Chapter 23 The Heart Seldom Yields
The Heart Seldom Yields
Aurora was feeling better, but as soon as her mother heard what had happened with Farren, she insisted on coming to the castle.
The Starmaker accompanied her through the dark woods, requiring him to wake much earlier than normal, and though Aurora knew he was silently cursing the intolerable hour, he did not complain.
It made her feel cared for, ridiculous as it was—such an overwrought reaction to a mundane occurrence.
Aurora had told her mother it wasn’t necessary for her to come, and yet when she burst through the door and rushed toward the bed, Aurora’s eyes filled with tears.
“Hi, Mama,” she said, swallowing hard.
“I got here as soon as I could.” Her mother ran a palm over her hair and studied her face, rested the back of her hand against Aurora’s skin. She nodded, seemingly satisfied that Aurora was not in imminent danger. “Tell me what happened.”
Aurora had written to her family about the fever and the cave, but now that her mother was in front of her, sitting beside her on her bed, she told her every detail.
She didn’t want her family to hate Farren, but it wasn’t her responsibility to lie for him, and she didn’t hold back.
It was therapeutic in a way she wasn’t expecting, and she realized how much she’d missed being able to talk with her mother about what was going on in her life.
“I can’t believe Farren did such a thing,” Mama said, her hand wrapped tightly around Aurora’s. “You could have died in that cave.” It had been a long time since Aurora had seen her mother so upset, and she had almost forgotten that Mama had fire inside her along with her usual softness.
“I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”
“Farren is the one who should be glad; the Starmaker could hardly hide his fury while answering my questions on the journey. He was scowling the whole way here.”
“That’s just his face,” Aurora said, shifting on the bed, but her mother shook her head.
“He has grown to care for you, darling. Surely you must see that.”
Aurora wasn’t sure how to answer. It was true that there had been a shift in their relationship, and the Starmaker wasn’t as cold as he had once been, but he still kept her at a distance no matter how hard Aurora tried to get closer.
She closed her eyes against the memory of their kiss, the lingering desire inside her that she couldn’t forget. She wanted more of him.
No, that wasn’t quite right.
She wanted all of him, could feel in the depths of her soul that she wanted an epic love after all. It was a devastating realization, and Aurora was shocked when her vision once again blurred.
“What is it?” Mama asked, wiping Aurora’s cheek.
Aurora paused, sucked in a breath. “I think I care for him a great deal.” She said the words so quietly that her mother had to lean in to hear them, and then a sob broke free from Aurora’s throat.
“Oh, my darling,” Mama said, pulling Aurora in close, wrapping her arms around her. “I know you do.”
“But I cannot,” Aurora said, taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I don’t want to go through what you did with Papa.”
It was then that Aurora’s mother pulled away and looked her in the eyes, radiating a fierceness that Aurora seldom saw. “Don’t you say that. Don’t ever say that.”
“Why not? It almost killed you, losing him.”
Mama’s eyes were wet now, too, and the handkerchief on the side table sprung into action, darting through the air and wiping her cheeks first before doing the same to Aurora.
“Not now,” Aurora whispered gently, and the handkerchief drifted back to the table with far less enthusiasm than it had taken off with.
Mama smiled at the gold cloth before the intensity in her expression returned.
“It was the worst time of my life,” she said.
“I wish I could have been more present for you and your siblings. I wish so badly that I could have been there in the way you needed me to be, and I will regret that always. But one thing I don’t regret, could never regret, is loving your father.
” She paused, taking both of Aurora’s hands.
“And if I had to do it over again, I would love him again, choose him again, because our life together was worth it. I got to experience an exceptional love, and the pain I felt when he died and continue to feel today doesn’t erase that—it reflects it. ”
There was something breaking inside of Aurora, as if all of her organs and bones were rearranging themselves to make space for what her mother was saying.
Aurora had been sure that it wasn’t worth it, loving someone like that, but her mother spoke with such conviction that it took Aurora’s breath away.
She had lived through the worst possible outcome, and yet she still believed it was worth it.
Aurora knew then that the Sun would say the same, that falling in love with a human had been worth the pain. She could feel it in the magic in her blood, and she wondered how she had gotten it so wrong.
“I miss Papa,” Aurora said, looking at her mother through her tears. “I miss him so much.”
“I know you do, and he would be so proud of the person you’ve become.” Her mother tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It would pain him to think you were closing yourself off from love because of him. There was no one in all of Reverie more romantic than your father.”
“The Sun might have something to say about that,” Aurora said, a small laugh escaping her lips.
“Perhaps she would,” Mama said. “But I believe it all the same.” She squeezed Aurora’s hands.
“Please do not be so fearful of what may come that you fail to enjoy the present. I know it may seem like your future is inevitable, but it is up to you to decide how it will look—how full your life will be, how much love it will hold, how much happiness and laughter and joy. Please do not deny yourself those things because you are afraid of the pain they may leave in their absence. Life includes pain, my darling, and you cannot escape or outwit it.”
“I’m learning that,” Aurora said.
“Yes, it seems that you are,” her mother agreed.
They were quiet for several minutes, long enough for Aurora’s breathing to return to normal and her eyes to dry.
There was still a small voice whispering in the back of her mind, telling her that she wasn’t as strong as her mother or the Sun, warning her that she couldn’t bear that kind of loss.
But if becoming the Starmaker Rising had taught her anything, it was that she was stronger than she thought.
Strong enough, perhaps, to love with abandon.
* * *
At some point, Aurora fell asleep, and she woke to the scent of her mother’s lentil stew.
It was the same stew she made whenever anyone in their home was ill, and Aurora would recognize the smell anywhere.
Between that and her childhood quilt that was tucked tightly around her, she was almost convinced she was back at the cottage.
Her eyes fluttered open, and her mother was sitting on the edge of the bed with a tray that held a large bowl of soup and some fresh bread.
“The cook offered to make something for you, but I said that would not do.” Mama smiled, waiting for Aurora to sit before setting the tray on her lap.
“Thank you,” Aurora said, eagerly taking a spoonful. As she’d gotten better, her appetite had grown, and she had to pace herself so as not to devour her meal all at once.
“I will write down the recipe for the cook so that you may have it whenever you are feeling unwell.”
Aurora didn’t think her mother was referring to times far in the future, long after she was gone, but her words still hit Aurora in her chest, and she took a deep breath to dull the ache.
“I would like that.”
“Your sister was so upset that she couldn’t come with me, and both she and Aspen send their love. I wrote to them while you slept, and they will be glad to know you’re improving.”
“And Evander and Samuel? Are they well?”
Mama paused. “I haven’t seen your brother since the morning you left for the castle, but Aspen assures me he and Samuel are both doing well.”
Aurora heard the hurt in her mother’s voice, and she regretted the question. “I’m sorry, Mama. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It is not your responsibility to shield me from the consequences of my own actions.” Mama said it with a sad smile, casting her eyes downward.
“Evander had just lost his father—you all had—and I couldn’t support him through it.
I couldn’t support any of you. That is my own fault and something I will have to live with for the rest of my life. ”
“You did your best,” Aurora said, grabbing her mother’s hand.
“It wasn’t enough.” Her voice shook, and she took a deep breath and blotted her eyes. “I will keep trying to be there for him now, though. And perhaps one day he will let me.”
Aurora had never before had such an open conversation with her mother, and she was struck by how much her mother had been carrying.
How aware she was of the shift in their family after Papa had died, and how she blamed herself for the rift between her and Evander.
The clarity with which she spoke moved Aurora greatly, and she thought her mother even stronger now than she had before.
“The Starmaker checked on you several times while you slept,” her mother said, changing the subject. “He came back to the castle as soon as he’d pulled the light.”
Aurora tried not to react to her mother’s words, but there was a warmth that bloomed inside her, spreading outward. “He did?”
Her mother nodded, smoothing back a stray piece of white hair that had caught on Aurora’s eyelashes. “I do not think you are the only one who cares a great deal.”
Aurora looked away, out the balcony doors to the snow-covered trees in the distance. “He does not want to care for me.”
“And nor do you for him, but the heart seldom yields to what one’s mind desires.”
“Yes,” Aurora said, “a rather aggravating trait.” It was something the Starmaker would have said, and she almost laughed.
“Indeed it is,” her mother agreed, standing and picking up the tray. “Rest now. There is much to come.”
Aurora wasn’t sure what her mother meant, but she lay back down and her eyelids got heavy and she didn’t get the chance to ask.
As she slept, she dreamt of the Starmaker. He held both of her hands, his beautiful face leaning into hers, his lips just barely brushing her own. They stood on the top of the highest peak, beneath a black velvet sky drenched in starlight. She smiled as his mouth met hers.
Then he was torn away, hands slipping from her grasp, sucked into the endless night while Aurora screamed after him.