Page 59 of Drawn in Blood
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean?—"
“Don’t apologize,” Aoife replied, smiling as she sat beside her and stroked her hair. “I wasn’t there when you needed me, and that is something I will never forgive myself for.”
Ember shrugged, forcing a small smile. “I turned out alright,” she assured her. “It wasn’t all bad.”
“You get that from your father,” Aoife sighed, the light from the fire dancing across her porcelain skin. “He always knew howto find little pockets of joy where there seemed to be none.” She laughed as she shook her head. “Used to drive me mad the way he was always smiling, even when I didn’t feel like there was anything worth smiling about.”
Ember chewed on her bottom lip. “Can I ask you something, Mum?” Her stomach did a flip as Aoife’s brow scrunch.
“Of course, Mo Stór.” She nodded.
Ember drew in a breath as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap. “How did you not know it wasn’t me?” She whispered it under her breath, like it was a secret. “When you identified Dad and me,” she took a steadying breath, imagining a body so like her own lying on a cold slab in the morgue, “why didn’t you realize it wasn’t me you were looking at?” She couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t understand—because she knew Eira would recognize her. She knew Eira could pick her out in a sea of redheads with freckles in a heartbeat. And that realization terrified her.
Aoife’s face fell. “She was identical to you.” Aoife shook her head. “Everything I could see looked exactly like you, down to the smattering of freckles across your nose and cheeks. Had I thought, even for a moment, that it wasn’t you, I never would have rested till I found you.” Her voice was serious, pain and determination warring in her eyes, and Ember knew she meant it. She shook the thoughts away. She should just be grateful they were together now. Picking apart the past wouldn’t change anything. It didn’t matter now.
Aoife ran her hands through Ember’s hair, picking up strands and beginning to cross one over the other as she hummed. “I used to put braids in your hair every morning when you were a wean.” She smiled. “You never could sit still long enough for me to do many, but enough to finish the spell.”
“The spell?” Ember asked, brow raised.
“Aye,” Aoife nodded, “we didn’t practice much magic after we left the island, but protection braids were something we never left the house without putting in your hair.”
Ember smiled, finally feeling her body relax as her mother hummed to herself, weaving small strands of her hair in and out of each other.
“A spell of safety here I cast, a word of might to hold me fast, a shield before me and behind, to right and left, protection bind. To me may no harm or ill whit come. By power of three, my magic is from. With the sacred light around me, as above, so below, blessed be.”
She continued, making several more braids throughout Ember’s hair, lovingly kissing her on the head when she was done.
“Your poor father tried so many times to braid your hair, but he never could figure it out. He was a good father. He always made sure you knew you were safe and loved.”
“His laugh is what I remember most,” Ember grinned, “and the voices he made when he told his stories.” She swallowed, her throat tight. Tears pooled at her lower lash as she bit her lip, steadying her breathing.
“He never failed to make sure you had no idea about adult problems,” Aoife said. “He loved you very much.”
Ember closed her eyes as she nodded, choking back the tears that were threatening to break through.
“It’s late, Mo Stór,” Aoife said, as she kissed her on the head. “Time for bed.”
Ember nodded as she gave her mother a hug and walked toward the stairs.
“And don’t forget to take your contacts out,” Aoife called out, “or your eyes will dry.”
Ember stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as she turned around.
“You know about my eyes?” she asked, swallowing dryly.
“I’m your mother,” Aoife replied. “There are very few things about you that I don’t know.”
Chapter 17
A Golden Cage
“Killian Vargr, is your Vegvisir broken?” Ember huffed, as she carried her breakfast plate to the sink.
Killian leaned against the counter, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket, and took a bite. “Of course not,” he replied, as he chewed.
“Then, why on earth,” Ember sighed, “would you not Helio before just popping over?”
Killian shrugged as he took another bit from his apple. “We have a lot to do today. No time to waste, Starshine.” And with that, he tossed his apple in the bin and made his way toward the stairs in the foyer.
