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“It didn’t do this earlier?” Daxen asks, and Vae shakes his head.
I wrench my eyes away from the two of them, but I can’t help the way my heart beats faster at the way they’re looking at me—with wonder and disbelief instead of the cruelty I’m accustomed to.
As though it’s mimicking my own heartbeat, the light from the symbols pulse quicker.
My gaze wanders the length of the basement, taking in what must be thousands of symbols painstakingly painted along the walls and ceiling.
But that’s not what has my knees buckling and a whine wrenching free from the depths of my soul.
It’s the stone altar, and the woman lying on top of it.
She’s absolutely still, with hair that would be identical to my own if not for the golden honey tone mine lacks. I don’t even need to see her face to know it’s my mother. I spent hours playing with that hair when I was a child, twisting it into knots when I was too young to understand what a braid was. It would always end up a tangled mess, but Mother would simply smile and tell me she’d never seen a more beautiful braid.
I don’t even think. I run.
“Idril, wait!” Caelan reaches for me a beat too late and misses.
I don’t answer or look back, not when I’m so close to my mother. I half fall, half trip the final few feet, barely catching myself on the edge of the stone plinth and nearly falling on top of her motionless form.
The sight of her guts me. It tears something apart inside me, letting an emotion I don’t normally let myself feel break free.
Fury.
She’s so much smaller than I remember; her skin is pale and wan, lips chapped and dry, the skin under her eyes sunken and bruised. I watch, holding my breath until I see the rise and fall of her chest. Her breaths are shallow and uneven, but I don’t even care. She’s breathing. Somehow, someway, she’s alive.
Alive. My mother is alive.
I want her to look at me. I want her to open her arms, and I want to crawl into her embrace just like I did when I was a child. I want to surround myself with my mother’s scent, warmth, and love, and stay there forever.
Just me and her, just like it’s always been.
“Mama?” I whisper, afraid to speak too loud. Afraid to make the slightest noise in case this is actually all a dream, and if I speak too loudly, I’ll wake up, and she’ll be gone, and I’ll be back in my room at my father’s estate, starving and freezing and alone.
“Hey guys?” Vae’s voice floats down from the stairs, and I feel Soren and Caelan’s attention turn toward the sound. I don’t acknowledge him. I don’t care what he has to say. Not when my mother’s lashes are fluttering, and her breathing is deepening, and I’m leaning in closer because—
Because—
For the first time in almost a decade, my mother—the mother I thought was dead—is looking right at me with eyes just a shade or two darker than my own. I inhale sharply, refusing to glance away from her unfocused gaze.
She blinks rapidly. Then, her gaze sharpens. Focuses. Brightens.
I’m suddenly aware of a distressed whine coming from the back of my throat. I bite down hard on my lower lip in an attempt to bite back the sound, but it’s useless. My shaking hands reach for hers, where they rest on her stomach.
The moment our fingers touch, she gasps.
“Severed spotted at the perimeter, coming in from the South and West. A fuck ton of them,” Vaelenor shouts.
“Mama,” I lean closer, wishing I could just climb up on this stupid stone dais so we can be together. She’s too far away!
No, Idril. Pay attention. You need to get her out of here.
Wait… did Vae say something about Severed?
“Caelan!” I try to get my Mate’s attention, but my mother’s hand squeezes mine—hard.
Before I can respond to the shocking strength of her grip, she lifts a shaking hand and reaches for my face, cradling my cheek with surprisingly warm, soft fingers. It’s a familiar gesture—one she’s done a thousand times before.
“My darling.” Her voice is raspy, and so beautiful I can barely believe it’s real. My lashes flutter at the sound. I feel like I’m hearing music for the first time after being told I’ll never hear it again.
