“Yes, it is,” Pansy’s mother agreed.
Setting the weapon down beside them, Ren said, “Thank you for the dagger. I will treat it like the gift that it is.”
“Oh. I— you’re welcome. Though I sincerely hope you never have cause to use it.”
Ren’s expression was grim. “As do I.”
A weight settled into the pit of Pansy’s stomach at Ren’s words. They felt… foreboding, ominous, a precursor to some disaster she couldn’t quite make the shape of – or, rather, simply didn’t want to. Desperate to chase the sensation away, she hopped to her feet and began clearing the empty plates.
“Don’t bother,” her mother said, quickly moving to wave her off. “I’ll take care of the dishes myself.”
“Too late,” Pansy replied, her hands already full of floral dishware.
“Should I help?” Ren asked, shifting forward in their seat, as if to rise.
“No,” Pansy and her mother barked in unison, sending Ren sliding obediently back into the sofa.
“Andyou,” her mother continued, leveling an almost accusatory finger at her daughter, “are a guest. You shouldn’t be cleaning up anything.”
“Oh, well,” Pansy said with a shrug, already on her way out of the room. “Next time, then.” As if she wouldn’t do the same exact thing…
Her mother, of course, was acutely aware of this fact. She said as much, chasing after Pansy into the kitchen, where she finally managed to haul her daughter away from the sink before she could fill it with water.
“Mum,” Pansy huffed. “It won’t kill me to wash some dishes.”
“I know, I know. But you’re my baby. Fully grown and out of the burrow, which leaves only so many ways for me to take care of you; so, forgive me if I’m a little protective.” Her mother smiled, a touch wan.
She’d missed her, Pansy suddenly understood. Granted, she’d said as much. But Pansy’s absence had cut deeper than she’d realized.
Taking her mother’s hand in hers, Pansy said, “I want to come visit, Mum. Leaving Haverow, meeting Ren – none of that changes the fact that I love you and Dad.That’swhy I promised to come by for dinner every ten-day. Not because I felt obligated, but because I wanted to. It just…” She sucked in a deep breath, lips thinning. “It just really hurt me that you and Dad turned something I’d been looking forward to into something so –so awful.”
Her mother’s expression crumbled. Shoulders slumping, she looked towards the floor. “I – I know, sweetheart. I was just soworriedabout you. I saw the way you’d left home, andsomehow all I could think about was my own mother – your grandmother – and how she’d left home too.”
“Mum…”
“I try not to talk about it, especially not to you.” She swallowed, blinking hard against the moisture glazing her eyes. “A parent shouldn’t burden their child with such things. But… It was hard for me, growing up with a mother who was never there, even when she wasn’t off on an adventure. Her mind was always… well, you saw some of it. Your father and I couldn’t hide everything from you, no matter how hard we tried.”
“I know. I remember,” Pansy said, and she did. She remembered the screams in the night, the sounds of her grandmother waking up from yet another nightmare; the vacant, unseeing looks throughout the day; the names of lost friends and allies that she would call to in moments of distress, moments when her grandmother seemed to have been transported somewhere else entirely, sometimes even mid-sentence. And, of course, Pansy remembered what had happened at last year’s Harvest Festival – though, doubtless, everyone did.
“When you were born,” her mother said, a whisper of old happiness curling at the corner of her mouth, “the moment the midwife placed you in my arms, small and precious beyond words, all I could think about was how I needed to protect you from all the horrors of this world. I would be the mother my own mother never was. I would be there, every day, a shield around your happiness. And somehow, along the way, I let my own fears get the better of me, and instead I became the sword that cut it down. I’m sorry, Pansy.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Pansy said softly, pulling her into a hug. “I forgive you. Just promise me you’ll never invite Councilor Millwood over again when I’m around.”
Her mother laughed and swiped lightly at her eyes. “I promise. But Pansy…” She pulled away, her expression serious. “I need you to answer me honestly. Does Ren make you happy?”
Pansy didn’t even need to think about it. The answer sprang to her lips immediately: “Happier than anything in the world.”
“Good. That’s all that matters to me. Though, I suspected as much,” she added, smiling in that knowing, all-too-motherly sort of way. “A mother always knows when her baby’s in love. Does Ren know? Have you told them? Honestly, you should at this point, considering you’ve already brought them to meet your parents. It’s a little out of order, don’t you think?”
Pansy flushed. “Mum!”
Thankfully, it had gotten late enough that she could plead needing to head down to the festival, thereby sparing herself any further embarrassment at the hands of her mother. But just to be sure, Pansy more or less rushed Ren out the door, the festival once again serving as the perfect excuse. Who knew what else her mother might say if given the chance? Pansy certainly didn’t want to find out, her face still burning from earlier.
“They’re nice,” Ren said as they made their way down the garden path, the dagger now strapped to their hip. “Your father was surprisingly interested in foraging. He started asking me all kinds of questions while you were in the kitchen.”
“It went better than I expected,” Pansy agreed.
Ren cocked an eyebrow. “You expected the worst.”
