Page 40 of Haunted

The only one I can think of to give me answers is Mother Siana. She’s been an emrys for over sixteen hundred years. She lived in the immortal dragon realm before coming to this mortal planet. She will have answers.

When my body stops throbbing and trembling, I retire to my chambers to clean up. I won’t check on the empress. She will be fine. It’s not because I fear her.

On some level I do.

I wait until the stronghold is quiet, when all are asleep, including the empress. At least I hope she’s asleep.

I utter an incantation that cloaks my spiritual presence. No one will be able to detect my light, and then I slip down the hall and find Mother Siana’s chambers.

She doesn’t usually stay here, but she has her own set of rooms for the occasional visit. I might say that’s because mother and daughter don’t see eye to eye. Or I might say that’s because Mother Siana represents everything that’s good and light in this world, and her daughter is the exact opposite.

How Siana has remained the only pure emrys bearing light in a world of half-emrys—her children—is a mystery. But she has, and many revere her as a god. Mostly the humans, because she’ll live forever and she spends her days healing them, with the gift of her light, for which they are most grateful. She does not squander it.

No one is present outside her chambers. So she’s not a prisoner. I check with my light before entering. Mother Siana is alone, so I creak the door open. She’s lying on the bed with her eyes closed.

I inch closer, careful not to make a sound.

Her chest rises with shallow breaths. Her normally pale skin is practically translucent. She has lost much blood, and though she’s been healed from her many cuts, healers can’t make blood. It’s our one drawback. Though we are immortal, we can die if we lose enough blood or if we succumb to our injuries before our accelerated healing catches up.

“Mother Emrys,” I whisper as I slide into a chair at her bedside.

She cracks an eyelid. “Caedryn,” she says without looking at me. Her voice sounds dryer than the desert sands of the Great Divide. “You are very hard to read.” She swallows. “Full of many secrets.”

I pick up a cup of water from her side table and hold it to her lips.

After a few sips, she whispers, “I do not know why my daughter trusts you.”

“Does she now?” I try not to scoff. If Mother Siana believes the empress trusts me, then it must be true.

“She has trusted no one before now.”

“Not even Meuric?”

“They have an understanding.” She smiles weakly.

“You love her despite all she’s done to you. Is it true she killed her father, your first husband?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve forgiven her,” I say bluntly.

“We must forgive, or it eats away at our souls.”

I close my eyes as I think of the anger in my heart. It has left a canker in my core. It fuels my dark power. What would it feel like to forgive? “Then you are more gracious and holier than us all,” I finally say.

“Open yourself to it. With forgiveness comes trust.”

“It matters not if I forgive her.” Do I need to forgive her to love her? How can I love her without forgiving her?

Why do I even think I love her?

Once again, I acknowledge that the empress has twisted what’s true and normal in my mind. Mother Siana can help me understand. I take a deep breath before I unload. “We’ve bonded somehow. I don’t know how it’s possible, but we have.”

I tell her of our bond when she asks for details.

“It may have happened because the Dark Master wished it,” Siana whispers. “It is impossible to understand all his powers. As a creator, he possesses traits we do not understand, abilities that we can’t fathom how they work, such as your bond.”

“So the Dark Master suspects me of being disloyal to her. He wants to see inside me since I’m so closed off.”

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