Chapter 28 Saskia
The wind rattles around us, causing the shutters along the side of Lucan’s mother’s house to slap against the brick, as she leads me around to the backyard.
Stretching out in neat rows before us, leaves in all shades of green and purple burst from wooden-looking boxes.
Toward the back, there’s a mini house painted red and white with a ramp leading up to a square opening and walls of wire.
Chickens in a variety of speckled colors peck at the ground, soft clucks echoing into the woods beyond.
So that’s what they sound like.
“I spend most of my time here,” she comments with a wave of her hand, “among my plants and animals.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say. Even in the chilly temperature, her plants are thriving.
Lucan’s mother steps around one of the boxes teeming with what I assume is cabbage and makes her way to what looks like a bucket tied to a string that’s hanging over a circular stone wall.
She turns a crank, and the bucket drops into a hole before she heaves it back up by the rope. The bucket, now filled with water, sloshes as she heaves it over the edge.
“I can help you,” I tell her, rushing forward, my feet grinding into the gravel pathway.
She waves me off and laughs. “I didn’t bring you here to put you to work. Besides—” She winks. “—I may be old, but I’m stronger than you.”
So with a blush, I watch her, wondering why she did bring me here, as she waters her garden.
“These are all my winter veggies,” she explains as the water soaks into the dark soil. “Carrots, cabbage, kale, fava beans. I’ve got to keep the goats away from them.” She laughs. “They’re our only source of milk, but they’ll demolish my garden, so I keep them in a pen behind the chicken coop.”
“It’s beautiful—all the colors,” I say.
Pride lights up her eyes as she steps up to another wide box teeming with yellow flowers. “This here is yellow jasmine, and I’m hoping my camellias bloom soon. They come in as beautiful shades of red and pink and white.”
When the water bucket is empty, she places it down on the gravel path, wipes her hands on her flowing skirt, and asks, “Now, would you like some tea?” then winces. “I guess you don’t drink tea anymore.”
Heat creeps up my neck. Nope, just your son’s blood.
“Anyway,” she rushes on lightheartedly, “come in. I want to show you something.”
Curiosity blooms as I follow her up the porch steps, her long waves of white hair cascading down her back, and into her sitting room.
One wall is covered by shelves with books—so many that I think she may have collected them all from every abandoned house remaining in Veradel.
Dried flowers, I assume from her garden, are pressed into frames and hung up around the room.
And there’s so many blankets and pillows on every seat, that I imagine she reads a book every night, cozy in the firelight from her hearth.
I settle wordlessly next to her on the small floral-patterned sofa. A small, round box sits on the table in front of us. As she stares at it, her eyes well with tears before she quickly blinks them back.
“This is one of the only things I have left from Veradel,” she says softly.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. For what the Guardians did, who they are, what they destroyed, I don’t say.
Five centuries of hatred brewing. Five centuries of staring at that Wall from the outside, just as I’ve been staring at it from the inside. Five centuries of pain that could be avenged in a matter of hours.
I don’t know what else to say, what else to do, except let my actions speak for themselves.
“It isn’t your fault,” Lucan’s mom says simply, patting my leg. Her long, slender fingers curl back into her lap. “Besides, how can I think ill of you when it was your ancestor who saved my life?”
I blink at her. “What?”
Lucan’s mom nods, eyes glazed over as she peers into a memory.
“Everyone remembers it as a war, but it really only lasted one night. When the vampires invaded the Blood Moon Palace, we were having a feast in the dining hall—laughter and music and dancing, all the lanterns in the world lighting up the whole place. There were humans there, too, mingling with the royal family, so many that there was hardly any space to move. I was trying to sneak away with Lucan’s father, to steal a kiss from him in the rose garden. ”
She smiles softly, and I inhale at the picture she paints. So many innocents, not knowing what was about to happen.
“They seemed to appear out of nowhere,” Lucan’s mom continues in a hushed voice.
“We’d heard rumors about vampire attacks, of course, but we’d never actually seen one before.
Until then. Lucan’s father and I had just made it to the rose garden when the screaming began.
” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “We could smell the blood and death and started to rush back into the palace when something stopped us. Or rather, someone.”
Her eyes flit to my face, and her lips lift slightly.
“I can see the resemblance. He had the same dark red hair as you, and similar features, the Thirteenth Guardian. We were so stunned by how beautiful he was that we stopped in our tracks. Both he and Warren tensed, readying for a fight, until the Thirteenth hesitated. ‘You’ll die if you go in there,’ he told us.
‘So go beyond the Wall. Save yourselves.’”
“And you listened to him?” I ask, frowning, trying to imagine anyone with Lucan’s stubborn blood actually obeying an enemy who invaded.
“Of course not,” Lucan’s mother chuckles.
“We told him to go fuck himself, so the Thirteenth Guardian charged us. We ran as other werewolves began to flee into the garden, shouting at us, but then the vampire got Warren by the shoulder… and instead of fighting, threw him over the spikes of the Wall before he did the same to me. We survived the fall only because of our werewolf blood, and by the time we tried to get back inside, the wood was already turning to stone.” She sighs.
“That’s when we met up with the few others who had escaped and gathered in the nearest town to try to form a plan to reclaim our kingdom.
Only, the plans never worked. Over time, the lifespans of the remaining humans who lived in this town passed, and our own numbers dwindled.
Life moved on, as it always does, but our goal remained the same. ”
I twine my fingers together, trying to understand why she’s telling me this.
“The Thirteenth Guardian still invaded your kingdom, though. He wouldn’t have needed to save your life if he’d just… I don’t know. Not endangered it in the first place.”
Lucan’s mom huffs another laugh. “Oh, I know. But he could have killed us right then and there instead of forcing us out—which tells me he always had a kernel of goodness inside him. I didn’t even know he was the same Guardian my husband ended up communicating with through letters until you showed up.
Then, I suspected, based on the resemblance. ”
My mouth falls open incredulously. “You suspected I was a vampire descendant when I first showed up? And you didn’t want to chop my head off upon first sight?”
“I could never in a million years forget his face. And why would I? You’ve already done so much for us, and most of all, my son. That kernel of goodness the Thirteenth Guardian possessed… you’ve nurtured it until it’s grown into something so much better.”
Heat creeps along my cheeks, and I wonder briefly if the actual blush can even make an appearance beneath my skin.
“Oh, but I haven’t done anything,” I insist. “Lucan didn’t need my help. You raised an amazing man, ma’am—I mean, Mrs. Veradel. Did I use that right, your last name?”
She nods, laughs under her breath. “I gave him life, but so did you. Just in a different way. And please, call me Stella.”
Tears well in my eyes, burning the back of my throat, but I look up at the ceiling, studying the cracked paint, and blink them back.
“He’s lucky to have you,” I whisper. “I miss my own mother so much.”
To my surprise, Stella turns to me and gathers me in a maternal hug, the kind I’ve missed and craved for so many years. A knot builds in the back of my throat as she rubs her palm in a soothing circle along my back, rocking me back and forth, and whispers, “What was your favorite thing about her?”
The question surprises me even more, but I’m grateful for it, because it drives me to think about her, my actual mother, rather than the absence of her.
After a few moments of thinking, I say resolutely, “How she loved others. The Guardians chose her partner and forced her to have a baby, so you’d think loving my father and me would have meant she caved.
That she let them control her. But it almost seems like the opposite, actually. ”
I think back to how she let herself bleed for my father over and over, even though she could have just turned him in. How she made up extra lyrics just for me, even though creating such a thing broke all the Cardinal Rules.
“Her love was her own kind of rebellion,” I finish. “I just wish it was still here.”
Stella pulls me back by the shoulders to look me straight in the face, and I can’t miss the sincerity shining from her amber irises that look so much like Lucan’s.
“A mother’s love never ceases, Saskia. It still thrives inside of you, shapes you. And I know, just from knowing you, that she was an amazing woman. She would be proud of all that you have accomplished. How you fell. How you rose.”
She reaches for the box in front of us, placing it on her lap gently.
“Now,” she says, “the only things I have from before the invasion are the dress I was wearing—which hasn’t fit me in longer than I care to admit—and what the few werewolves who escaped managed to gather with them before the Wall closed, like the journals and this…”
Stella slides the top of the box off, revealing two glittering, gem-encrusted pieces of jewelry large enough to slide an arm through.