Page 45 of Sons of Sorrow
I gaped, stunned when I didn’t want to be, shocked that the headmaster would throw that in my face. They watched me from the silent darkness of their cowl, little wisps of mist escaping with their every breath. They had to know how much I was questioning my own nature, immersing myself in pools and tubs until my skin wrinkled.
Cornelius Butterworth rapped his knuckles on the table, clearing the tension even as he cleared his throat. “See how tall and strong the trees of the Wispwood grow, Lochlann Wilde. See how they reach for the sky, forming the Canopy you and your friends know so well. See how nature itself pushes through the cracks in the castle’s stone, from the floor, the walls, from every corner. They all feed on the milk of the Wispwell.”
I threw my hands up. “But how could Father have known that it would work on people? How could he be so sure? How can you all be so sure of the Wispwell’s power?”
Belladonna’s lips quirked with distaste, but she answered. “Because Headmaster Shivers is living proof. They are an emanation of the Wispwell.”
This time I was happy to be stunned. I stared slack-jawed at Headmaster Shivers, wishing I could penetrate the darkness of their cowl. All those rumors about them being born from a single breath, from a twist of burning incense. I never would have guessed. Like Ember, in fact, born in the oriel from a plume of fire.
“I was granted the gift of sentience,” said Shivers. “The wisps you see rising from the surface of the well, floating up to the Canopy itself? I was one of them, once. Why I alone became whole and near-human, I cannot say. But Cornelius and Belladonna found me in those early days, and the three of us pledged to stabilize the elemental oriels, secure the Wispwell, transform this into a place of learning. Of healing.”
Cornelius kneaded his forehead, his brow wrinkled with age. He’d always been the most powerful wizard I’d known. In the chamber’s ghoulish light, he was just an old man. “And then the Withering came, and at last it felt as if our efforts had come to serve some grander purpose after all.”
“Without its forest,” Belladonna said, “a tree is only a tree. The Wispwood has long helped its own, but thanks to the newly empowered Wispwell, we are now equipped to serve others as well.”
“But I still don’t understand why you couldn’t help us at the Wispwell.” I cast my finger around the table. “Doctor Fang at least showed up and fought with us. Everyone looks up to the three of you.”
All our friends had helped. Dr. Fang stuck by us throughout the battle, too. I was certain that even Satchel and Ember would have pitched in, if only the two of them hadn’t been so busy controlling and resisting the Withering.
Gods, to think that Ember’s nerve and bravery had enabled him to read the parchment, his sheer stubbornness warding off the worst of the plague. Satchel had asked to stay at his side in the infirmary, keeping him company as he recovered. Mr. Brittle and I could ask about the parchment’s meaning later, if Ember retained any of it. First, he needed to rest. He deserved it.
“Not that I expect you to believe me,” Belladonna said coldly. “But our wills are inextricably tied to the well itself. Why, Headmaster Shivers was born from its very depths. Battling your mother’s manifestation and risking damage to the Wispwell would result in dire consequences.”
“That’s all very nice,” I said, the sarcasm weighing down my words before I could stop myself. “But it doesn’t explain why good old Baylor Wilde shoved my mom into a kiddie pool and fucked right off.”
Only Headmaster Cornelius flinched. Headmaster Belladonna’s eyebrows raised as she stared me down. A curl of mist rose from Headmaster Shivers’s hood, an exasperated sigh.
“Your anger is misdirected, Lochlann.” Dr. Fang’s voice came colder, sterner than I’d heard in a long while. “Think. The last you heard of your mother, she was dead. Allegedly entombed on your father’s order without so much as an opportunity for you to say goodbye. Do you see where this is going?”
I shook my head, unsure of what to think. “This is just so much to process. I’m sorry for my tone. I know that all of you are only trying to help. But that means that Father — gods, why has he done this? Why didn’t he just tell me?”
When she spoke again, her voice was softer. Her hand reached across the great table, too far to touch mine, but I appreciated the gesture all the same. “Your mother is alive, Lochlann. Marina Wilde lives once more. Begin with that.”
“You’re right. I should be thankful.” Guilt, anger, shame, the tangle of it all burned at my ears, my cheeks glowing hot. I forced myself to look up at the headmasters, my many mentors. “I’d like to see her, please.”
“And see her you shall.” Headmaster Cornelius gave a small smile. “The castle infirmary is doing a fine job of helping your mother get back on her feet. You’ll find her at the entrance to the botanical gardens. Some time in the fresh air among the greenery would be most bracing.”
I blinked. “She looked so weak after the battle. You mean she’s recovered already?”
Headmaster Belladonna nodded. “Come now, Wilde. You know that we have some very fine healers at the Wispwood. Curious, how they’ve used Wispwater itself to help revivify her. Perhaps your mother’s condition responds well to the waters she has lived in all these years. Like marine life thriving in saltwater, if you’ll forgive the crude analogy. She is, after all, an elemental being herself.”
The nervous chuckle spilled out of my mouth like burbling water. “Hah. Wait. Sorry. She’s a what, now?”
Belladonna smiled, a rare and frightening sight. “What do you suppose caused the Wispwell to erupt? It was stirred by the reading of the accursed parchment, the energies so primal and raw that the water could do nothing but listen and obey. Why do you think your mother awakened? Why do you think she understood the words?”
An elemental. My mother was an elemental. Which made me — oh. Oh, gods.
Ten or so minutes later I stumbled out of the chamber and straight into Sylvain’s arms. The sweetheart of a man had insisted on standing in the corridor and waiting for my meeting to finish, even after Belladonna Praxis had almost melted his face off with one of her patented death-glares.
“An undine,” I breathed by his ear, feeling like my legs would give out from under me. “Gods above and below, Sylvain. My mother’s an undine. A creature of water. I’m half undine.”
Undines, possibly the most iconic of aquatic elementals. Nothing could better represent the raw power of water, its force and fury, its potential to dissolve and destroy. In every sense, the undine was the deepest of all water elementals. And my mother was one of them.
His arms tightened around me, the only force in the world propping me up in that moment. “And I’m a bastard. I suppose we all have our own problems.”
I laughed into his hair, our chests pressed together, though it didn’t really make me feel any lighter. “This is a lot to take in. I can’t even begin to understand what this says about my parents, though it pretty much seals that my father is a piece of garbage. Why would he lie about her death and dump her in the Wispwell?”
Sylvain’s hand rubbed my back as he shook his head, his hair tickling at my cheek. “I have no more answers than you do, oh summoner. But this does confirm that Aphrodite suspected something all along.”
