She half stood, her expression earnest. “Please, Anamaya, sit down. We can talk about other things.”
I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to talk to her. A rainbow of colors washed over the crystals to my left as a beam of sunlight pierced through the window from a rare break in the cloud cover, bathing the room in vibrant shades of red, blue, and orange.
For a moment, I was back in the kitchen at home, the room filled with sunlight and my mother’s warm laughter. A knot formed in my heart, twisting and tightening with a longing that echoed physical pain.
The color display faded, and I flopped back into my seat, deflated. “I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. I might never be.
“Okay,” she said. “But I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can come speak to me. Now…I heard you freed Ruspin? Tell me about that…”
We spoke for another thirty minutes before the session ended and I could escape the room. Despite the rocky start, I had to admit—Mandy Snap grew on me. There was something calm and patient about her. Sincere and soothing, but it was only when I got back to my room in Bramble that realization dawned…Mandy Snap reminded me of my mother.
I retrieved Mother’s box from the bag I’d shoved into my wardrobe and took a seat at the dresser with it. How many times had she taken out these focuses and held them? Each focus must be saturated with her essence. Her imprint. I wished I could feel it. Feel her arms around me.
I gripped the box with trembling hands and squeezed my eyes shut tight against the tide of tears that wanted to break free. Ragged breaths tore at my lungs, leaving me hollow and full at the same time until I could take it no more. I broke, sobbing so hard I ate up all the oxygen in the room.
I missed her. I missed her so much it was like the world was gray and all the joy had been sucked from it. She’d been more than my mother. She’d been my best friend. My smile. My laughter. She’d made the shitty hand we’d been dealt worth playing.
I wiped at my face, wrangling my emotions into submission. I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not yet. I had a job to do.
“I’m going to find the truth, Mum. And when I do, I’ll be back to mark your grave with an Onyx headstone.”
CHAPTER 29
The Weave and Source are two different wells of power, and yet they can work in symbiosis through the right conductor.
THE SECRETS OF THE ARCANE
“Anamaya, wake up.”
I jolted awake, facing the door, hands curled into claws, nails digging into wood. “Fucksake. Not again.”
It had been three weeks since my first session with the counselor, and although I’d had a handful of episodes in the first two weeks after speaking with her, it had been a whole week since my last episode. I’d begun to think the sleepwalking was done with, but here I was again.
“Do you remember what you were dreaming about?” Clary asked.
“Not really. I think there was a forest and a rook. There’s always a fucking rook.”
She led me back to my room. “You want me to stay with you for a while?”
I did want the company, but it was probably some stupid hour. “What time is it?”
“Three a.m.” She stifled a yawn.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault that I’m a light sleeper.”
I flopped back onto my rumpled bed. “Maybe I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken. You’ve been through a lot. Have you spoken to Mandy about your sleepwalking?”
“Yeah, she thinks it’s the stress of…everything. Suppressed grief, blah, blah.” I smiled. “I know she’s trying but…nothing seems to be helping.”
“Maybe this is an effect of having the mark removed, the whole connected to the Weave but not connected. Once you get part of your power next week, you might feel better.”
The Restoration Ceremony, that had seemed so far away when I’d arrived at Nightsbridge, was now mere days away. Hard to believe I’d been here for more than five weeks.
Clary chewed on her cheeks, deep in thought.
