“For a while there,” she begins, her voice suddenly soft and fragile. “You reminded me what it’s like to have friends.”
My chest tightens with pain. “Lavendera, why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”
“Because I am. I am over six thousand years old. My body should be ashes in the wind right now. I have only lived this long because of the Mother Dryad. Without her, I cannot survive.”
“You’re dying?” I press out, my voice choked.
“Yes. Don’t look so sad. This is what I wanted.”
“You knew this would happen? You knew you were going to die? And you… you want it to be this way?”
“Of course.” A knowing smile ghosts across her lips. “Why do you think I looked so happy when I walked into the thorn forest where you were waiting to assassinate me?”
Shock pulses through me.
But Lavendera just smiles again. “I was hoping you would succeed.”
Next to her, the Mother Dryad squeezes her hand. There is no judgement on her ancient face, even though Lavendera’s death would have meant that the Mother Dryad died too. As if she knows exactly why Lavendera was hoping for it and sympathizes with her.
Shaking my head, I stare at her. “I don’t understand.”
She draws in a shuddering breath as another tremor rollsthrough her body. Age-old hurt flickers in her eyes for a second, and she presses her trembling lips together. Then she drags in another deep breath before sweeping serious eyes over us all.
“I was nineteen years old when I was taken,” she says, her voice breaking on the last word. “Nineteen. My entire life has only been filled with pain. An endless cycle of torment and agony and despair.” A sob rips from her lips, and tears slide down her cheeks. “I am tired. I just want to rest now. I want to finally be with my mother and sister, who have been waiting for me for six thousand years. I am tired of hurting. I am tired of being alone and in pain. After everything I have been through, I think I deserve peace.”
Tears burn behind my eyes, and I swallow against the thickness in my throat.
Another ripple goes through Lavendera’s body, and her eyes flutter.
The Mother Dryad holds her hand and strokes her cheek, wiping away the tears. “We have had six thousand years together, my friend. And you have been so strong. But now, you can rest.”
Lavendera sobs, her entire chest shaking and tears streaming down her face as she squeezes the dryad’s hand back.
The ancient dryad makes a soothing sound, and draws her fingers over Lavendera’s forehead, brushing away a few loose strands of hair. “Goodbye, my friend. I will watch the sunrise for you.”
Broken sobs full of relief and pain and centuries of friendship spill from Lavendera’s lips.
Still holding her trembling hand, the Mother Dryad cups her cheek. “Daughter of the Dawn, who has seen too much and suffered for too long. Rest now. I will walk the dawn for you.”
Lavendera lets out a deep sigh.
And then she smiles.
Her eyes sparkle in the glowing light of the rising sun.
Then her body turns to ash as the six thousand years of her life catch up with her all at once.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I watch her ashes drift away on a warm summer wind.
They glitter in the golden light as a new dawn rises over the Seelie Court.
.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Aripple goes through the crowd as the Mother Dryad suddenly stands up. My friends and I, who were seeing Lavendera’s soul off to Mabona’s evergreen garden, get to our feet as well and move aside as the ancient dryad spreads her arms.
But vines quickly shoot up from the ground, encircling our feet.
