“I love you. Soon we won’t have to hide. I promise,” Arden whispered.
With that, he ducked away with Falon on his heels.
Stella adjusted her dress and hair and waited a moment before walking back through the garden. Just inside the entrance, a woman was bent over, vomiting into a bush.
“Are you—” Stella’s words turned to a gasp as the woman turned to look at her. “Mama?”
Cecilia’s usually rosy cheeks were pale and her eyes glassy in the torchlight. “I’m fine. A bit too much bubble wine.”
They stared at each other in the half-light. Her mother was a terrible liar. The joyful noise of the party grated against the seriousness of the moment.
“You’re never sick,” Stella said at the same time Cecilia said, “Not a word to your father.”
Stella stared at her mother. Her eyes were shadowed a bit, but she was otherwise so well-preserved that people occasionally mistook her for Stella’s older sister. While Rainer’s hair had begun to go a bitgray around his temples, Cecilia’s was still dark and wild, not a hint of dullness in its vibrant color.
Now her skin—porcelain and glowing most of the time—looked sallow.
“Will you get me some mint and water from the refreshment table?” Cecilia rasped. “I won’t have your father worrying. You know how he can be. He loves something to fuss over and I’d rather not be his new project.”
Stella forced her face into a tight smile and nodded. She swept into the tent as stealthily as she could, trying to slow her thoughts. Both of her grandmothers had died of the wasting disease. Stella had worked at the healer’s clinic with her mother long enough to know the signs of it. It always started the same—with fatigue, lack of appetite, and vomiting.
She gathered some mint in her trembling hands, trying to recall if her mother’s appetite had been normal in recent weeks. Her recollection was perfect thanks to her memory magic, but the power only perfectly preserved memory when she was paying attention. Frantically, she called on her magic and sorted through her recent memories.
She’d been so concerned about her relationship with Arden over the past few weeks that she’d scarcely noticed much else. Stella forced herself back to the present moment, the perfectly preserved memories dissolving as she opened her eyes to the party. She grabbed a glass of water and dashed back to the garden where her mother was waiting.
Cecilia swished the water and spit it into a bush before ripping off a few mint leaves and chewing them. She drank some water as she chewed more leaves and her color slowly returned to normal.
“Gods, you look like your father when you’re worried,” Cecilia said. “Stop frowning like that. This happens to women my age. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ll see Lyra at the clinic on Monday and all will be well.”
Stella frowned. Her mother was barely old enough to be goingthrough that particular change, and as far as she knew, vomiting wasn’t a symptom.
An intuitive knowing hung between the two of them like a thread pulled too tight.
“Little Star, go back and enjoy the party, and don’t give this another thought. It was probably the heat and the wine. I’m going to have your father walk me home?—”
“I’ll come with you,” Stella insisted.
Her mother shook her head. “Nonsense. You’re young. You should have your fun. What were you doing out here anyway?”
Stella looked away. “Looking at the roses.”
Her mother bit back a laugh. “Oh really? I’ve spent an evening or two admiring the roses myself. I hope you’re being careful and using your monthly preventative spell so you don’t have any rosebuds of your own before you want them.”
“Mama!”
Cecilia brushed Stella’s cheek with her fingertips. “I’m not judging, and I don’t need to know who he is. All I care about is that he’s treating you well, that he respects your wishes, and that you’re being responsible. And gods help us, do not let your father figure it out. He likes to pretend like I’m the protective one, but he’ll be insufferable and I doubt you want him sitting your beau down for a lecture.”
Stella nodded and walked back into the party without any further urging. Her cheeks still burned with humiliation. She waited for her mother to walk by. As soon as Cecilia passed, Stella rushed from the tent, tearing down the trail to home.
The house was dark, but she followed the glow of candlelight up to Rosie’s room.
Her younger sister was awake in her bed, a book of their parents’ fairy tales open on her chest. “What’s wrong?” she asked as soon as she saw Stella’s face.
Stella considered telling her. All she’d wanted was a few precious moments alone with Arden. Instead, she’d stumbled upon a terrible secret.
Rosie was old enough for the truth at twenty and she was also atalented healer, so she’d likely know more symptoms. But she looked so peaceful and Stella couldn’t rob her of it. What was a big sister’s job if not to protect her younger siblings? She’d been doing it for Leo and Rosie since they were all young. More than once she’d set a handsy boy straight or threatened a bully in Leo’s training program.
Stella cleared her throat. “I was just sad that you decided not to join the party tonight.”
