Clenching her jaw, Trisha pushed the regret aside and piled a helping onto her makeshift frond plate. Eating saved her from speaking, but she remained conscious of Tilia’s steady gaze, the way it prickled her skin.
Rilka dove down to sink her hand in the honeycomb, and Trisha tilted her head.
“Rilka,” she started. “Your wings… I thought Shi’as got one of them?”
The fairy froze in mid-twirl before tossing her curly-haired head. “The snake can have it.” She sneered, spreading the wings wider. “I found a better one.” They were mismatched—one shimmering like cobwebs of silver and starlight, the other darker, spun from shadows. “Isn’t it magnificent? Stronger! It’ll carry me higher.”
“It is.” Trisha popped a blackberry in her mouth, smiling. Though it quickly died when her eyes caught Tilia’s solemn face.
“You’ve seen the serpent?” Tilia asked, concerned.
Trisha twisted the loose leather cords between her fingers, a twinge of shame warring with her hurt. “Well, not by choice.”
Tilia’s forehead creased. “I’ve warned you, Trisha. Stay away from him. He wants nothing good.”
A bitter laugh escaped Trisha. “Trust me, I’d be much happier if he’d ignored me.”
Tilia turned a clay cup in her hand and sipped. “He was there when your human mother crossed the threshold. By King Teoryin’s side.”
Trisha drew a deep breath, asking the question that hadhaunted her ever since she left the Undying Lands. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” Her voice broke. She’d have cried if she’d had tears left, but only their echo burned her eyes.
“Not of my own choice, child.” Tilia’s gaze dropped, voice low. “Your mother asked for it.”
The bottom of the half-empty cup in Trisha’s hand was like the pit inside her: she couldn’t see its end. Tilia leaned, resting a hand on her knee. It was warm, her hold firm, but Trisha flinched.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Tilia continued. The rustle of linden leaves sounded with her words. “I wasn’t bound by her request, not even when King Teoryin told me of her wish. But…” Her green eyes were depthless, their shine sad. “Being cruel isn’t in the tree’s song.”
“And yet, it was cruelty,” Trisha whispered, shaken, her world upended once more. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Those seven years, those pains, those sufferings… Truly, her parents had never wanted her.
“I see it now,” Tilia sighed with a voice as steady as still water, a rock buried in the earth, and yet, deeper still, regret echoed. “I should never have taken your memories. They weren’t mine to take. Will you forgive me?” Tilia’s hand rested on Trisha’s knee, dark like soil and bark.
Trisha paused, letting a quivering breath out. “Of course I forgive you. Even if it still hurts.”
Tilia answered with a smile that was both old and young.
The fairy broke the air’s quietude by somersaulting down with a gleeful shrill. Hand sunk in the honey, she squinted at Trisha. “You’ve brought more sadness.” Spine stiffening, Trisha yanked in a breath, but Rilka didn’t wait for an answer, licking the thick sweetness from her fingers. “You should’ve listened to me. That’s all the mortal world ever gives: time-swallowed laments. Winter-frosted oblivion.”
“You can’t know that for certain,” Trisha protested. “It holds much more. It has songs and music. Laughter. Love—” She bit her lip to swallow the rest of her words.Damn. It was enough to prompt Tilia.
“You said you’re running from someone?”
Trisha’s fingers twitched. “He… sees through my music and magic. I don’t know how. It scares me.”
Rilka snorted, earning a thoughtful glance from Tilia. “Truth can be terrifying,” the dryad reminded.
“And yet he doesn’t give me his.” Trisha’s voice was hoarse. “How can I trust someone who only shows me a morsel of himself?”
Tilia sipped from her cup. “Perhaps he, too, is afraid?”
Trisha snorted down a laugh. What could a man whose control over his land and himself was near absolute be afraid of? But Tilia’s gaze remained steady. Trisha glanced to her side.
“May I stay?” she asked. “I can’t return, not just yet.” Her heartbeat quickened. To return to Eichlandt, so soon…
“You can stay just as long as you need, dear,” Tilia said. “But the High King will expect you, now that you’re back.”
“Oh! Will you play with the Shadow Sisters?” Rilka clapped a staccato beat. “If you do, I’ll get my flute.” Her petal-nose wrinkled as she scowled. “The snake’s been poisoning the court with his incessant singing.”
“You know the ladies invite whom they want, and Teoryin’s the king. It’s his choice who attends him.” Trisha sighed. “I’d be much happier if he rid himself of Shi’as, but I guess it’s a foolish hope.”
