Elloven’s tears had been inevitable, but she was impressed they hadn’t started the moment she’d walked in. “I should have listened to you and never gone, Mama.”
“It warms me to the soul that you still call me Mama. I feared you might not, when you learned where you’d come from and why.” Esme withdrew her hand and groaned in pain. “The truth besides, I never saw myself otherwise.”
Elloven had gone rounds with herself over the meaning of family and how she felt about everything her biological and adoptive parents had done to uphold the lies, but right and wrong, good and bad, were constructs of a society that favored the deceivers. “I should have come sooner. So much has happened. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“You came right when you needed to. I know about Taven, dearest. I have already grieved him. You needn’t explain your changeless nature either. I’m sure it’s a fascinating tale, as all tales of the curias are, but it doesn’t matter to the here and now. All that matters to me is that you are home.” Esme opened her arms, and Elloven crawled into them, as she had when she’d been a girl. Years fell away and her pain dimmed, because she was home, and Esme was her mother in every way that mattered. “You’re here now, sweet girl.”
Elloven nestled her teary face into her mother’s neck. “I thought if I could only...” She laced her hand through Esme’s and was staggered by how old it felt. Her skin was no longer leathered but thin, like paper. Her veins protruded like joints. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to burden you, Mama. Not now.”
“And when have you ever been a burden, Elloven?” Esme scoffed. “It’s me who should apologize. Having reason to lie doesn’t make the lie noble. Laxius, I never knew him. I heard he was an upright man, if spineless. But Shioven... I met her, once. She was the type of woman you never really know, you understand? She did not want to be known. Neither of them—” She coughed. “These are the most words I’ve spoken in weeks. My throat is angry with me.”
“Let me get something for it,” Elloven said. She went to the cart that used to be full of liquor, but there was only a capped jug of water. “Do your nurses come hourly?”
“Twice daily,” Esme said after a generous sip.
“Well, that’s just not enough!” Elloven exclaimed in protest. “You can hardly hold a mug on your own.”
“Their charge is to ensure my comfort, love, not extend my life.” Esme chuckled. “Don’t look so startled. To speak of the end makes it more palatable. You’ll see. One day. Praise the Guardians, not for many years.”
Maybe that was true for her mother, who had lived many seasons, but Elloven hadn’t made peace with being resurrected, let alone dying. There was only one person who could understand, and she’d banished him from her life.
“I understand why you did what you did for Gennady and me, and I forgive you,” Elloven said. It was too late for the perfect words or heartfelt speeches. They weren’t any more real than a comfortable silence, and she saw with her own eyes how close Esme was to the end. What surprised her more was the way she felt peace rather than sadness. She loved Esme more then than she ever had, but she was ready to let her go. “Laxius’s and Shioven’s motivations aren’t important to me. I had a mother and a father who loved me, and that’s all that matters—or will ever matter.”
“Forgiveness is a powerful shield, my love, and I am grateful and humbled by yours.” Esme looked up at her with a dreamy smile. “Though it is less effective when used selectively.”
Elloven frowned.
“Do you not think I see the absence of light in your eyes?”
“When did I ever have light in my eyes?” Elloven asked with a bitter laugh. “Do you even remember?”
“The last time I saw you.” Esme didn’t rise to her cynicism. “You were in a bind, doubtless, but you were so filled with purpose, and with a true partner by your side.”
“Taven?”
Esme pinned her with a knowing stare.
She nearly choked. “Not Jesstin?”
“Something happened between you two.”
Elloven looked down at the bed. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Did he do something to you?”
“Mama.”
“Did he... confess something to you?”
“Why would you say that?” Elloven saw the answer in her mother’s eyes, but she would say no more until Esme did.
“Oh, I already know, love. I’ve known from the start.” Esme eased onto her back and gazed at the ceiling. “I never held it over him.”
“Never held what over who?” They had to be speaking of two different matters. Esme would never have forgiven Jesstin for murdering her son.
“Jesstin believed he was righting a wrong... a wrong that has shaped him, defined him, and tortured him. He’s a willful boy. Impulsive. A gift from his Edevane blood, I reckon, though the Skylarks aren’t much better. He has to live with what he’s done, and what greater penance is there for a decent man than that?”
“Mother, speak plainly.” Elloven swallowed hard. “Please.”
