you, I would. Even if it meant that I would ache from the pain of losing you again. But this, this is your home, your true home, Analia, and we need you. Soran told me… about the binding.”
I stared guiltily at her, wishing she could give me back my life. But I knew it was an impossibility.
“Is it true? Did you bind with Calixto Shadowmoore?”
“It’s true,” I admitted softly. She touched her face, horrified. “I wish I could say that I didn’t know what it meant, but I did. I knew what I was doing. I-I didn’t think there would be another tomorrow for me. If I’d known, known he would die for me, I would’ve never jumped from that cliff. I love him.”
“I know of what you speak.” She sighed and dropped her hands to her lap. “I, too, once loved like that.”
“Zaros?” I asked, his name burning my lips.
“Yes.” She looked out to the kingdom beyond the palace walls, the many buildings and roads spreading out endlessly—a sea of life, of bustle.
“What happened?” I inquired, desperate to know anything I could.
“We met at a ball,” she reminisced, a tiny smile touching her lips at the memory. “He was so handsome and charming. It was love at first sight. I was drawn to him in a way I cannot explain. He felt the same, or so he said. He came to me, and we danced the night away together. He kissed me under the stars in the palace gardens.”
She looked whimsical as she recalled the details only she could see.
“That doesn’t sound like the same Zaros,” I commented.
“It wasn’t. It isn’t. Not anymore, anyway.”
“What happened that you two couldn’t be together?” I pressed, recalling the details Calix had relayed to me weeks ago.
“We planned to wed, even if it meant running away together,” she continued. “As you’re becoming accustomed to, we don’t always get a choice in Winterset about who we marry, at least not royalty. Being of a Seelie court, marrying Unseelie was unheard of. Even treacherous. My father refused to make arrangements with Zaros’s father, King Ulric. I was still very much available to whoever could provide my father, King Klevian of Asmite of the light court, with the most appealing offer.”
“Offer,” I scoffed, already too familiar with it.
“Money, power, expanse to the kingdom,” she explained sadly. “It always boils down to who has more, who controls the most, who can give the most. A name, a title, a legacy if you will.”
“So, your father chose money and power over your love for someone? Over your heart?” I asked, disgust dripping from my voice.
“He did,” she sighed. “It’s not the worst thing, though. I got your father, and he is a good man. I love him.”
“But you didn’t love him at the time,” I pointed out. “Your true love was taken away from you. How… why did you marry m-my father over Zaros?”
“Because I was a princess of Winterset, and I had a duty to my people, the people of Asmite. Far worse would come from me marrying Zaros than not, or at least that was what we all thought at the time.”
“But you still haven’t said why,” I urged.
“Aside from the politics, traditions, and money side of it, I did it because my mother was dying, and she asked me to as her final wish.”
“I-I thought people pretty much lived forever here,” I rebutted, confused.
“Ah, we’re like any other people of any other world, Analia. We could be called immortal because our lives are so long, but we can die from sicknesses, murder, war, suicide.”
“How though? Gregor—” I started.
“Is a healer, but he is not a god,” she mused. “And he is but one man and cannot heal all. Sometimes there are things that cannot be healed. Some diseases reach a point where our magic cannot touch. Some wounds are too deep. To every beginning, there is an end, even if that end is thousands of years off.”
“Thousands of years?” I choked out.
“Sometimes, yes.” She smiled.
“How old are you?” I wondered, silently scolding myself for sounding rude, but she was my mother, and I figured I had a right to know.
“I’m nearly three hundred years old,” she answered, gauging me for a reaction.
I nearly choked on my freshly refilled tea. “Three hundred?” I sputtered out.
“Yes, your father is roughly the same, give a few years,” she continued, grinning. “Soran will be celebrating his one hundred and thirtieth birthday in the coming days.”
“I-I can’t believe this,” I