Chapter 20
Emmerick
The scent of sod and a hint of something blossoming roused me. Sunlight soaked through a mossy forest. I lay beside a bubbling creek. The idyllic setting cocooned me.
They’d released me from Caym’s grasp. I ran my hands over my chest and then through the stubble on my chin.
The horrid weight of him in my head was gone. Inhaling deeply, I took my first nonpoisonous breath in fifteen years.
On wobbly, tired legs, I walked toward the scent of sweet flowers—a welcoming beckoning. The bustling birdsong in the canopy of pines above eased my worries.
When I left the creek and breached the tree line, I found myself in a familiar plum orchard. Lamoreaux.
Only instead of ruins, a grand estate stood behind the original iron entry arch. My pace quickened, fists clenched at my sides, as I crossed the field.
Elsedora burst from the house and padded away from me, down a grassy hill toward a large stable.
I held my breath. Sources, I forgot how breathtaking she was when I could see all of her, how fox-like and elegant her movement was.
Smeared with dark ash, her light tunic clung to her waist. She wore dark breeches tucked into leather boots. A haphazard braid, nearly undone, draped down to her mid-back.
I ran after her, feeling sluggish and clumsy. “Else!” I shouted. She kept walking toward the barn doors and pushed them open.
Following her into the barn, I called out again. “Elsedora.”
Why couldn’t she hear me? I tried to place my hand on El’s back. It went right through her, but the wind kicked up at her nape, splaying wisps of her braid forward.
She looked over her shoulder.
She saw me.
My heart leaped.
Then I heard the crunch of hay behind me. Lark entered the barn. “Aunty Lora, I’m so sorry…”
I’d been freed from Caym.
But the Sethe curse still held.
I pinched my forearm, frowning when no pain accompanied the bite of my fingertips. Damn it all.
A pony nickered from the far-right stall, and my old mount bobbed his head beside me. Elsedora had promised to take my black draft gelding, Bshar, in for retirement.
Elsedora looked through me at the child. “Apologies are empty without action, Larkspur.”
I’d never gotten the chance to see Elsedora grow into her role as a mentor. She was beautiful with a concern-creased scowl; she loved that girl dearly. She’d forgive her actions. The girl had saved me.
I approached my horse, allowing them space as I tried to pat his muzzle. Still no contact—it all felt like a vivid dream.
Elsedora sighed.
Her presence made this a very good dream.
The boy showed up shortly after. El spent the greater half of the morning berating the children about casting such a risky spell. I wanted so badly to interject.
The boy, whose name I learned was Dritan, promised, “I’ll never come back, I swear it.”
Lark stiffened at his side, shaking her head frantically.
I wanted to squeeze Elsedora’s hand and convince her not to send him away. His cryptic words about his mother… his familiarity. My hunch was impossible—I’d only ever been with two women. One was dead.
El’s lips narrowed into a line before she said, “I’ll be damned if I let you run. You tell your mother that when you’re not in school, you’re to come work more hours at Lamoreaux.”
His mother was alive. Why then would she make him a memorandum? Why would it send him to me?
I wished to ask him so many questions.
“Indentured servitude has been illegal since the Order fell,” Lark argued.
Her aunt held up a hand to silence her. “The position is paid. But I’ll be watching both of you.” At Else’s words and narrowed gaze, Lark’s shoulders shrank.
“And you—no more sneaking around. No more casting spells on your own, no more running out into the night. You could have been hurt, Lark. You could have unleashed ruin on us all.”
I smirked, enjoying this protective side of El.
“Yes, Aunty. Mama and Papa already dragged me over the coals. Trust me. I really just wanted to help you.” Lark stared at the ground, kicking around dirty bits of hay, trying to hide her welling tears.
Elsedora’s composure cracked; her posture slumped and her lips turned down. It crushed me. I’d do anything to never see her look so defeated.
“I know you did—but next time, leave my matters to me. And don’t get your friends involved in your schemes,” she said and nodded toward Dritan. “Breaking into the palace and wielding magic on a King—those are serious crimes.”
Dritan’s face paled. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he defended with wide eyes. Poor thing—I knew exactly how convincing a young Princess could be.
Lark cut in, “I didn’t know we could not wake King Mattock when we unbound Caym. Or that it would break the enchantment on the mirror. I’m so sorry. I’ll help you find a way. I’ll come with you to the tombs.”
My heart clenched.
Elsedora’s face fell further, and at once, I understood.
There would be no more conversations with her, no more feeling the heat rise to my cheeks when she teased me.
Though the amber smoke had lifted, I’d lost her just as I’d begun to win her over.
Elsedora’s expression softened. “When you’re older. For now, you can help by scouring that library of your father’s and keeping your nose safely in a book. Without casting spells unsupervised.”
Lark’s dewy eyes brightened.
“The pony will not groom herself, and the hedges along the fence won’t shear themselves either,” El concluded.
“So… I’m not going to the gallows?” Dritan asked.
El huffed an empty laugh. “You might wish for it when you see the gutters you’re cleaning after you finish the hedges.”
I watched as she shooed them off to their individual duties, then I followed her back to the estate.
When she reached the back veranda, in the cover of thick topiary, she sat on a wooden bench and let her head collapse into her hands on a silent sob.
I knelt before her, helpless and heartsick.
“Oh, wildflower…I really wish I could hold you right now,” I whispered.
Despite my willing her to look at me, she wept alone.