Chapter Six
Pel
Pel appreciated the grip Tor had on his arm, because it was helping to ground him in a reality that otherwise felt like it had become unmoored. Bav’s question meant it wasn’t just Pel seeing things, but Pel still didn’t know how to wrap his brain around what was right in front of him.
His mother had died when Pel was fourteen. She’d been dead for fourteen years. How could she be standing in front of them right now?
But Tor was standing next to him, still clasping him with that firm grasp, Tama had tried to prepare them for a shock, and Bavil was seeing it, too.
Pel just didn’t understand how it was possible.
“Mother?” he said finally, the same question that Bavil had asked, his voice too high, the question too vulnerable.
But the word had spilled out because it was impossible to keep it inside.
She looked older, like fourteen years had indeed passed. Pel’s memory of her had gotten a bit fuzzy, but Bavil had managed to save one of the portraits for them, before their father had destroyed them all, unable to bear looking at her anymore.
They’d all assumed it was because he was grieving, but a new reason presented itself.
Her formerly dark hair was liberally sprinkled with white, especially around her temples. There were more wrinkles on her face, and it looked a little thinner than he remembered. She was also smaller than he’d expected… but he was both taller and older now, so maybe that was no surprise.
But fundamentally, she was his mother, and the knowledge hit him right at his core.
His mother was standing in front of him, and he hadn’t seen her in over fourteen years because she was dead.
She looked uncertain and a lot like she was trying not to cry. Pel found that he was blinking back similar emotions.
“Hello,” she said, her voice a cracking whisper. “Oh, Bav, Pel, it’s so good to see you!”
Like the words somehow confirmed that she really was their mother, Pel found himself stumbling forward, and then Bav was moving, too.
They were suddenly hugging, too hard and a little bit desperately.
Pel buried his face against her shoulder.
She smelled right. He hadn’t even realized he knew her scent, but now that he was pressed against her, now that she had her arms wrapped around him as he and Bav both clung to her, it felt right.
He’d missed her so very much.
He couldn’t imagine ever letting go of her—what if she disappeared?—only then Tor was there beside him and was giving him a little tug. He stepped back reluctantly, even as he admitted that clinging to his mother forever wasn’t a very practical plan.
He still stared at her hungrily, trying to memorize all of her features anew, like he was worried she was going to be snatched away from him again.
“Let’s sit down,” Tor suggested.
They were getting rained on, Pel realized belatedly.
He’d lost track of everything that wasn’t his mother, but he could feel the wetness beginning to soak into his hair and dampen his tunic.
Pel had the feeling this was going to be a difficult explanation, and getting soaked while it happened wasn’t going to help.
They settled around the fire in the cave. It wasn’t built up too much, since the day was warm, but the flames still helped with the damp.
Pel and Bav sat on either side of their mother, with Tama on the other side of Bav and Tor next to Pel.
Tor immediately offered his hand, and Pel gratefully entwined their fingers, clasping a little too tightly, but that kept his hands from shaking.
Part of him still felt like he might wake up at any moment and discover this was a dream.
Cavun was guarding the entrance to the cave, broad shoulders blocking much of the space, but Beluna was nowhere in sight. Pel assumed she was keeping an eye on the cave from somewhere, just in case they were about to be ambushed. Pel was glad someone was thinking clearly, because he he wasn’t.
Their mother had started to cry, and Pel reached out his free hand to grab one of hers. Bav did the same on her other side, and they just sat there for a long moment, clutching at one another. Pel had to blink his eyes a lot, and there was a lump in his throat.
“How are you alive?” Bav demanded.
Pel was grateful, because he didn’t feel like he could formulate coherent sentences yet. There was just one word echoing round and round his brain.
Mother, mother, mother, mother.
She sucked in a breath, and it sounded unsteady as she exhaled.
“I’m so sorry that I had to leave you.” Then she made a face and corrected stiffly, “That I chose to leave you. Living with your father wasn’t—I had to get out.
He said he’d kill all of us if I tried to take you.
Even if I waited until he didn’t expect it…
I didn’t want to start the very war that I was afraid he would start.
I tried for as long as I could, I swear I did, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. ”
She looked wrecked, and there was part of Pel that wanted to bundle her up and assure her that everything was all right and that of course he understood.
There was also part of him that was still a scared and lonely little boy who’d been abandoned by his mother.
It was Bav who responded once again, and Pel was relieved he didn’t have to try to articulate any of what he was feeling.
Bav was stiff with anger, his hands clenched into fists in his lap now. “Pel was only fourteen. Lara was seven. They were children, and you left them to Father’s influence!”
She flinched, and Pel felt weirdly torn between yelling at his brother for hurting her and feeling vindictively grateful. He’d hurt for years and years. He’d grieved for a mother who’d died—but it turned out she’d just chosen to abandon him and his siblings.
He was sure she was right. Forex would never have let her take them. Pel saw that every day in the way that he wanted Pel to be present even though he wanted him out of his sight. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d freed herself and left them behind.
“It hasn’t been easy, living with him,” Bav continued, expression stern, tone implacable. “He hasn’t been a great father to any of us, but he’s been the worst to Pel. You could have helped with that.”
She turned to look at Pel fully, and part of him wanted to hide.
He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, and he didn’t want to reveal it to her.
They were still holding hands, because Pel hadn’t recoiled when Bav had.
She squeezed his fingers, and Pel became aware that he was clutching Tor’s hand so hard it had to hurt.
But Tor had only brought his other hand up to rest it over Pel’s hand, a soothing weight.
The reminder that Tor had chosen Pel for real even when it ruined his terrible plan gave him the courage to meet his mother’s eyes. They were a lighter brown than Bav and Lara’s, closer to Pel’s in color. They suited her, somehow, where they looked bland on Pel.
(Tor liked his eyes, he reminded himself. Tor looked at him and saw him, and Pel needed to see himself.)
“I’m so sorry, Pel,” she told him. “I know your father’s opinion when it comes to magic.
My influence over him had been waning for years, and while I would have tried to be supportive, I know I couldn’t have changed his mind.
Your father was remarkably stubborn. When I told him I was leaving, he threatened to sever the bond.
He thought it would stop me. I couldn’t bear to stay, so I renounced my Fealty to him and left anyway, and despite what it could do to both of us, he broke the bond.
He said he hoped that it would kill me. It nearly did. ”
“Him, too,” Bav said, voice tight. “He was in bed for weeks. We knew it was the bond breaking, but we thought it was grief when he started to drink even more, when he got rid of all your portraits, when he didn’t want to talk about you.
We couldn’t even bring up your name. We had to whisper about it in private. That’s no way for a child to live.”
“I agree.” Pel’s mother sucked in a breath, and her shoulders straightened a little.
“But I’m not actually responsible for your father’s behavior and actions.
I’m only responsible for my own. I understand that you may never forgive me for going, but I needed to protect myself, too.
” Her eyes flickered closed and then opened again.
“He got so angry when he was drinking. He was always at his worst behind closed doors.”
Pel drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Could he understand that? If he’d had somewhere else to go, would he have gone?
Even if it meant leaving Bav and Lara behind?
If he’d had a chance to be safe and to feel loved and protected?
Pel hoped he would have stuck with his siblings…
but he would have been awfully tempted. Who was to say what choice he would have made if it had actually been in front of him?
He knew what he’d experienced as a child, but he didn’t know what being married to his father was like.
When he thought back to those days, he didn’t remember it being so terrible.
But was that just because his mother had shielded him from the worst of it?
Was it because his father had always treated his wife differently than his children?
Some choices were almost impossible to make. Pel loved Tor enough to accidentally bond with him, but in a moment of hurt and upset, he’d turned his back on him. Yes, he’d gone back, but it was a reminder that emotions weren’t logical and sometimes there were no good choices.
Even if he couldn’t totally forgive, maybe he could understand.