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Also his beloved wife Wren Tremayne
Died November 12th, 1730
Ex amore et veritatem venit pacem
I shivered and pulled my coat tighter. ‘Seven years without him,’ I said sadly. ‘Don’t you think it’s a shame that couples can’t go together? You’d think the universe would be kind and allow that, wouldn’t you? Instead of making one person wait years to be with the other again.’
‘I suppose so,’ he agreed.
‘Do you think they’ll be able to help us, Wulfram?’ I asked, nodding at the gravestone pensively.
‘Who? Pheonix and Wren?’
I wanted him to reassure me that, of course they would help us, but I knew, deep down, that he had no idea.
‘Supposedly they’re good people,’ he said cautiously. ‘Everyone says so. Our mother even named you after her so it must be true. I can’t see why they wouldn’t.’
‘Even once they know who Blaise is and what he did?’
He chewed his lip, thinking. ‘Honestly? I don’t know. But I promise you, I’ll put in a good word for him, and if they’re going to listen to anyone it will be the Great Guardian, right?’
I managed a smile and linked my arm through his. ‘Shall we go and say goodbye to our parents? Ashen and Laragh, I mean. And I’d like to say goodbye to Rodor, too. He was the man I’ve always thought of as Dad. It’s weird to think I’ll never be able to visit their graves again.’
‘Come on then.’
We left the chapel grounds and headed out towards the woods. It didn’t take us long to find the clearing where, today at least, the island had decided we would be allowed to see both gravestones. It was always pot luck, but clearly it knew this was my last chance and had been kind.
We both gazed down at the joint gravestone for our birth parents, Ashen Pendragon and his wife, Laragh. It was strange to think that we owed our very lives to these two people who were complete strangers to us. We had no idea what they looked like, apart from a small portrait of Laragh, and no real clue as to what sort of people they’d been, other than kind and not like the other Pendragons. And very much in love, naturally.
‘They gave up everything to be together,’ I said softly. ‘I think they’d have understood why I have to go back with Blaise.’
‘I think you’re right,’ he agreed. ‘I’m sure they would.’
I crouched down and kissed my fingers before pressing them to the gravestone.
‘Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad. I hope you’re together again and happy,’ I murmured, before doing the same to Rodor’s gravestone. ‘Thank you for taking care of me,’ I told him. ‘You were the only dad I ever knew, and I’ll always be grateful to you.’
I straightened and looked at my brother, my eyes blurry with tears.
‘Will you visit for me, Wulfram?’ I pleaded. ‘Will you lay flowers for me every year, so they know I haven’t forgotten them?’
‘I promise,’ he said. ‘Every year on your birthday.’
I gave a tearful splutter of laughter. ‘Just get it right,’ I said. ‘We don’t want any mishaps there.’
It had been funny, back in the summer, when we all turned thirty. Wulfram had always been told his birthday was August 26th, whereas I’d believed my birthday was September 7th, and Trinity thought she was born in October, on the 3rd.
It turned out we’d all actually been born on the 16th of August, so we were all slightly older than we’d believed.
Emrick, Ewella, and Aunt Keresen had been nothing if not thorough when they created their backstories for us.
‘August 16th,’ Wulfram promised. ‘Every year.’
‘White roses?’
‘Whatever you want.’
I nodded, satisfied, and slipped my hand in his. ‘Goodbye,’ I said, as we turned to leave. I glanced over my shoulder at the stones. ‘I’ll never forget you. Any of you. Thank you.’
