Page 105 of A Blightress of Wrath
Iswallowed, wishingIcould send him this image of our daughter, her deep blue eyes lulling asIsang to her in my arms, continuing the song that came from her grandmother, sung long ago in a little cabin in theHallowMarshes.
“Softlydoes hum,
Thebee to the sun,
Flyinginto the summer breeze.
Shylydoes bloom,
Thebabe in the womb,
Arrivinginto the summer breeze.”
PartFive
SEVENTEEN YEARS AFTER
Theonly thingIcan grasp is the cold.
Itbeckons me through the years in the silent chill that is the absence of him.
Whenwe are ready, when the frost has burned with the fury of our loss, she will pay.
AndIwill save him.
Iwill save him.
Iwill save him.
Chapter47
Saelyn
Mymother,my strong, beautiful mother, did not let go of my hands as she told me the story of my birth.
Shespoke of the pain, the trauma she and others had endured, and the lives lost that night.
Shespoke of my father.
Forthe first time in my seventeen years, she spoke of his love, of his kindness, of his sacrifice so thatImay live a life in peace, never looking over my shoulder for theBlightressto descend.
Shespoke of the months after and how she wouldn’t let anyone near me.Shehad carried me everywhere, even in the meetings where she would project herself fromFelgrento theQueen, theLady, and theMadameto discuss building an army of channelers and conduits trained in warfare against theBlightress.Shespoke of how she conjured her shield through the depths of the roots ofFelgren, keeping theBlightressand her monsters out of the forest for all seventeen years of my life.
Shespoke of how she manipulated the seasons with her line of fae magic, forcing them to begin or end, syncing as well as she could with the time that passed outside of the forest to ensure that my seventeen years were approximately the same years my father spent in theBlightress’slands.
Shespoke of how she lied, just like my father had asked her to, telling everyone on the isle thatBaronRevichwas killed by theBlightresson the night of my birth.Everyonehad believed her, though there were four who knew the truth.
Shespoke of the hardest days, glimpsing his face in mine, hearing his laughter and his humor in mine.Shespoke of the woman she used to be, the womanIdid not know.
“Whenwe find him, we will return toFelgrenand all will be as it should have been,” she promised through her tears, squeezing my hands as we knelt on the floor of her room in theSpire.
“Howdo we find him,Mama?”Icried. “Howdo you know he is truly still alive?”
Shetapped her chest. “Here.Ourcompanion bond remains, andIfeel him here.”
Takingmy hand, she pressed it to where her heart beat.
“How—”Ithought for a moment, wording my next question carefully. “Howcould he be alive in the cavern of her heart for so long?Howcould he survive such a thing?”
