Page 59 of Of Blooming Embers
But these were thoughts for tomorrow.
Tonight, I’d relish being in this place with people I cared for. I’d savor Gavrel and I beginning anew.
My eyes caught a glint of silver at the opposite end of the dancing space. Neoma smiled dreamily, her chin lifted in a stubborn line as she sipped her drink and studied the crowd. On my tiptoes, I kissed the base of Gavrel’s jaw. “I’ll be back.” He followed my line of sight and nodded. His stare lingered as I made my way over to her.
“Marek mentioned you wanted me to find you,” I said with a smile.
“You remind me so much of my eldest,” the older woman replied as I approached. The music wove around us, her words almost drowned out by the lilting notes. Gliding over my face and hair, her eyes misted as she took a nearby seat. My stomach flipped. I’d never seen Yaya look nostalgic. Or was it regretful? I wasn’t sure.
“Oh?” I took a seat next to her, scraping my chair closer so I could hear her better.
She took a sip from her cup and then balanced it on her knee, fingers gripping the metal tightly. “She had the same coloring. As did I once upon a time.” She clucked her tongue, fingers idly toying with the end of a graying curl.
My heart flipped, emotions welling in my throat. She wasn’t one to open up much, and I wondered if the tart mireberry wine had anything to do with it. I leaned forward, placing my hand delicately on hers. “Tell me about her.”
She glanced at me with a sentimental smile, and her hand turned, weaving her fingers with mine. Her touch was soft and warm. She watched the others commune and laugh, a dreamy look slackening the usually stoic line of her mouth. The reflection of the tiny, flickering orb lights danced in her burnished eyes, making them appear to be a smoldering campfire.
“One time she wept. She wept when her younger sister brought home fireflies in a jar. We called her ‘Bug’ after …” A quiet sound of amusement tumbled from her. She rocked, digging her heels into the floorboards as if bracing herself against the memory.
“Marek’s mother, Deitra, was my sensitive one. But …” She crushed her eyes closed, breathing deeply. I slipped my other hand under our joined ones, encasing hers. Her lashes fluttered open. “But as soon as Bug caught sight of Deitra’s lightning bugs, my oldest broke into a fit of tears. It’s one of the few times I ever saw her cry … beyond her earliest turns. She was eleven turns old.”
Yaya ran her thumb under her lashes and smiled wistfully. “She scolded Deitra, who was nine at the time, saying it wasn’t right to keep such majestic creatures trapped. Deitra freed them at once and never caught fireflies again. But they’d watch them for hours, giving them names and telling stories about their imagined adventures.”
My brows squeezed together as a deep sadness burrowed underneath my ribs. It made me think of Letti. “What happened to them?”
“Deitra passed on moments after giving birth to Marek. At least, that’s what I was told. I hadn’t known she was with child. You see, she ran away with her lover when she was twenty. And this was turns after we’d lost Bug. Deitra was never the same after her sister disappeared. She found solace in bad decisions and worse men. I didn’t know how to help her.” Her mouth twisted as if she held a bitter lemon between her teeth. “I failed both my children. But I’ll be damned if I do the same to my grandchildren.”
Unease crept over my skin, mingling with the prickles skittering over my nape.
“I didn’t even know my grandson until he was already a broken, unruly teenager. Made his way here, escaping whatever voidish nightmarehe grew up in. Said he’d had a dream, and it guided him to me. There was no doubt he was my kin—looks just like his mother—and well, it’s clear he’s inherited our family’s gifts. The Augur confirmed it anyway.” Her hand slipped from mine, and she waved it in the air dismissively. Yaya turned to face me, her eyes boring into mine as she took a deep breath and cleared her throat.
My heart stopped, the air in my lungs throbbing as I forgot to breathe. “What was Bug’s name, Neoma?”
Ignoring my use of her real name, her hand cupped the side of my cheek briefly before she drained her cup and set it on the ground. “I know my eldest is alive. The Augur shared a secret with me earlier as she’s wont to do. That blasted female isneverwrong.”
I swallowed the burning taste pooling in my throat. “What was her name, Neoma?” I snapped, my heart slapping against its cage.
A dry laugh tumbled from her, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Slowly, she looked at me from under long, light-colored eyelashes. “It’s Yaya to you, girl, as you well know.” I squinted at her, and she smirked. “Our family has been hiding behind the Skiya name—among others—so long, our true surname feels forbidden, as if the Fates’ll curse me if I dare speak it.”
My arms crossed snugly over my chest, and I counted the pulse thumping in my neck, trapping my ember within me. She sat straighter, hands clutching her knees. “But we’re cursed as it is. It’s high time we’re honest with one another before our time runs out. My eldest’s name was Maya. Maya Nightshade. And I’m told you’re my kin.”
24
SURREALITY
SERYN
The breath within my lungs whooshed out. One hand covered my mouth, and the other gripped my middle as if I could stop my body from splintering.
“Told her, eh?” Marek strode behind Yaya—grandmother?!—and leaned against a doombark. “How you holding up, cousin?”
I shot out of my chair, tipping it over with a clatter as I stabbed my finger at the infuriating prick. He held up his hands in surrender, and Yaya stood next to him, widening her stance. “Evenheknew? Are you bloody kidding me?” A wall of cold shock and betrayal blocked any sense of diffidence and empathy for the woman.
“Why are you doing this? I’m not alegacy. I’m not aNightshade. Where’s my mother? How do you know she’s alive? How do I get to her? Who are you?” I cried, my body chilling and beginning to tremble. My ember scratched at my bones, but at least I was now strong enough to keep it within as my mind spiraled. People were staring as I broke apart.
Solid but gentle arms wrapped around me from behind. I meltedinto the familiar scent of leather and wood. “I’ve got you. Breathe,” Gavrel murmured, rubbing his hand over my arm.
“What’s going on?” Breena demanded, her eyes shooting daggers at Marek as she and Rhaegar joined us.
