It was merely an observation, but it rattled Caelian’s bones. Because Morwyn was right, shewasat ease in Wenfyre. She was comfortable. Happy. And it was more than just the layered skirts and dresses with flowing sleeves, more than walking barefoot through the meadow and wearing crowns of flowers. It was the entire atmosphere. There was so much goodness to be discovered, a wealth of abundance that cared nothing about status, power, or charm. It was a simpler way of life, one that Caelian longed to fully embrace, and it was that notion which left her shaken.
Riddled her with guilt.
Because she shouldn’t want to be so far from her family. She shouldn’t imagine anywhere other than Aeramere as being home.
And yet…she could see herself fulfilled in Wenfyre, traipsing through the forest and flowers and trees, granting wishes every night on the beach.
It sounded like heaven.
Bliss.
But then there was Kjeld to consider, and he hardly seemed like the woodland, flower crown, amber necklace sort.
Caelian leaned back and absorbed Morwyn’s comment before responding in an entirely different manner. “Is it always like this here? Warm and balmy?”
Morwyn smiled, tapping her nails lightly on the curved arm of her seat. “Perpetually.”
It did sound lovely, living in a state of eternal summer.
Caelian reached into her pocket and pulled out the items she’d discovered while rifling through her mother’s desk. Now seemed as good of time as any to ask about them, as it was her sole purpose in coming here.
“When I was…” The wordhomestuck in the back of Caelian’s throat, and she couldn’t force it out. “Back in Aeramere, I found a few things while looking through my late mother’s belongings.”
“Oh?” Morwyn turned, tucking one leg up under her on the chair, twisting her plait of brown hair over one shoulder. “What sorts of things?”
“There’s a handful of letters, though I fear they’re written in a language I don’t understand.” Caelian carefully placed them upon the carved wooden table between them. “I was hoping you might be able to read them or at least tell me what they say. I believe they’re Druidic. And I also came across a stone, a pendant, and a feather.”
She gently set the other objects beside the stack of letters.
Morwyn skimmed the assortment of items between them, then picked up the polished stone engraved with three spirals. Rubbing her thumb across its surface, she held it to the light, where it sparkled like a rare gem. “This is from the River Thalorien. The markings indicate it holds a memory of some kind.”
“A memory,” Caelian repeated numbly and held out her hand when Morwyn offered her the stone. “And how does one unlock a memory kept within a stone?”
“You simply toss it back into the river and ask.” Morwyn made it sound as though it was the easiest thing in the world todo, as though anyone could ask a river to return a memory. “As for this…”
She twirled the sleek black raven feather between her fingers, giving the twine at the bottom a small tug. “I’m afraid there’s no magical story or boundary tied to this, it’s a plain raven feather.”
Caelian’s brows clashed together, and she pressed her lips into a hard line. “Just a feather? What about the twine?”
Morwyn flicked it back and forth so the feather glinted like a shard of obsidian. “Mm. No. Nothing. If there was any importance to this, then it was only significant to your mother and no one else. It may have just been something she wanted to keep, something to which she formed an attachment.”
“Oh.” Caelian tried to erase the disappointment from her voice. “And the pendant?”
It was a lovely necklace made of worn leather, and dangling from the end of it was a piece of bone carved into the shape of an oak leaf.
“Hand crafted,” Morwyn mused, rolling it between her fingers. “Likely a gift of some kind. Or a treasure. The oak is symbolic of strength and endurance, so there is a chance Trysta was leaning into her own inner fortitude.”
“Yes,” Caelian mumbled, shoving the baubles back into her pocket. “I suppose someone would need to possess a certain amount of bravery to poison their own husband.”
A beat of uneasy silence passed, and she clasped her hands in her lap.
“If you want, I can attempt to translate the letters. But if you’d rather, we can save them for another day as well.” Beside her, Morwyn turned in her seat, her dress of ivory and sage tumbling around her legs in soft layers. “I don’t want to sour your mood. Today is supposed to be a happy occasion.”
“I am happy.” Not a lie, yet Caelian felt the need to defend herself, even though her disposition was suddenly less than cheerful. “I’m just…thinking.”
“About?” Morwyn prompted, her expression as serene as ever, like the smooth surface of a lake without waves.
“About why…why did Trysta agree to go along with Elowyn’s plans? Why did she feel the need to end my father’s life? Why even come to Aeramere at all?” She tossed her arms wide, exasperation causing the air to pinch tight in her lungs. “Why didn’t she love us?”
