“And there’ll be help for them when the time comes,” said Marry. “But that’s not for you to worry about, Gen.”
Imogen had blinked, struggling to focus a moment before she nodded, wan and silent. It was wearing on her; on them both. The time had come, the Council agreed; they would ask no more of Imogen after today.
They were dressed, for the most part, in the traditional bruised blue, though its meaning had become somewhat muddied. Adeline could only guess at what each of them mourned as theyfollowed the procession of gards and the sparkling ice casket to the centre of the Laune. Their innocence perhaps; their sense of selves, months or even years of their lives.
There was not, however, a single tear shed for the Last Sorceress.
Avette’s mourning party was small, once the gards set down the casket and departed. Imogen and Mareda stood side-by-side at the foot of the coffin, Adeline and Kai at the head. Ger stood a little farther back, one hand on his hilt and the other tucked tightly in Jack’s. The Sealgair leader had chosen to remain on the banks, though they felt her unblinking eyes as keenly as though she had climbed atop the casket to peer at the corpse within.
Unsettled by the image, Adeline set her stack of books down over Avette’s unmoving face. Norris had delivered them to her following the confirmation of her mother’s wishes, the trunk of prized journals every monarch of Eisalaan had inherited for the past six hundred years. It had been the one symbolic rebellion he could stomach, it seemed—to keep Avette’s own journals out of her hands.
But Adeline could not keep them; didn’t muchwantto.
These false fairytales had built the Silver Kingdom, and brought it thundering so swiftly to its knees. She could not, in good conscience, allow them to make up the bricks of the new Eisalaan they built from the ruins.
So she lined the stack up neatly and took a step back.
“Should we say something?”
Imogen just stared at the coffin; Mareda’s face tightened, and Ger gave a flat purse of his lips. But it was Kai she’d been askingreally, and nobody objected when he stepped up and placed a hand on the coffin’s edge.
It took him a long time to collect his thoughts; to put into words six hundred years of suffering, and all that had befallen them since. Eventually, he sighed a curling gust of white breath and peered through the clear pane of ice.
“You will not be missed, Avette, but you will be remembered. From the First Frost to the Last.”
He stepped away, and Adeline took his chilled hand in both of hers, warming it briefly before they took their positions at Imogen’s side. She didn’t ask if they were ready; they heard the call, the careful spill of magic filling them each to the brim. Adeline’s veins full of blooming life, Kai’s of crashing tides, and Jack’s of roaring fire. And with the noise of the other elements cast aside, Imogen peeled off her lace glove and laid her bare palm over the coffin and the journals.
There was no slow crushing down to snow dust, no gust of Aera’s winds to carry the remains; the might of the mother’s gift saw her away like a shooting star, just the barest blink of silver in a grey sky. There was nothing left in her wake but the indentation of the casket. And with no further ceremony, the six of them turned and walked back to the shore in their pairs.
Fionnula disappeared between the trees at their approach, and Kai watched her go without comment. They’d spoken, Adeline knew. She’d been slow to get on board with the idea, knowing how the Sealgair had nursed and cradled the blame they placed on Kai, but Ceri had convinced her to let it happen. That Avette’s death had been enough, that they would now set aside their grudge in some way, and it seemed they had; Fionnula made no attempt to harm Kai in the days that had passed. In fact, she’d made every effort to avoid him as best she could. Her grudge, itseemed, could be set aside, but her distaste was another story. More importantly, to Adeline at least, was that Kai had walked away from their conversation notably relieved, if perhaps a little more pensive.
He squeezed her hand now as he tore his eyes from the treeline, and they turned together to accept Imogen’s call one final time. She knelt in the snow, her skirts moving like gentle seafoam in the breeze. Adeline felt the now familiar rush and creak beneath her skin, but it swept through her for barely a moment before the thunderclap crack of the ice drowned all else. The call faded, and Imogen stood, swaying back to be caught at once in Marry’s waiting arms.
At the catch of Adeline’s breath, Kai read her at once. He released her hand, and she kissed his cheek before she stepped up to the lake’s edge. Imogen stood with her head cradled in the crook of Marry’s neck, but she reached out one arm without looking around, drawing Adeline to her side until their curls tangled. Together in their huddle of three, they shared their warmth and watched as cracks spiderwebbed throughout the Laune.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” asked Adeline.
Imogen nodded
“It’s too much,” she said, her voice small and distant. “Every moment is a battle. I’mfightingto be here, even now, when there’s so much else pulling at me from all sides. I don’t want to be an all-seeing entity, I just want to make my pretty dresses and live my little life with Marry.”
Adeline shot a glance at her sister. Mareda’s cheeks were kissed pink, but she rolled her eyes when she caught Adeline’s smirk.
“I think you’ve earned that,” said Adeline. “Both of you.”
Mareda’s expression softened, and she reached past Imogen’s tuft of skirts to grasp and squeeze her sister’s hand. Just last night, they’d sat cross-legged together in Selma’s bed and spoke of what that life might look like; what it might mean for them both if Marry finally explored an existence outside the palace. At breakfast, she’d taken the keys to Adeline’s apartment, and later today, she would ask Imogen to help her make it a home.
And considering the way Marry had been carefully turning over the rings in their mother’s favourite jewellery box as they spoke, Adeline suspected there was more than one question on her mind.
“I think we all have,” said Imogen.
She untangled herself from the embrace of both sisters and stepped up to the Laune’s edge. It was slush now, wet and shining, shifting with the collapse of the larger shards of ice across the surface. She was silent a moment, and though she faced away from them, Adeline knew her eyes had likely hazed once more; she could feel that inexplicable shift all around them.
“Avette was wrong,” said Imogen faintly. “Magic cannot be finite. Magic is the Mother’s gift to us all. And a Mother’s love is infinite.”
Adeline didn’t know what to say, or why those soft words thickened her throat. She looked at Mareda, and with unspoken agreement, they each reached for one of Imogen’s cold hands. The warmth of their touch seemed to jolt through her like a shock. When she looked around, she was blinking hard, clearly fighting her way back to the mortal coil where they stood.
And then she squeezed.
