cold, dark night, anger flashing in my eyes as it towered over me.
The pouch dropped into my hand, my fingers wrapping around it tightly.
And I knew exactly how I wanted to spend my newfound wealth.
It didn’t take long to pack my belongings and bid adieu to my friends at the palace. I gave Anna in particular a big hug, wishing her the best and promising to meet her in the city on her days off.
It also didn’t take long for dread to build in my stomach as snow crunched beneath my feet on the way home. I knew the second I stepped through the door, I would have to answer for my absence, my cruelty.
Instead, I was met with an embrace.
Mama’s arms wrapped tightly around me as I stood in the doorway, my bindle still hanging from my hands.
“Why didn’t you come home, baby?” she whispered, her breath tickling my neck.
I lifted my hands to her back, my arms stiff with worry. “I didn’t want to disappoint you and Asha. I didn’t want…” I took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to admit I still wasn’t ready to settle down. Not in this house, not with all these memories.”
She pulled back, her eyes scanning mine. “How could I be disappointed in you? You’re my daughter.”
My eyes prickled. “I’m unmarried, Mama. I’ve no plans for children. And now I have no job.”
She pressed her lips together. “You’re kind. Resourceful. Honest. The details fall away in light of who you are, Lyrie. That ambition, that spark inside of you, mattered more to me and your Papa than circumstance. That spark shapes your circumstance.”
I let out a breath. “You were so excited…”
“Because I thought that’s what you wanted. If I’d known you weren’t in love with David, I would have kicked him out of my house.”
I laughed, a tear slipping down my cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
She reached up, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Be sorry you weren’t honest with yourself, dear. Because lying to yourself is the worst punishment of all.”
I swallowed, nodding.
“Now come inside,” she said. “Come see what I’ve done with your Papa’s room.”
I followed her further into the house, faltering at the sight of Kelara sitting at the kitchen table. She stared at me, her hair long and tangled, her face like stone.
I stepped closer. “You received my letter about Felipe?”
“Yes.” Her voice pulsed like a wound. “You didn’t come.”
“I couldn’t.”
Her eyes glinted in the morning light. “I knew you and David wouldn’t last.”
“Yes,” I said softly.
“And you knew Felipe and I wouldn’t make it.”
I didn’t reply.
She stood up slowly, stretching her shoulders out, then stumbled over to me. She wrapped me in her arms. “Perhaps we should listen to one another more often. A sister always knows.” Her body trembled in my embrace. “I was such a fool.”
“You weren’t the fool. Felipe was. It’s not your fault he took advantage of you and your sweetness.”
Muffled sobs wracked her body as I did my best to hold my sister together.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come home, Kelara. You deserved that. It was cowardly.”
Kelara’s tears dripped onto my neck, and I pulled her closer.
I held her until her sobs settled, until only rogue sniffles remained.
“It was time for me to learn to take care of myself,” she said, pulling back. “And I had Mama, and Asha.” Her palms smeared wet, pink marks across her face. “It’s not your responsibility to make sure I’m okay. I’m your older sister.”
“It’s a privilege to help you when you’re hurting,” I said. “But it was my turn to hurt.”
Searching my eyes, she paused. “Was there someone else? Someone other than David?”
I blinked back tears again. I hated crying.
“A sister always knows,” I said, my heart sending an ache through my entire body. We traded painful smiles.
“Mama’s waiting for you,” she said, pulling away. “You’ll have to tell me all about it later.”
“I will,” I promised, giving her hand a squeeze.
Mama waited for me down the hall, her own eyes watery from overhearing our conversation. I nodded to her, and followed her into Papa’s room.
I gasped at the sight.
The air was fresher, lighter, no longer the stale and dusty musk I was used to.
His bookshelves had been moved to the wall.
Each section was shoved full of old tomes, dog-eared and annotated from years of intensive reading.
His bed was gone, and with it, my heart ached, fearing his ghost would be, too.
But it wasn’t—it was in the smell of ink and sawdust that lingered, in the woodstain from the brand new desk in the corner, in the way the light shone against the singe marks on the floor, made when he was a mere boy in this very house.
“I thought you and Kelara might share it.”
“Share?” I looked over and saw Kelara in the doorway, watching us through her red-rimmed eyes. Asha’s little feet pattered down the hall. She peered at me from behind her mother’s legs.
“I’m starting a bookshop,” Kelara said. “In Papa’s memory.”
My eyes widened. “Oh?”
She beamed. “You’re not the only one who had to read to him, you know. I found I enjoyed it. And his old friends from the pub and the local mage council expressed interest. They offered to help me find a space.”
I swallowed. “That’s… very brave, Kelara.”
“I know.” Her eyes glinted with the same ambition I saw in my own reflection. “Maybe it won’t work, but I want to try. I want to do something for myself.”
“I’m proud of you,” I said, wrapping an arm around her once more. My gaze wandered over the titles on the shelves. “I thought you were going to get rid of all these, Mama.”
“Well, after I pulled out his journal for you, I also tucked away some for myself, for Kelara, and eventually… none left the house.”
I laughed. “So I see.”
“But ever since you performed that water magic at dinner, I’ve been scavenging more textbooks for you. I’ve asked around, and Master Carter’s expressed interest in tutoring you for a reduced price, since he’s been a customer of mine for so long.”
“I suppose he wants a discount on potion ingredients?”
She smiled. “Herbalists are a mage’s best friend.”
We chuckled together, and I let my fingers run along the spines Papa had left behind, considered important enough to keep and pass on.
Although his body was in the ground, his spirit lingered here, in our memories and in our hearts as we reminisced about his impact on our lives, his genes in our appearances, his knowledge in our minds.
And I knew: he would be proud of us all indeed.