Chapter Twenty-Four
Looking up from the note Matea had given me, I stared at the estate before me.
It sat on the western outskirts of Cairnyl, a sprawling estate that rested at the top of a small, lush hill. Tall trees speckled the area, and tall hedges along with metal fences covered in vines edged the property, boxing off the Ashfords’ little sector of the world.
I had flown most of the way there, rushing to make it on time, but now as I walked through the metal gates that I could only assume had been left open for me—I couldn’t help but slow my pace.
The walkway up to the front door was made of large flat stones, and every couple of paces the path was framed on both sides by long, raised flower beds.
Each small bed consisted of a different type of flower, as though whoever planted—or grew—them were displaying them like trophies.
Some flowers I even recognized as herbal, not solely decorative.
Yes, I thought, whoever looks after these knows how to love them accordingly.
The house itself was a structure made of mostly wood on the outside, which had been stained a pale brown—while the accents were made up of a pale marble that had a copper hue mixed into it.
As I got a few wingspans from the front door, though, my gait stopped completely. I knew I was in the right place—I’d followed the scribbled note Matea had left me exactly; no, I wasn’t anxious about being in the wrong place. It was much larger than that.
Tonight would be the first time I’d spent genuine, one-on-one time with my mother’s parents. They’d likely have questions I wasn’t sure I knew how to answer. For me, tonight was a step toward getting to know them. But what was it to them?
My hands shook slightly as I stuffed the note back into my dress pocket, right next to my gloves. Though I tried to convince myself that everything would be fine, my hands continued to shake, my mind whirling with everything that could go wrong tonight.
Just as I was beginning to consider turning tail and running, I felt a weight on the earth behind me that hadn’t been there before.
I spun around, already reaching for the dagger resting on my hip, when I realized it was just Matea.
“Stars, you nearly scared the life out of me!” I exclaimed, dropping my hand back to my side. Matea snickered lightly in response, obviously proud of herself for having snuck up on me.
“You know you can come inside, right?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm revealing itself through the tone of her voice.
“I was just about to knock,” I stated, crossing my arms over my chest.
She cocked an eyebrow at me. “You’ve been standing out here for so long, I thought you’d forgotten how.”
“I was building up the courage! And really, I was just about to!” I said, lying straight through my teeth.
“Right… That’s why you looked like you were about to turn around, right? Stars, our queen can face down our enemies head on, but don’t ask her to visit for dinner!” Matea mocked, placing a hand on her hip.
I gasped at her audacity, my eyes widening. “Watch this.” I turned on my heel and marched right up to the front door of the house. On instinct, I knocked the way all members of the Valwain do, then took a step back as I waited for somebody to answer.
My heart skipped a beat as the door swung open, expecting to come face to face with either Billie or Geoff—only for my eyes to land on Matea.
“What—” I looked over my shoulder to where she’d been just a moment before, seeing only empty space there now.
Realizing what she’d done—managing to keep me from running away from what I had found scary—I turned back to face her.
“You are a thorn in my side,” I said quietly, lightly punching her shoulder.
“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about.” She grinned innocently, though her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Come on inside! Dinner is nearly ready. We’ve been working on it for hours.”
“You all made it yourself?” I asked, surprised but also honored that they’d go through so much effort for me.
“Indeed. We dismissed the estate staff for today. I imagine Nan and Pops wanted some privacy—just the four of us.”
Taking a deep breath, I stepped past Matea into the foyer and listened as she shut the door behind us.
The small heels of my boots clicked against the marble floor—which was the same color and pattern as the marble pillars outside—as I walked further into the foyer.
The lighting inside was warm like the sun, and the smell of baked goods overtook my senses in a way that made the entire space feel cozy and welcoming.
There was a small chandelier overhead that had the golden light sprinkling throughout the entryway, and I realized then that at least one fae in the house must be a fire wielder, as I doubted they regularly climbed up to light each wick of the chandelier by hand.
“Matea, dear, was that the door I heard?”
Looking up in the direction of the voice I’d just heard, I watched as Lady Billie rounded the corner of the hallway to the left of us.
She still had on an apron, which was spotted with flour in random places.
Her hair, which was mostly the same shade as Matea’s—aside from her gray roots—rested atop her head in a neatly braided bun.
At the sight of me, she gave pause, her gaze lingering on my face, as if she could see the remains of her daughter there.
Seeming to suddenly remember herself, she bowed and said, “My queen. Thank you for honoring us by coming tonight.”
I forced myself to not outwardly cringe as she did so. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to that, but if I was hoping to start building something more meaningful here, then we had to start with that.
Crossing the space between us, I gently rested my hands on Lady Billie’s shoulders and guided her up from her bow.
“Please,” I said softly, “call me Aviva. We do share blood, after all. There is more to me than simply being your queen.”
When her eyes met mine, I could see her searching. Whether she was searching for her lost daughter, or simply wondering if I was attempting to trick her, I wasn’t sure, but I held her gaze unwaveringly.
After a few heartbeats, she let out a heavy breath. Her green eyes—the same shade I remembered Mother having—still peered into my mismatched ones.
“I feel her in you,” Lady Billie said, her voice shaking slightly. “The same way I feel her in my Matea. Despite recent events and discoveries, she lives on in you two.”
When she mentioned Matea’s name, her gaze slid to my half-sister, her expression softening tenfold.
I smiled gently as she looked towards me again, then reassured her, “She lives on in you, too. I see her in every piece of you. Despite what happens from here on, it doesn’t change the past. It doesn’t change that I’m deeply sorry for the pain you’ve endured.”
Lady Billie’s eyes began to water, but she lightly shook her head before any tears could fall. “Goodness me, we haven’t even made it past the entryway and I’m already emotional,” she laughed softly.
“I told you that you wouldn’t last longer than halfway through dinner!” Matea chimed in, coming to stand beside us. Lady Billie lightly nudged her and playfully glared at her granddaughter, but the smile on her face remained.
“Right this way, my qu—Aviva. We’ll be having dinner in the private dining room this evening.” Lady Billie led the way as she began walking down the corridor she’d come from, leaving Matea and me to follow.
As we walked leisurely toward the dining room, Lady Billie rattled off different dishes they’d spent the day preparing. They ranged from venison, to fruit I hadn’t even heard of before, to a dessert croissant that Lady Billie swore tasted like it was sent from the Stars themselves.
As we stepped foot into the private room, the first thing my eyes were drawn to was the numerous dishes that spanned the middle of the round table.
There was everything Lady Billie had listed and more—platters of food in nearly every color, the aroma of it all causing my mouth to water.
Above the table, hanging in the center of the space, was another chandelier, like the one in the foyer, but on a smaller scale.
It, too, had already been lit, making me endlessly curious who there could fire wield—and what else they could control.
It wasn’t until I turned toward the small fireplace on the far-left wall that I noticed the painting that hung above the fire.
There hung the largest, most detailed portrait of Mother I’d ever seen.
Her skin was tanner than I remembered, and there was a glimmer in her eye that I’d never seen before, but it was most definitely her. Her silky brown hair, the green of her eyes, the heart shape of her face—it was all her.
Back in the North, the only portraits I’d been able to find of Mother—which were already difficult to come by—had all been painted in shades of gray. No color had graced the canvas, which I assumed helped Father hide the fact that she was Southern for as long as he did.
“I… probably should’ve mentioned that was in here,” Matea said, her tone apologetic.
I shook my head slightly, breaking out of the haze I’d found myself in.
Lady Billie, realizing what I’d been staring at, gasped softly. “I wasn’t thinking. You have my deepest apologies, my queen.” She hung her head.
“No, no, you misunderstand,” I said, stepping farther into the room, towards the two females before me. “I haven’t seen a portrait of my mother in full color, well, ever. Father ensured they were all in gray-scale, likely to help hide her origins, if I had to guess. I just… was surprised, is all.”
Matea and her grandmother shared a skeptical glance, but before they could respond, I added, “And it’s just Aviva.”
At that, Lady Billie smiled slightly and nodded. “Aviva it is.”