Epilogue: A Mother's Hopeful Swansong
Roisin was out again, goofing off. That would be fine, but it was her night to take care of Asha and Sage so I could have a night off. Mrs. Reed was supposed to have reminded when she finished work, but that clearly didn't accomplish much, given her absence. I still hadn't settled on a gift for her birthsun, and that was closing a bit too fast for my liking.
"Delia, relax," Davian said as I checked out the window for the twelfth time since I started cooking supper. "We can always make her swap nights with us and go out tomorrow." He was a good husband, like no other.
Great sister, good husband, excellent children, happy life. I had it all. What more could I want?
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. Davian moved to get it, setting his book down on the table beside his seat. I stayed by the window watching for anything, any movement that would indicate my sister was at last being responsible.
As Davian spoke to whomever it was, I was drawn into a memory of when Ma and Da were still around. Before Roisin was born. One of the last happy moments before Ma was taken.
"Ma," I whispered softly as we sat beside each other, "tell me the story of you and Da." It always made me smile to hear the story. She was with child, carrying a little sister for me.
Humouring me was one of her favourite pastimes those suns. She told me stories to make certain I wouldn't stress over something going awry with Davian. We'd come a long time since then.
"Oh but Delia-bug," she used the nickname every time I asked. "You've heard the tale a hundred thousand times by now. Sure you've got some other joy I could bring."
"I must know the story, Ma. Back and front," I insisted. It was a ritual for us. "For how will I tell my own little loves the greatest love story of all time if I don't recall every syllable."
"Very well," she acquiesced, of course. "It starts many many moons ago in a city called Blue Stone."
"No no. Skip that part. A Lady dressed in black and white shows up and tells you your love awaits, and you leave. Skip to the next part."
"Okay," she laughed, "I arrived in Greywatch Spire, and that very second, my eyes settled on the most handsome man I'd ever perceived."
"Not Da," I said with confidence. "But a strong looking fellow with short fiery hair and all the swagger the city could muster."
"Delia, love," Ma said gently, "who's doing the telling here?"
"Right, sorry."
"He was talking with a lump of a man, too strong to be even the slightest bit bright," her eyes sparkled with the telling of it. "Of course, that was a false read because —"
"The handsome one was a Lady! A married Lady!" I shouted before catching myself. "Sorry."
"And the lug was actually quite the gentleman," Ma continued without word. "Raised by the finest the Primrose family could offer. He took one look at me, and that was sold. And the Lady he was chatting up was his weird old aunt Nyx."
"His charm worked its way into your heart," I continued, "just like it does everyone."
"Right you are," she smiled, "and just like your Davian does with you."
"Delia, do you hear me?" Davian's voice pulled me from the memory and I looked toward the door. There were three people just outside. A woman dressed like she frequented court in the capital, a gentleman dressed to impress a bit too far, and another.
The third person was unassuming, mostly, but she carried a stunning air about her. She was darkness personified, wrapped in peace and love. On her left wrist, she wore a band of ivory. In spite of all appearances, she was a servant with a servant's name. Briar, I would hear moments later.
Why did I know that?
But that didn't suit. Another name bubbled to the surface, one I couldn't quite stop or place. "Deona," I muttered, and she met my gaze. The smile she shot me would've unsettled anyone else, but for whatever reason it warmed me to my core.
On her lapel, Deona wore a Queen's Heart blossom. Smaller than ordinary, likely due to the season. She was comfortable with poisons then.
"Hmm." The woman in courtly dress attempted to draw my attention. "The description's not quite right," she said with a scowl, "but it's good enough if the scoundrel isn't about."
"Scoundrel?" I raised a brow. "What happened with Roisin? What did she do?"
"You know her? The stray?" The man's voice was toxic. I nearly spat at the sound of it. "Good enough indeed. Briar, take the woman. Kill the others if they resist."
"Dear, Lord Montgomery," Deona said sweetly, "I would gladly give you that second favourite part of me if you allowed me to do this peacefully," she smiled at me again. "I'm sure Lady Magnia agrees."
"Fine, fine," Lord Montgomery sighed weakly, giving the Lady Magnia – I assumed – a helpless look. "Take them all. If they struggle, then do that thing you do. I have said once already this town does not suit."
"Of course, your magnanimous lordship," Deona bowed before turning back to me. "My sister in the goddess," the words were barely concealed venom, "do be a kind heart and gather your house. We shall be riding to the capital and delivering you unto the care of one Lady Myrtia. I was hoping for Roisin, but as the Lady and Lord say, you will do just fine."
Uncertainty gripped me, but it was better to comply than risk anyone getting hurt.
"Briar, was it," I addressed Deona – why was I convinced that was her name – softly, "we'll come along, only I need to leave a message for my sister."
The Lord Montgomery stepped in with what I assumed were conscription orders for Roisin and set them to the table. "This will suffice as message. If she arrives to the capital before us, then I am certain the Lady Myrtia will consider making a trade. She seemed deadly interested in protecting your darling sister, after all."
Without further waiting for us to comply, Deona began ushering my children out the door, Davian following to hopefully serve a buffer. Hopefully Roisin would get the message and give up on us. We were as good as dead the moment the Lord and Lady said we were 'good enough'. She had to survive above all else.
Everything would be okay if only Roisin survived.
The last I saw of our home was a portrait of the love we left behind. I clutched Asha's doll to my chest, an anchor to a life we were leaving behind.