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Whether because of her experience as a Garra or her knowledge of me as my amma, she knew. She must have sensed the change in me.

“She seems to breathe easier now,” Father says, his tone uncertain.

I will Amma to open her eyes. But she does not.

Looking at Father does not make this any easier. Although he must have shed tears about my mother, I was not old enough to remember them. I cannot recall ever seeing wetness in his eyes. I hope their last words were not said in anger, as the two disagreed on many things.

“She seemed well last eve,” I whisper, squeezing her hand but getting no response back.

“Aye,” he says, his apron still black with soot. Father always cleans himself, as I do, before coming inside, so it is alarming to see him this way in Amma’s bedchamber.

He looks up at me.

“I told her no.”

What is he talking about?

“I told Edrys of the invitation, and she begged me to tell you I was too tired to attend. When I realized what she was about, I told her it was completely unacceptable for an unmarried man to escort you, especially one not even from Murwood.”

That did sound very much like my father.

“She pleaded with me. And so I relented.”

I try to make sense of his words, but I cannot.

“Amma is dying, Father.”

He nods as tears well in my eyes, escaping onto my cheeks. When he looks behind me, I do not turn around but feel the bed sink next to me.

Kipp brings my head to his shoulder as the tears fall in earnest. My chest constricts as his arm goes around me. For a few moments, I give myself over to the sorrow, to the tears, and then I lift my head and look down.

Open your eyes, Amma. Give me one last bit of advice. Tell me how to live without you.

But she does not open them. As Father said, she does breathe easier, but it is little consolation. I tell Kipp so he is prepared.

“She is dying,” I whisper.

“I know.”

I lean forward to kiss my sweet Amma on the cheek, remembering something else she said to me last eve. “Goodnight, child. All will be well.”

Why had she not added “in Murwood,” as was her custom? And why did I not stay with her longer? Had I known, I would never have left this chamber . . .

A chill runs through me. I know before either Father or Kipp do. I know because the blood of the Garra runs through me. I know, even though I wish I did not.

Lying atop her chest, I wrap my arms around her and weep. Begging her to come back to me. I feel Kipp’s hand on my shoulder, and I hear but do not comprehend my father’s comforting words, all while I weep and weep and weep.

When I sit up finally, everything hurts. My heart most of all.

Refusing to leave her, even after Father and Kipp do, I sit with Amma for so long day turns into night. I turn both of them away multiple times. How can I leave when the next time I see her it will be on a ship that carries her out to sea, never to return again?

“Aedre?”

Though the sun has already fallen, the chamber is bright courtesy of candles someone, I know not who, has lit. But I would have recognized his voice even if I could not see him.

Vanni.

I jump from the bed, feeling a wave of relief that he has not yet left Murwood. Sometime earlier I had thought of him. Wondered if he and Kipp had spoken after all. But the thought came and went, drowned in the well of sorrow within me.