And there it was, the unforgivable truth of the matter.
Why didn’t Caelian’s mother love her and her siblings? If they were strictly a means to an end, why bother having so many of them? Ariesian was the firstborn, and a male at that, so the Starstorm title would have passed to him, anyway. But why would Trysta continue having children if she wanted nothing to do with them? If they were merely a thorn in her side?
Morwyn must have sensed her inner turmoil, because she did not press the matter further.
Caelian fiddled with the hem of her sleeve where it belled out around her elbow. “If you wouldn’t mind reading them, just to see. Maybe there will be some new and enlightening fact I’ve not yet discovered.”
Likewhy.
“Of course.” Morwyn flipped through the pile of letters, sorting them and scanning through their contents.
Caelian paid careful attention to her face, noting the way the faint lines across her forehead deepened then faded, coming and going like the tide. Every so often she would purse her lips or press them into a firm line, her brows pulling together or arching slightly. She read through each one, her gaze flitting over the strange shapes and markings, her expression shifting and changing with every word.
Morwyn sighed heavily, then shuffled the letters together.
It could have been a play of light sifting through the elegant branches of the Eldergrove, but a shadow clouded half of her face, stealing the warmth from Morwyn’s eyes. She blinked, gave her head a light shake, then set the letters back upon the table.
“I fear these letters will not give you the answers you seek.” Her solemn voice extinguished the last spark of hope inside Caelian’s chest. “These are…well, they’re love letters. Very poignant love letters.”
“What?” Caelian’s mouth fell open and she snapped it shut. She snatched the first one, her eyes darting back and forth over the strange squiggles and lines, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not make sense of the words. “Love letters between who?”
Morwyn offered her a small smile, laced with sympathy. “Between your mother and your father.”
It was as though someone had pierced her with a searing blade, puncturing her lungs. She simply could not draw air. Disbelief pulled her thoughts in every direction, because how could Trysta possibly poison the man with whom she confessed her undying love? It made absolutely no sense. Unless she was lying, of course. But then why write any letters to Zenos at all? There were other ways to earn a male’s affection, and they didn’t involve swapping words of adoration on ink and parchment.
“You’re certain these letters are between Zenos and Trysta Starstorm?” she asked, the cold and calculated weight of realization settling around her shoulders.
“Absolutely. There is no mistaking their names.” Morwyn’s confirmation was unwavering.
Caelian stood abruptly, gathering the letters, and tucking them safely into the pocket of her dress. She closed her hand around the river stone, squeezed it tightly. “If my parents were truly in love, then something, somewhere, went horribly wrong.”
Morwyn did not respond, but she dipped her head in understanding, already knowing what Caelian was about to say next.
“I must go to the River Thalorien.”
Caelian wastedno time trekking to the river’s edge.
For some reason, she thought she would have to sneak past other Druids and not catch their notice, because she imagined a river that kept memories would most certainly be a popular spot. But as she stood on the sun-dappled banks, with the cushioned blades of grass beneath her feet, she was the only one there.
She lowered herself to the ground, smoothed her skirts underneath her, and drew her knees to her chest. The River Thalorien spoke to her in whispered song, but though its voice was a tempting lure of melody, the words themselves were warped and confusing. It seemed the only logical thing to do was dunk her head underwater so that its words were no longer garbled, but Caelian didn’t feel like drowning, so she subjected herself to its obscure song.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the river stone.
Part of her imagined it would come to life being this close to the river, that it would fling itself back into the turquoise current. But alas, it lay flat in her palm while she stared at it, unsure of what to do next.
Caelian ran her fingers over the three swirls marking its surface, wishing she knew what they meant.
“Have you ever used a memory stone before?”
Lira’s song-like voice floated over her, and Caelian startled, glancing up.
Standing above her was Lira, her cerulean gaze locked on the river’s rapids as the water rushed past rocks, then dipped sharply, following nature’s true path. She wore a skirt of the palest blue and a corset of buttery yellow. Her blouse was white and draped loosely from her bare shoulders, while ribbons curled behind her in the gentle breeze. Her dark pink hair was long and loose, ruffling around her in gentle waves, and where she stood, lilacs sprouted and bloomed.
“I haven’t.” Caelian closed her fingers around the stone. “What do I do first?”
“It’s fairly simple.” Lira dropped onto the ground next to her, stretching out her lovely long tanned legs. She braced herself with her hands, tipping her face up to the glimmers of sunlight peeking in through the overhang of leaves above. “You’ll want to wade a little into the river, up to your ankles is fine. There’s no need to go deeper than that. Then you’ll concentrate, feel the river move and flow around you. When you’re ready, toss the stone into the river, and ask to see the memory.”
“That’s it?” Caelian questioned, pushing to her feet. “I don’t have to say any magic words or anything of the like?”
