Lira laughed, tinkling and bubbly. She crossed her ankles, her smile illuminating her face. “No magic words. Just ask.”
“And…” Caelian hesitated, stepping closer to the rushing waters. “Do I say them out loud? Or in my head?”
“Whichever is more comfortable for you.” Lira lifted one shoulder, then let it fall in a half-hearted shrug. “The river will hear you either way.”
Right.
Mustering up the remains of her courage, Caelian waded into the river until the cool flow of it caressed her ankles. Smooth pebbles and stones cradled her feet, sifting as the water rushedpast. Inhaling deeply, she summoned her wavering courage. She could do this, she could ask to see a memory. After all, she’d done and seen far worse. Stars above, she attempted to sacrifice herself for three baby dragons. She lost her magic to save Kjeld’s life. Certainly she could do something so uncomplicated as speaking to a river.
Around her, the branches of nearby trees swayed and shook, as though they were unable to control their laughter. As though the Myrkwild was also privy to her thoughts. Squaring her shoulders, she gripped the stone tightly in one hand, then glanced back over her shoulder at Lira, who was still sprawled on the banks.
“What will it feel like?” Caelian called out, a spike of worry needling her spine. She didn’t even consider what might happen after she thew the stone. For all she knew, she could be transported to another time, another place.
Lira leaned back and flashed an encouraging smile. “Like remembering.”
All well and good if it was Caelian’s memory, but this one supposedly belonged to her mother. Or at least Morwyn has claimed as much.
She really hoped the Druid queen was right.
Before Caelian could lose her nerve, she closed her eyes and welcomed the ebb and flow of the current. Smooth stones slid and shifted beneath her feet, the water coursed around her ankles, absorbing her into its ethereal beauty. Inhaling deeply, Caelian breathed in the world around her—crisp greenery, sweet florals, the distant tang of the sea—and then she tossed the stone into the river.
Show me my mother’s memory.
Please.
At first there was nothing, just the sound of rushing water in her ears. Agonizing seconds ticked by, and she worried she’dfallen into some kind of trap, one destined to make her look like an absolute fool. She almost opened her eyes, almost cursed herself for believing it would work when it wasn’t her memory to start. But then an array of vibrant colors blurred in her mind, swirling and spreading like watercolors, bleeding into an image of two people locked in an embrace. It looked like a romantic painting at first—a male dressed in his finest, a female in a gown of light blue. They only had eyes for each other, and embarrassment flooded Caelian. This shared moment between them was private. Intimate. And she didn’t think she should be willingly looking upon it, until everything cleared and the couple came into sharp focus.
It wasn’t just any couple.
It was Caelian’s parents.
And she was at their wedding.
Zenos and Trysta were young. They were alive. And they were absolutely in love.
They stood at the Moonfall Peaks, Zenos in a trim suit with a handsome grin, Trysta in a gown with a crown of twigs and flowers upon her head. There was no glamour. No disguise. Zenos married Trysta knowing she was a Druid, he hadn’t been tricked or fooled. Caelian gaped at the scene unfolding before her. It played on repeat, the same handful of seconds, over and over again. Her mother laughing, her father smiling. He would twirl her once, then kiss her soundly on the mouth to the sound of enthusiastic applause.
Spellbound, Caelian couldn’t look away, not even when the scene spiraled into a hazy medley of colors and sounds. The wedding faded into the background and in its place was a slightly older version of Trysta, with a gaggle of children at her feet. Eight to be exact. Caelian’s siblings laughed and played, the cries of delight and merriment echoing through House Celestine so far gone that Caelian could barely recall them. Yet much like thescene before it, this one replayed itself. The Starstorm siblings playing. Their mother doting upon them. A chilling knock on the main door and Trysta coming face to face with the callous expression of Queen Elowyn.
Caelian longed to pause it, if she could only freeze the frame of this memory, then maybe she could pinpoint where everything went wrong. From what she’d witnessed so far, it looked as though her motherhadloved them. All of them. If these memories were real and true, then Trysta was a good mother who’d been desperately in love with Zenos Starstorm. Caelian blinked, determined to understand what was being said between her mother and Queen Elowyn before this vision vanished. Because when Trysta glanced over her shoulder, her gaze raking over the faces of her children, fear was reflected in her eyes.
Cold, terrifying fear.
What is the queen saying to her?
Caelian strained.
It was as though the river heard her plea, and Queen Elowyn’s frigid and clipped tone clashed against the murmur of wishes in her mind.
“You cannot have both, Trysta. You must choose.”
Choose? What in the stars…
“Them.” The queen’s glare sharpened as she scowled at the children. “Or him.”
Caelian gasped, stumbling back. Horror filled her until her blood was ice pumping through her veins, freezing her from the inside out, and her heart was slashed in half. Ripped from her chest. She clamped a hand over her heart, disbelieving the memory unfolding before her. She waded further into the river, felt the rush of water engulf her knees. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be true.
“No! Mother, no! Don’t listen to her!” she shouted, as though she half expected Trysta to turn and see her, like she thought she could save her mother from making a damning mistake.
