“He could have been killed!” Brannal exclaimed. “Keeping him in ignorance of his heritage was dangerous!”
Her face twisted. “Thanks to you and your Mage Warriors!”
“And the rest of society!” Brannal snapped back.
Yannoma scowled. “So rather than allowing him to live the life his father wished, I should have made him afraid of everything and ensured you never met?”
This, finally, took a little bit of the wind out of Brannal’s sails. His expression softened as he looked at Perian.
“I can’t ever wish that. But I do wish that no harm had come to him because of the Mage Warriors and all our prejudices. Things did not always go smoothly for us.”
“And you wish to blame me for that rather than yourself?” Yannoma asked acidly.
Perian wrapped his hands around Brannal’s, twining their fingers together.
“We figured everything out,” Perian said, sounding much calmer than Brannal or Yannoma. “It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it’s in the past, and we can’t change it—and even if we could, what might we undo if we did? Besides, if Keecanmake some of these changes, if he at least genuinely tries—well, I’d take all of it just for that, you know?”
Brannal looked for a moment like he was still going to argue, and then he sighed and nodded.
Perian turned back to his mother. “That’s how you knew about my father’s death?”
Yannoma nodded again. “I found out the same way you did, I imagine—the nightmares.”
Perian straightened as Brannal stiffened.
“The nightmares?” Perian repeated. “Is that why I dreamed of the fire? Why I usually have pleasant dreams? Father always used to say—”
She finished the sentence for him. “That nightmares take away bad dreams. Yes. A truth that is generally forgotten here. Theycanoverwhelm a human. Since so many humans ward against them with their little earth talismans, it’s harder for them to find the energy they need, and they’re more likely to swarm.”
Yannoma shrugged. “But in their… natural state, let us say, they will simply pull away a little of that dream energy. They’re attracted to the stronger, negative energy. And when they consume the nightmares, you have good dreams as a result. Not even we entirely understand their connection to one another, but they seem to be able to wordlessly communicate. On rare occasions, they can convey specific messages through dreams.I doubt that it was intended, but if your father died with the nightmares, their energy could have combined to transmit the message to those he cared about.”
“I always wondered if it was real,” Perian said softly.
“Your father loved you. He would have wanted you to know the truth.”
“And not wonder, as he did about you?” Perian asked gently.
“No doubt. He was a stubborn man.” She smiled faintly, a softer smile than Trill was used to seeing. “He mostly respected my lack of desire to stay with the two of you, but in the aftermath of my injuries, I feared he might overcome my good sense.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t have the support you needed,” Perian told her.
“Unlike so many of your fellows, you’re a good man.”
She continued to stare at him for a long moment, and then she gestured at the portrait of Perian and his father that hung above the fire.
“You’ve never looked at the other side of the painting.”
Perian blinked at her in confusion, and it was Brannal, taller than all of them, who reached up and lifted it down. When he turned it over, Perian’s breath caught.
It was a portrait of all three of them: Perian, his father, and Yannoma.
“I let him have his way,” Yannoma said softly, “even though I told him we could never be the family he wished. He said he wanted only the memory, something he could pass down to you once he explained everything.”
Perian reached out a hand that trembled, running it over the face of the man who stood in the middle of the portrait, arms wrapped around both the woman next to him and the little boy who couldn’t have been more than four or five.
“I don’t remember posing for this,” Perian whispered.
“Not with me, no. The artist composed it separately.”
