“We all do.” He offers me a small smile, still looking pale as he reaches for the door. “My father, my sister, and me.”
The world tilts. Callan grabs my arm as I stumble. My heart thumps unsteadily, a lump appearing in my throat. “Ryn. Emryn. Your sister is Leesa?”
He looks so different. But of course, he would. Ten years have taken Emryn from a small, skinny boy to a man, and the hardness of those years shows in his face even as he pauses. Pale brows draw together. “How would you know that?”
I fight to keep my face steady. To stop it from crumpling. “I used to sit with you at the hearth, sometimes. You and your sister, and… your mother, too.”
Ria. Ria with her long, scarlet hair, husky laugh and work-worn hands. With bright, naturally green eyes that had lit up whenever she looked at her husband or her children, even as she chased and chided them. Ria, whose beautiful hair had been soaked by the pool of blood surrounding her when I saw her last.
His lips part, eyes widening. “Honey cakes. I remember. You were the faeyte? I’m so sorry—I didn’t remember your name.”
“I didn’t have one then.” My chest is tight as I force myself to take a breath. “There is nothing to apologize for. But I am glad to see you again.”
“Of course.” He looks as though he has seen a wraith. “My father spoke of you often. I did not realize that you would be—well—you’ll see. But he’s not well.”
My eyes blur and tears spill over. I gather my composure, wiping my cheeks. “I would very much like to see Jonas again.”
Their home is just as I remember, and it takes my breath away. The tears threaten once more, but I choke them back, ducking beneath the beam just in front of the door as my eyes sweep the small space. The furniture Jonas crafted under Ria’s strict instruction is still here, the wooden dresser against the wall holding crockery and cooking pots. The worn rug beneath my feet is faded now, holes poking through where the fibers have stretched too thin.
The back of the house has been rearranged. I follow Emryn through their common area to where the beds sit, two of them bigger now.
And in the last bed, pushed against the wall, is Jonas.
His eyes are closed. When my feet refuse to move, Callan slips past me. His fingers brush against mine before he leans over the older man with a familiarity I lack. “Jo? It’s Callan.”
Jonas was a strong male ten years ago. He had fought, and fought hard. He had bought me time. But now his dark hair is a shocking white, thin and wispy as milky eyes blink open and he struggles upright. Callan slips an arm around him easily, helping him upright, and placing a pillow behind him as Emryn moves in, taking a seat beside the bed. “Da? I found someone you’ll want to see.”
I stay back as Jonas fixes that gaze on Callan. “Lad.”
His voice rasps. Callan is already reaching for a pitcher beside the bed, pouring a few inches of water into the cup and holding itup for him to drink. “It’s always good to see you, friend. But I’m not your guest today.”
“Who?” Another rasp, followed by a hacking cough.
Emryn stands, and I slip into his vacated space. My voice sounds small. “Hello, Jonas.”
His eyes run over my face. Once, and then again. His voice trembles when he speaks again. “I know you.”
Silent, I nod. His movements are slow and jerky as he twists. “Ryn.”
“What d’you need, Da?” Ryn leans in to listen to his father’s hoarse whisper. His eyes shift to mine and then away, a small frown on his face. He ducks beneath the bed and pulls out a plain wooden box, then hands it to his father. “Here you go.”
Jonas nods. “Give us a minute.”
Callan says nothing, the snick of the door closing behind them the only sound as they give us privacy. Jonas gestures weakly to the box on his lap. “Could you…,”
“Of course.” I reach for it and flip it open. It’s filled to the brim with pieces of parchment.
Jonas is watching me. “Your mother came to me.”
My heart turns over in my chest. I shake my head. “The Mother? She’s gone, Jonas. All of them are.”
He reaches inside the box with fingers that shake badly. “Not now.Before. She told me you would come back.”
I stare at the curled parchment he tugs free, yellowed by age.
Jonas does not offer it to me. He turns it over in his hands. But his eyes look clearer as our gazes meet. “She told me you would be important. That I needed to help you, when the Caelumnai came. And I needed to take care of this, for when you came home once more.”
He folds my shaking hands over the parchment, keeping his hand over mine. “She told us you would save them. My Ryn. My Leesa. She sat with us, Ria and I, and she told us things weshould not have known. We saw what our fate would be in her shadows, and we knew what we must do.”
