Chapter 3 #2
And yet, later, when I was older, he would choose not to tell me. Why?
“If you’re here to hurt her, you will regret it,” he said, his cold, harsh tone a shock.
“I will never hurt her,” I promised, meaning it.
“I love her. You love her too, and soon, the two of you will marry.” Screw keeping secrets with him.
“You’ll help raise her baby. A daughter you’ll name Moriah,” I flattened my hands on the table and stared at him, stern.
“Stop smoking. Like, immediately. And do not, under any circumstances, start again. If you do, you’ll develop lung cancer and devastate your sweet Rye. ”
His eyes narrowed as they searched mine, but he gave no other reaction, leaving his thoughts shrouded. “Anything else I should know?”
“In eight years,” I said, white-knuckling the table’s edge, “your beloved Sandy will–”
“Found it,” my mother called, cutting off my warning about the terrible day we returned to an empty house and found her blood splattered on the walls.
I wanted to tell her, too, but this still wasn’t the moment for a big confession. The woman struggled to lower herself into the chair. Stress her more than she could handle? No.
I’d get my dad alone and make him believe me. Together, we could plan the best way to approach her.
“Though I was without my memory,” she said, “I did have this journal and a backpack you told me to bring and give back to you.” She handed over a notebook bound in rich, dark brown leather, with an elaborate metal pen attached by a cloth hook.
“My apologies, but the pack is too heavy for me to lift.”
“I’ll get it to her, don’t worry,” Daddy assured us both.
“Thank you,” I rasped, unable to pull my gaze from the journal.
“My husband—” Mom sniffled. “Apologies,” she repeated. “I can’t seem to stop crying these days.” She swiped at her cheeks. “Ahav penned the journal for our child to pass on our traditions, struggles, and prophecies. But he did ask me to lend it to you, at the right occasion.”
I didn’t open the treasure right away. Embossed into the cover with delicate filigree was an elaborate monogram of the letters EO. The royal initials. Ori’Emet, my true last name.
Trying to remember how to breathe, I opened the book to the middle, where the thick, creamy parchment was split by a thin leather strap. The writing was illegible and yet, three words jumped out, clear as crystal, inspiring the same reaction as Elowen’s name.
Ember of Everlight
Perhaps the two were connected?
“Thank you,” I repeated. With a little study, I could decipher the other words.
For now, I gently closed the book and clutched it to my chest. “I’ll read every word—” savor every word “—then figure out my next move and give it back to you.” I wondered why she and Daddy never mentioned the journal during my childhood.
“After the baby comes—which will be in a week or so,” Mom said, shifting to find a comfortable position, “and we’re both stable, Emma will summon Queen Elowen, who will open a waterway for us.”
“You cannot take the baby into a war zone,” my dad said, gentle, so gentle. “Not when the opposing force is an army of flying monsters.”
She won’t. Lips still zipped.
She patted his hand but didn’t back down. “Do you possess the ability to open a waterway, Oracle?”
“I don’t even know what a waterway is,” I admitted.
Mom scrunched her face again. “How is that possible? You are a water maiden.”
I blinked. “What makes you think I’m a water maiden?”
“Only water maidens bear oracles.” She spread her arms. “Plus, you blurted out I’m the oracle, believe me, at our first meeting.”
Maybe I had. But I wouldn’t lie to her now. Not for any reason.
“You’ll love Elowen,” Mom said. “I do.”
Great. I was jealous of the queen.
My stomach grumbled, breaking the mounting tension. Mom giggled behind her hand, and my dad smothered a laugh.
“Please, eat your fill,” she said.
Blushing but grateful, I reached for a piece of toast and covered it with the fruity jam.
Mom shifted in her seat again and rubbed her lower back. My dad urged her forward and took over, massaging the same spot. Her eyes closed, and she moaned, savoring the touch.
As strange as it was, I felt more at home right here, right now than I had in ages.
Maybe that was the reason a promise burst from me.
“I’ll go back for you.” Determination poured from an endless stream.
“I’ll end the monstra threat, so you can return safely.
Jasher will help me help you. So. About that elixir… ”
She gave a violent shake of her head.
I gripped the table edge. “I trust him. So does Emma. She helped raise him. You trust her, right?”
“But he’ll kill us all if he’s freed,” Mom whispered, terror coating her words. “And I’m not staying here while you fight Ian. The kingdom needs me.”
I heard the firm, stubborn note in her tone again.
Rather than naysay her, I steered us to the problem at hand.
“Jasher won’t harm anyone. He’s a good man.
The best. The only reason I’m still alive.
He knows Ian’s greatest weaknesses, and he’ll help me defeat the big, bad and—if we travel further back in time, as I suspect we will—we can save Ahav. ”
Her shoulders popped into a square, her spine suddenly ramrod straight. “Very well.” She nodded. “For Ahav.”