Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,85
stood up from the chair and she stumbled, reaching for her head. She quickly sat down again. “Well, then again, you’ve grown stronger.”
What about the vision? Maeve asked mentally, unable to voice her fear.
“I’ve accepted it and so should you.” I turned and addressed both my sisters who were hiding on the steps eavesdropping.
Maeve looked uncomfortable but nodded.
Rhea patted her closed fist against her hip. “So, how do we get Aura back there in time to save the day? I won’t have time to craft another item.”
“Leave that to me,” Mother said. “But promise me, Aura, that you’ll try to understand why I did what I did.”
Anger burned within me at the injustice of what I’d learned, but I held silent.
I couldn’t agree. I just pinched my lips and glared up at the woman who raised me, and who had lied to me. “I make no promises.”
“I understand.” She turned to her other daughters. “You two, go back to bed. We’ll deal with this in the morning.”
“Okay,” Rhea said, yawning and retreating up the stairs.
“That’s not fair!” Maeve raised her voice in protest. “We should go too.”
“You will obey me,” Mother snapped.
Maeve dropped her head and kept silent.
I softly tiptoed up the stairs to my room and felt Maeve keep pace with me. When I went to crawl in my bed, she took her shawl and wrapped it around my shoulders and tucked me in before going and laying on Eden’s empty bed.
“Maeve—”
“Hush. Just let me stay here. I promise I’ll only think happy thoughts.”
I snorted and rolled over and was instantly hit with Maeve’s disgruntled anger.
Happy. I’ll be happy for her. Going on an adventure . . . without me. Causing havoc . . . without me.
Her thoughts were not cheerful, but they were familiar, like the soothing sound of rain during a thunderstorm. Eventually, I fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Come, Aura, it’s time.” Mother stood at the edge of my bed, a leather bag slung over her shoulder.
“It’s the middle of the night?” Maeve grumbled, rolling over and looking out the window to the dark sky.
“It’s magic hour. The best time to open a portal between the realms,” Mother replied.
I shot up in bed and looked at my mother in awe. “A portal?”
Mother rubbed her arm and looked uncomfortable. “I am doing what I swore I’d never do.”
“That’s dark magic,” Maeve said in wonder.
“And very dangerous. Remember what happened with Rosalie when she tried to close one. The backlash scarred her for life.”
“And you should never take magic for granted.” Mother turned to me. “Quickly, get dressed.”
Maeve lunged off the bed and hurried for the stairs. “Not you, Maeve,” she said.
Maeve halted, her momentum almost carrying her down the stairs. She gave a pleading look to Mother.
“You will stay here,” she ordered.
Maeve whined and headed over to the bed. In a dramatic show, she plopped down on the bed and grumbled at us.
Faster than a fairy chasing a sunbeam, I changed into a black overdress that laced in the front over my long sleeve chemise; my hair I left long, as I didn’t waste time braiding. I borrowed Rosalie’s midnight blue cloak as the thorns had destroyed mine. As I was leaving the room to head downstairs, Maeve sent a parting thought.
Leave a window open . . . please.
I winked in response.
Mother was waiting for me, a lantern in her hand, and dressed in a blood-red cloak embedded with gold symbols. It gave her a foreboding aura.
Hack, who was curled by the fireplace, looked up as I moved near him. Be careful.
I know. I leaned down and gave him a pet behind the ears.
At first, he was standoffish, but then he lost himself to my touch and purred.
Missed you.
I missed you too.
You’re not coming back, are you?
I thought back to the vision. I don’t think so.
Hack leaned forward and gave me the most feline appreciations. A head bump. You’re my favorite.
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes at our last farewell. You’re my favorite too.
A sigh of regret followed, and I glanced toward Clove, our brownie. She held out her little stubby hand and waved goodbye to me. The tears refused to stop.
Mother headed out the door, and I followed, but not before secretly cracking the kitchen window. As we crossed the threshold, mother turned and put a locking spell over the tower to seal any doors and windows that were already shut, making them impossible to open. And I knew she