a way to love someone she has only known as a brute of a man? Could she understand that even though he took me from her, there’s a gentle and thoughtful side to him? That he sent Poppy back, and stayed with me when I was weak after the throne because he cared, and cooks bacon, and does that thing with his tongue that I—
I blush and turn back to the ocean, the heat reaching all the way to my ears. “I don’t know.”
“What do you think it was?” Mother isn’t letting me get out that easily.
“Love,” I admit.
“Tell me why you think that?” she says in that plain voice, void of any clues as to what she might really be thinking.
I take a deep breath, and tell her about my time in Midscape. Unlike the Keeper, who got the necessary overview of basic facts, I tell my mother everything but the moments we shared at the cottage that still make me blush. She hears of every ugly, beautiful, and improbable emotion I discovered within those gray castle walls.
My voice is as raw as my heart when I’m finished and stars are blooming in a distant sky.
“I see,” she says thoughtfully.
The silence that follows is heavy in my throat and hard to swallow. I stew in agony and my mother has an enigmatic smile on her face as she looks out over the dark waters that span between us and Lanton.
“What’re you smiling about?” I finally ask.
“Many things. I’m smiling because I’m still very proud of my daughter, for being strong and capable. For doing something that’s so impressive I can hardly comprehend it.” Mother had been a little lost when I tried to explain the Fade, redwood throne, and seasons both the first time and this time. “I’m smiling because I’m happy my daughter found somewhere she belonged and could be happy. Really, that’s all a parent ever wants to hear.”
“But…” Was I happy? The image of Eldas floating in the water of the pool at the cottage while I tended to the garden drifts across my mind. I think I was.
“So, what’re you going to do now?” She ignores my hesitation.
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
“Are you going to go back to Midscape?”
I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “I can’t leave.”
“Why?”
“I can’t leave you and Father.”
“Darling one…” She wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Every child must eventually leave. Sometimes, it is to a house down the street. Other times, it is to somewhere very far away. But if that child ends up where they belong, and are happy and loved…that’s all a parent wants.”
Her words sting in a nostalgic sort of way. It’s the same feeling as when summer ends for a child, the same feeling I had when I looked at my old room. It hurts because of how happy I was here, yet know I can’t be any longer.
“I can’t abandon Capton’s needs.”
“Capton will be fine,” she insists.
“You had Poppy.” I look at her with a bit of an accusatory stare. “Poppy is gone and she won’t be coming back. Now who will look after the elderly of Capton? The sick? The wounded?” Mother opens her mouth but I continue hastily. “And don’t say that people will just be happy for me. They deserve to get back what they invested in me. Everyone sacrificed so much—you and Father too. If I left, I wouldn’t be putting the academy education everyone bought me to use.” I’d let you down, I want to say, but can’t bring myself to.
She takes a deep breath. I can tell just from the way she inhales that she has a lot of thoughts she’s about to share. I brace myself.
“Firstly, it sounds to me like you already put that education to use by saving all of Midscape and stopping the cycle of future queens. That’s a pretty good outcome of your studies. If anyone has earned a rest, it’s you.”
“But that’s not…”
“Not what you went to school for?” Mother arches her eyebrows in a don’t mess with me, young lady sort of way. “Not explicitly, but a worthy application and outcome of your studies, don’t you think?”
“But, healing—”
“Yes, this matter of healing. Foremost, we did manage just fine and will continue to with or without you. Luella, you are talented, and an amazing help, but the town doesn’t need you to survive.” Her sad but strong words shake me to my core. I grow still,