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Stars, Betrys had been part of our family for almost a year. I’m sure it pained her to speak those words as much as it did me to hear them. With an internal sigh, I stabbed the carrot on my plate, chewing as my mother’s plate grew cold beside mine. It was a sight I’d grown familiar with, but soon there would only be absence.
“I’ll start coming earlier in the mornings until she nears the end,” Betrys continued. “If you need any help to make burial arrangements, I can bring some information tomorrow. We can look at it together.”
My fork clinked against the plate, and I sat back to meet her soft gaze, my chest tightening. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate her offer—I did—I just hated how we were there because of my mistake. The main thing I was responsible for.
“Thanks, Betrys.” I smiled. “I can take it from here. You should get home before this weather worsens.”
She began gathering her things when Mother shuffled out of her room and shuffled towards the table. Betrys set her bag on the floor and tried to assist her, but my mother shook her off.
“Oh, no need to bother. I got it,” Mother said as she pulled out the chair. “I may be dying, but I can still manage a few things.”
I gave Betrys a knowing look, silently thanking her for her patience as she pulled her hood over her head and slipped out the front door.
“Mm. Doesn’t this smell delicious?” Mother marveled, fanning the napkin onto her lap. “Lamb—my favorite. It’s been a while since you’ve made this.” She stirred the mashed potatoes, helping herself to a large spoonful. “What’s the occasion? Don’t tell me you dropped your father’s ring down the sink again.”
I chuckled. The fury that feeble woman emitted that day had shaken me to the core—there wasn’t a doubt in my mind she’d have murdered me if we weren’t able to retrieve it.
I wasn’t ignorant. Cooking my mother’s favorite meal tonight wouldn’t ease the wrath. Not after I told her what I was planning. But I hoped it’d lessen the blow.
“Did you have any more episodes today?” I ripped into a piece of lamb, working up the nerve to tell her what I’d planned this time.
She, like most in Wendover, was terrified of the fae. For a moment, I debated not telling her, but my conscience talked me out of it. If I didn’t return…
“No, the pain elixir Mari gave you did wonders.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “It knocked me out almost immediately. I guess she figures I can’t be in pain if I’m asleep.”
The clatter of silverware scraping against our plates filled the beat of silence that followed. My throat dried. I was more of an ask for forgiveness, not permission, type of person, and the inevitable argument looming ahead had me on pins and needles.
“I went to the bookstore today,” I finally said, taking a sip of water.
“Is that so?” Mother poked at her carrots. “Don’t you already have enough books?”
“You can never have enough books, Mother.”
“Tell that to the five bookshelves bowing from the weight of all yours.” She pointed her fork at me and shook her head. “Did anything catch your eye?”
I shoveled more lamb into my mouth to bid myself time, mulling over the best way to tell her. “Yeah, actually.” The following words rushed out before I could retreat from them. “A grimoire. It was so strange too, like someone knew I needed it and put it there for me to find. It detailed how to brew an elixir using nightingale, a magical?—”
“Enough.” She slammed her hand on the table, startling me. “What did I tell you about reading those fairytales? Filling your head with ridiculous ideas.”
My eyebrows pulled together. “It’s at least worth trying!”
“This conversation is over.” Her fork stabbed into the lamb. “My life is not worth yours—put an end to whatever you’re thinking.”
Frustration itched to the surface as she continued eating, and my grip on the fork tightened. I wasn’t afraid, hiding books under my mattress, anymore. I wouldn’t allow her to be taken from me.
“So, I should sit back and do nothing? Why? Why can’t you ever accept my help?”
“Because I’ve never asked for it!” Her eyes cut into mine—a look I hadn’t seen since I was a child, and my chin quaked. “The fae are more cruel and evil than anyone can imagine. Do you know what they’d do to you over there, girl?” A flash of pain crossed her features. There was something she wasn’t telling me—I could feel it in my bones.
“Have you—have you met one before?”
“I said this conversation was over, Elowyn.” Her fork clanked against the plate as she set it aside, done talking and done with dinner. “Let it go. All of it,” she demanded.
Maybe it was pure stupidity to push. Maybe it was months and weeks’ worth of bottled-up fear and anger and grief. But this conversation was far from over.
