they’re born, and when they’re placed in our arms that first time, we whisper a name in their ear at birth?”
My eyes widened. “No. I didn’t know that. What was my name?”
For the first time, her smile was genuine. “Páňi.”
Tilting my head to the side, I questioned, “What does that mean?”
She laughed to herself. “Water.”
That one word made me feel like someone had pulled the chair out from under me. I gulped. “No way.”
She nodded. “Way. You have an affinity with it, child?”
“I-I must have. I’m fast when I race, but even more, if I heal, it makes me feel better.”
A hum escaped her, and it was followed by a crinkling sound as she opened another treat. “Mine was Mezóva.” At my questioning look, she murmured, “Roughly, it means grass. The Kinkades, when we have children, the names we choose for them, they’re often a source of solace. Good luck? Fate?” Genevieve shrugged. “Chance? I don’t know. If you have children, remember to do that. Doesn’t have to be in the old tongue. But a name that’s yours to give them, shared only by them with a chosen partner, it’s a precious rite of passage. You look at the baby, and the name will come to you—just don’t fight it.”
The words resonated with me, made me feel like we were linked in a way she didn’t particularly want, but a question tickled the tip of my tongue when she fell silent. I didn’t want her to stop talking. I could have listened to her for hours.
“Why does grass give you solace?” I inquired, wrinkling my nose.
“It means more than just grass, it means the outside.” Her shoulders tensed. “Always did love being outdoors.”
God, this place couldn’t have been more hellish for her.
Before I could say anything, before I could empathize or sympathize, she grated out, “Our line was given another curse.”
“I know this one,” I muttered. “Our ones.”
Her gaze darted to mine, and her glance was, for once, so penetrating that I froze. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Fuck.”
“What is it?”
“You met him already, didn’t you?” she rasped, the treat forgotten now.
“Y-Yeah. I met him.”
“You with him?” she demanded, and I didn’t understand her urgency even though I reacted to it.
“No. He’s married.”
A shaky sigh escaped her, and with trembling hands, she covered her face and muttered, “Thank God.” For a little while she rocked herself, and I just gaped at her. Wondering why it was good that I was denied my jílo.
Wasn’t that the whole point of a jílo, for God’s sake? That you were with them?
But, whatever I thought, my mother didn’t agree. She carried on rocking herself, muttering, “Thank God,” at least three more times.
I wanted to reach out, to touch her, hug her, get her attention, but I didn’t. I just stared at her, waiting for her to get over whatever the hell it was that had affected her so badly.
My gaze drifted to the old-fashioned clock above the gates I’d strolled through, and I saw I only had another ninety minutes with her. I knew that might have seemed like a long time, but I had eighteen years to make up for.
More than that, I had to come to terms with what I was.
What she’d helped make me be.
“Nicodemus was my one,” she murmured, making me jolt because she started speaking out of the blue, her face still covered by her hands. “Your nanny told me I shouldn’t be with him, and I knew it, but I loved him so much, Theodosia. I felt sure it wouldn’t go wrong with us.”
Go wrong?
Her hand snapped out all of a sudden and her fingers were in mine. “You must never be with him,” she snarled.
I jumped in surprise, not from her touch, which stunned me, not from her words, but from the, “No touching!” that was growled at us by a guard across the room.
She instantly raised her hand, didn’t bother to grace the guard with a look, just stared at me square in the eye. “You can’t be with him, Theodosia.”
“W-Why not?” Her surety filled me with dread.
“Because you’re not destined to be together. The gift is knowing who your soulmate is, the curse is never being able to be with them. If you are...things go wrong.”
“What kind of things?” I whispered, feeling horror and terror dawn inside me like an endless day.
“J-Just things. Nicodemus was a good boy. He loved me, and he loved you, but the second you were born, it was like