“Got word from the stablemaster just now, they’re due to arrive any minute.” Charles nods.
My heart races as I pull my tight curls into a low bun, then secure my hood over my head. Jarek joins me, donning his cloak as well.
They’re here. My mother and the others are here, and we’re one step closer to getting Elora and Galen back. My fingers itch as I pull my bag onto my shoulder, the Stones still securely inside, and head out the door.
The walk to the stables is miserable in the downpour. I’ve always respected each of The Mother’s four seasons but the constant rain that comes with Autumn is one thing I could do without. I smile despite it. Elora would probably love this gloomy weather.
We step into the small barn, our boots squelching, and my heart stammers as I see my mother, Letty, and Eviey dismounting their horses.
I feel like a child as I dart towards Agnes, but I can’t help the swell of emotions that seeing her brings. Relief that she’s here.
Guilt that she's here.
Her limp is more prominent than ever as she meets me halfway, confirming the guilt sitting low in my gut.
I should have never made her come all this way.
Wrapping my arms around her, I take a deep inhale of her familiar scent—peppermint and pine. A sense of home washes over me, and the feeling leaves me relieved and nostalgic.
She pulls me back and pats both of my cheeks with her cold hands. Her silver coiled curls spring free as she draws back her hood, and her amber eyes drift behind me to where I know Charles and Jarek stand.
“Sorin?” Her voice is hushed, and a pang of jealousy hits me that she hasn’t asked how I’m doing before she asks about him. I should be used to everyone being in Sorin’s favor, but it stillhurts to see myself pushed aside. I love my brother, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t hurt to be cast in such a large shadow.
“He’ll be back in a few days. He seeks aid from the Jade Guild.” I try my best to keep my voice light as I grab her hand again and give it a squeeze of reassurance.
The last thing my mother needs is more worry, so I pull her in tightly to my side, rubbing her arm.
She nods but remains silent as we make our way out of the stables and into the gray rain.
Back at the Sherwood Inn,the walls of our room are suffocating as the six of us shuffle in, cupping and rubbing our hands together to warm the dampness from our bones.
“How was the ride in?” I ask cautiously, setting down a tray of tea from the pub on the only table in the room. The walls of the Inn are thin, and you can never be too certain who might be listening. While Loxley isn’t a secret to all, it’s a secret to most, and I wouldn’t want to give away too much information to wandering ears.
“It was just as you’d expect.” Agnes purses her lips and stretches her long, thin fingers near the fireplace. The different runes permanently inked across her brown knuckles make me smile. My mother’s words are vague, but I know she has the same intuition as I do.
Be cautious.
I nod, shooting a glance at Jarek. I hand him one of the cups of tea and the other to Agnes. Letty and Eviey help themselves, making small talk with Charles on the opposite side of the room.
My mother has always been a fighter. Fierce and powerful yet kind and just. The perfect leader for Loxley, even when my father, William, was still at the helm. The two of them were the ideal pair. Their love for each other and their children is almost fearsome to those not in it. But today, as she sits across from me, she looks tired. The typical amber glow to her eyes is more dull than when I saw her last. And her limp…
“Where are they?” Her voice is quiet as she cups her mug with a slight tremble in her hands, not yet bringing it to her mouth. “The Stones?”
Her eyes remain on the fire, but Jarek and I catch each other’s gaze only for a moment. His brows pinch together, and I know he’s having the same concerns about her health that I am.
“They’re here, in my bag.” I stand to fetch the pack from Jarek, but before I can cross the room, Agnes grips my arm. Her eyes are glazed and milky white. Her nails dig into my tunic, piercing the soft flesh underneath. A shudder runs through me as I recognize what is about to happen.
A vision.
I steady my breathing and focus on the rise and fall of my chest as my mother’s face transforms before me.
“Not all those you trust are worthy.” Her voice becomes a low howl, and in an instant Jarek is at my side. His palm is heavy on the small of my back, but my eyes stay focused on my mother’s face.
“Those who once were, are no longer. And those who are, will rise.”
If it wasn’t for my gray linen shirt, I’m certain her nails would have broken the skin on my arm.
Like a wave crashing into the shore, Agnes’ features soften. Her eyes return to their soft honey; her brows relax as her shoulders unclench. Her grip lessons on my arm, but her touch lingers.
