For a week after her meeting with High Master Elduin, Saphienne distracted herself by spending quality time with her mother and girlfriend, reasoning that pursuing other plans would be pointless until she knew for certain that the investigation had vindicated her. This was – she knew – really an excuse to pause and breathe after the rush since the summer solstice festival, letting events settle within while they were slowed without.

Taerelle had recommended the same. “I won’t tell you to pace yourself, prodigy: we both know you’re not going to. Why not let your momentum carry you forward while you decide on your direction? You won’t be so lonely, if you allow time for everyone to catch up with you.”

The diviner was a hypocrite, of course. Saphienne now understood her far better than when she’d been a child, and she knew that Taerelle was equally anxious and driven under her sharp exterior. She theorised that was why the wizard in black had such a high libido, seeking moments of catharsis in which her critical self was lost in thoughtless connection to another… and so wondered about Thessa. What explained the artist’s desire to be treated the way Taerelle liked treating her?

“Maybe,” Laelansa quietly wondered as they waited for Lynnariel, “she just likes the sensation of being restrained? Or the pageantry? Or just Taerelle? Not everything someone does has to be deep.”

“I used to think she was like Iolas, only more outgoing…” Saphienne watched the door to her mother’s bedroom overhead. “…But the two of them are different on the inside in fundamental ways. When I talked to her during our visit, I got a sense that she’s far less confident than I realised, she’s just found a way to live that she’s comfortable with.”

Laelansa took Saphienne’s thoughts seriously, if literally. “Do you know she’s different from Iolas? You said he holds himself back. Maybe he’s into the same–”

“Please, no.” Saphienne smiled in exasperation. “I don’t care about that; I just want to understand the people I love better than I do.”

“That’s relatable.” Laelansa slipped under Saphienne’s arm and leaned into her shoulder. “I feel like we’re the same… you just have to ask less questions out loud, because you’re better at thinking people through.”

Kissing Laelansa’s scalp, Saphienne lifted her chin to study her face. “That’s why you used to ask strangers so many questions? Trying to figure people out?”

Her ears drooped. “I used to struggle to tell how people were really feeling, and to guess what they were really thinking. Or, I thought I did. Then I’d go too far in the other direction, and make decisions about them that weren’t measured…”

“Like with me?”

Laelansa blushed. “…Climbing up to give you flowers was romantic, but only because you were receptive. I’d decided that you were… I had a crush on you. I didn’t have any restraint.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Otherwise, Saphienne would be dead. “I wasn’t really much better… and I’m still not. I can read people well as individuals, and I’m somewhat capable at predicting behaviours, but I’ve no social intuition.”

“You’re good at politics, though?”

“Strategy and performance. I can charm a room, but I can’t make them like me for who I am.”

Laelansa pressed closer. “I like you for who you are.”

If only that were entirely true…

“Why don’t you just ask Thessa? She’s not shy. She’d tell you.”

Saphienne winced. “Intimacy with you is… well, intimate. I don’t want to talk about my own experiences, and I can’t really ask people to share and not reciprocate. Thessa may be open, but–”

“Saphienne, my darling…” Laelansa mimicked Saphienne, who just then realised she sounded like her mother. “Just tell her you’re uncomfortable! She won’t mind. Laewyn is the only friend we have who’s pushy.”

“She’s not pushy,” Saphienne deflected, “she’s just…”

“Nosy?”

Long-delayed insight reached Saphienne. “…You know what? I finally understand why she and Thessa are so alike, in some ways. She’s always done the same: found a script she’s comfortable with, even if it wasn’t very good for her, and done her best to perform herself that way.”

Laelansa hummed. “Is that why she used to sabotage herself? In her apprenticeships, and like she tried to do with Celaena?”

“And why she likes plays, which is why she likes drama.” Saphienne marvelled. “They’re a way to express herself that feels safe. She once played at being a failure… and later, when she started sleeping with Faylar, she ended up acting the role of a hopeless romantic, because that was a script she could follow.”

“Her being pushy — is that an act?”

“I think she’s doing exactly what I’ve been doing: trying to figure people out by getting inside their head.” Saphienne quietly laughed. “An actor, anxiously searching for motivations. Desires are the greatest motivators…”

Caressing Saphienne’s side through her robes, Laelansa lowered her voice. “I feel bad now… when we first met, I thought she drank wine and misbehaved because she wanted people to like her. Same with being so sexual. There are girls and boys who play into that, to make people like them.”

None of what Laelansa said felt wrong. “Multiple things can be true. Lensa was a bad influence on her. She made her feel small, and encouraged her worst tendencies.”

“She wasn’t following a script; that girl was evil.”

Was she? “…I’m not so sure. About the script part, I mean.” Her mind drifted to Sundamar, then on to Tolduin, each of whom found certainty in their roles, each of whom was thereby led to evil acts despite good intentions. “This may be wrong, but when I think about her, I feel like she had something broken inside her. Lensa just didn’t have… compassion. I don’t know whether that was — what was it you said? Natural inclination, or cultivated through nurture?

“But whichever it was,” Saphienne went on, “I think about how she expressed it. She tried to be a wizard’s apprentice, then dressed like one when she couldn’t be. She hated me because I was allowed to study magic, and she felt like I’d been given all the opportunities she wanted for herself. And unlike Celaena, she couldn’t see why I’d been given them… and so she loathed me all the more. My conjecture,” Saphienne offered, “is that Lensa knew she didn’t have compassion, felt the absence, and believed that being a wizard would still let her be accepted.”

“You’re too kind.” Laelansa hugged her more tightly. “Everything I’ve learned about what happened makes me think she just wanted to be in control, so she could act with impunity. She was like a dragon.”

Saphienne’s heart fell.

“…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied. “I just… dragons aren’t all like that.”

Laelansa stepped away to hold her hand. “Ruddles said they’re uncompromising. They want the world to resemble what they decide is right.”

Was that what she wanted?

“…I understand some do.” Saphienne returned her gaze above. “I’m not sure how much of what I’ve been taught isn’t to be repeated, but please take my word for it: dragons aren’t all selfish and controlling. Some understand mercy.”

“Mercy requires having power over someone — and power is control, isn’t it?”

“When it’s exercised…” High Master Elduin’s explanation of his status repeated in her ears. “…But the problem isn’t having power, or showing mercy: it’s fear of the powerful. A dragon could be entirely peaceful, not wanting to control anyone, but the fact that she could would make everyone afraid of her.”

Laelansa softened. “You’re talking about the dragon, aren’t you? I don’t remember her name.”

“Parthenos.” She supposed she was. “Laelansa, I really mean this: all of what happened there was my fault. She had no intentions of causing anyone harm, she was just trying to fly to freedom.”

“She could have told you that at the start.”

“And I could have asked her.” Talking about the dragon was making Saphienne uncomfortable. “My point is, Parthenos wasn’t like Lensa. She had compassion… and she wasn’t following a script…”

Laelansa scrutinised Saphienne. “…You’re hiding something.”

Saphienne didn’t blink. Although pained within, she lowered her head to smile easily at Laelansa. “The Luminary Vale is writing a report — maybe we’ll be allowed to read it?”

“No…” Laelansa took her other hand as well. “…Something about yourself. Are you following a script, Saphienne? Is this why you’re thinking about this?”

Now, Saphienne couldn’t help but blink. “…I…”

“Are you scared about being sanctified?” Laelansa’s concern was only for the woman she loved. “Is it about finding a way to be seen that everyone will accept?”

Saphienne didn’t know what to lie about.

Laelansa let go of her hands, and slid her arms around the magician, laying her cheek on her girlfriend’s bosom. “If you have to pretend to be someone you’re not so that people like you… I know how that feels. But you don’t have to pretend with me. I love you for who you are.”

Fortunately, Lynnariel coming out from her room saved her daughter from tears.

* * *

“Lynnariel, look! Is that a squirrel?”

Daily walks had coaxed Lynnariel further from the door, to the extent that Saphienne, her mother, and her girlfriend were presently strolling arm-in-arm together in the woods to the northeast of the village. They were not far from their starting point, but ironically they were further away from their destination; Saphienne’s house lay on the opposite end of the village, and walking through the groves was simply too much for her mother, so they were attempting to circle around.

“Is it red all over? I can’t quite tell.”

If Saphienne hadn’t loved Laelansa, the magician would have fallen hard for the initiate thanks to the gentle and persistent affection she showed to her mother. She was the reason they had made such great progress in so little time. Lynnariel had wanted to stay close to the door until she acclimatised, but Laelansa had patiently explained – before they set out – that this was the wrong way to overcome her fear.

“What bird is singing? Do you recognise it?”

No, according to the novice priest there was a moment for everything — including distraction from ourselves. Dwelling on the threshold, agonising over being outside? That wouldn’t help.

“Are the leaves starting to turn? Are they more yellow than yesterday?”

So it was that Laelansa did what she did well: constantly asked questions. By focusing on what was actually there rather than what she feared to see, Lynnariel could hold her terror at bay, gradually finding that it wasn’t as undefeatable as it presented.

On that day, in that moment, Saphienne was also glad for the distraction. Her earlier conversation with Laelansa had deeply upset her, and she couldn’t – wouldn’t – tell herself why. So she followed along like her mother, spying beasts and birds, meditatively losing herself in the colours of summer.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She liked the greens, and the golds. Was that narcissistic?

“Tell me something you see.”

Lynnariel was perspiring heavily, trembling as they went along. “…Green trees, yellow grass, golden clouds…”

“That’s good — keep talking.”

Would the same principle work against her wyrd? Taerelle had proposed that denying it the chance to take effect was the surest way to defeat it… and Saphienne couldn’t help but wonder whether she was right. Kythalaen had been a more accomplished and knowledgeable wizard than Saphienne, had doubtlessly learned about her wyrd, and she’d believed that denying her descendants the possibility of living in the woodlands would frustrate the curse.

But then, she’d ended up dead; and here Saphienne was, able to choose.

…Except, Saphienne had a horrible feeling–

Lynnariel abruptly stopped.

“Hunters!” Laelansa grinned at Lynnariel. “Don’t worry, they can’t see us — Saphienne’s magic is hiding us. They’re just out practicing for autumn.”

Peering at the trio of elves who were up ahead, Saphienne couldn’t tell who they were, nor even their genders, for they were painted in browns and greens and dressed in camouflaging leaves atop their ritual furs, their outlines broken up where they crouched amid the foliage. Two were shorter, children being taught how to move stealthily with spear and bow; that they were unskilled was why they were visible.

Seeing the young hunters reminded Saphienne of how Lenitha had appeared, when the High Master had shared her ancient memories. Yet these children were treated well, nourished, and the horns they wore made them look adorable–

Horns.

Saphienne turned to her mother and leaned in to whisper. “They’re not the ward– the watchers of the wilds.”

Could Lynnariel even hear her? Was she lost in the memory of pitiless, horned elves tearing her away from the home she knew in Aiglant?

Was Saphienne to be powerless to save her mother, like she’d failed her best friend?

An unintended growl rolled from her throat. “…You’re safe with me. If they try to touch you, I’ll kill them.”

Lynnariel blinked.

“I won’t let you be taken away again.”

Slowly returning to the present, Lynnariel squeezed Saphienne’s arm hard, fumbling to thread their fingers together. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the hunters. “…I’m safe. I’m safe. They’re not– they’re not wearing masks.”

Laelansa hadn’t heard what Saphienne had said, but she latched on to what she did hear. “That’s right — they’re just dressed for hunting, so their prey knows to be afraid. We shouldn’t disturb them–”

“I want to go home.”

Saphienne and Laelansa exchanged a glance of agreement behind her back, and wordlessly tried to turn — only to have to stop, forced instead to back away so that Lynnariel could keep the hunters in view.

Strangely? Despite her petrification at the sight of them, by the time Lynnariel neared the house she was laughing at herself where she leaned against Saphienne.

* * *

Too much churning in the fathoms of her mind, that night Saphienne knocked on the door to Lynnariel’s bedroom. “Mother? May I come in?”

“…Saphienne? You can!”

She found Lynnariel curled up atop her sheets, a glass of wine in her hand — but only one glass, the rest of the bottle in the pantry. To Saphienne’s quiet delight, the pale white had barely been sipped.

“Please close the door.” Lynnariel pulled her silken robe tighter around herself. “I don’t want Laelansa to see me underdressed.”

Saphienne smirked as she did. “She’s already seen you like this.”

“She’s your lover.” Lynnariel flushed. “I don’t want to embarrass you… not more than I already do…”

Anger – but not at her mother – made Saphienne shrug off her dark blue outer robes and kick off her shoes, and she clambered onto the bed. “I’m not embarrassed by you. I’m not ashamed of you.”

Woundingly, Lynnariel stared at her daughter as though she’d received a revelation.

“I’m not.” Self-loathing made Saphienne shift closer. “I never should have been. I didn’t understand you. I was a selfish little bitch.”

“Darling…” Lynnariel tentatively brushed a loose strand of her daughter’s hair back behind her ear. “…Don’t say that about yourself. I wasn’t… I’m not a good mother to you–”

Saphienne hugged her mother.

Lynnariel hugged her daughter back.

When they separated, Saphienne surprised Lynnariel – and herself – by taking the glass from her hand and sniffing the wine. She tasted, found it tolerable, and drank more deeply than she intended, nearly draining the bulb.

Giggling, Lynnariel rescued the last. “I didn’t know you liked wine! You never wanted to try it when I offered.”

Saphienne’s smile for her mother was both wry and forgiving. “I was too young.”

“Tastes change as we grow. I only used to like sweet wines… I still prefer them.”

Glancing around, Saphienne raised an eyebrow. “Were you just sitting in here? I won’t be upset if you were using the fascinator.”

“I wasn’t.” Lynnariel’s ears reddened, and she guiltily reached under the pillow behind herself. “I was reading…”

Saphienne misunderstood, and flushed as well as she shuffled back. “I didn’t meant to interrupt personal…”

Whatever she had imagined dissipated when she read the front page her mother held out for her to see.

“I know I’m silly,” Lynnariel admitted, scarlet, “but I like to read it.”

‘The Girl and the Gulls’ was mocking where it provoked Saphienne.

“I read your gift before I gave it to you, and seeing how much you loved it… I wanted a copy of my own.”

Saphienne slowly exhaled; this was not a sigil she could make submit. “This used to be my favourite book.”

“Books are like wine, I suppose.”

She forced herself to meet her mother’s eyes. “I love you.”

Lynnariel shut the book and tossed it on the bed. “I love you too, darling. You don’t think I’m being childish? I know we’re both children, but I’m trying to be–”

“You’re not. You’re not a child. And you’re not being childish.”

Her mother grew uneasy. “Did I do something wrong?”

Saphienne rose from the bed–

But she didn’t put on her shoes, nor leave the room. The magician moved to the window and gazed out into the sunset forest. What did she expect to see there? What was dimly reflected back in the glass?

“…You haven’t done anything wrong, mother.”

Her eyes shut.

“…Tell me why you like that book. I know it, but I need to hear you say.”

Bewildered at the change, Lynnariel’s voice was fragile once more. “…Because it was your favourite? It made you happy. I liked making you happy; reading it reminds me of your birthday, when we were here together.”

And why not? Saphienne hadn’t told her how she felt; Filaurel hadn’t said anything to Lynnariel. What was a wound to Saphienne was a balm to her mother.

Greater than a balm. “…I hid it from Tolduin. I didn’t think he’d like me reading it.”

“You read it after I left?”

“A few times… more than a few times.”

Reaching into the hidden pocket of her robe, Saphienne felt for the coin, momentarily wishing she still carried the purse with her. She held up the dull surface to the light, studying the human, then the tree, then finally pondering the blunt edge, where the two were revealed to be one and the same, and where another choice might hold up — so long as the coin rolled endlessly.

“Saphienne?”

“You were a terrible mother.” She turned around. “I was a terrible daughter. Lynnariel, would you like to get drunk with me?”

* * *

Wine had its moment, too.

They sat together on the bed with an open bottle, another two ready on the floor, Saphienne making clear that she didn’t intend to stop until she was unconscious — and asking for forgiveness in advance should she prove to be an awful drunk.

She’d already warned Laelansa that she would be up late drinking with her mother. Her girlfriend had been concerned at first, before Saphienne’s reassuring kiss, whereupon the relenting novice priest had promised to attend upon them if called, on the condition that she could ask an imposition in turn, when she decided on one.

Thus Saphienne and Lynnariel chatted together, stilted at first, then relaxing after their first glasses took hold. Soon they were giggling as they reminisced about Saphienne’s foray into baking — and Lynnariel found it hilarious that Saphienne hadn’t even wanted to bake, but had been forced to pretend by circumstance. When they finished their second measures Lynnariel asked Saphienne to braid her hair in the same style as her daughter’s long tail, admitting that she’d never been properly taught.

“Phelorna showed me a little, but we always got distracted…”

Inhibitions lowered, Saphienne snorted as she wove the strands together. “Laelansa has the same effect on me. When she plays with my hair I get… restless.”

Lynnariel poured them another glass each. “I didn’t think you were sleeping much.”

Saphienne narrowed her eyes as she accepted her refilled drink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My darling Saphienne,” her mother smiled back, “you know the walls aren’t soundproof. You used to get so upset when your father and I went to bed.”

Crimson, Saphienne gulped the wine. “…We thought we were being quiet…”

“I really don’t mind! Phelorna taught me it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Still, that doesn’t mean you should hear it.”

Lynnariel waved the thought off. “I just cover my head with a pillow, or if I’m not sleeping I use the fascinator.” She drank from her glass. “Phelorna’s the one who taught me how to use it for fun.”

“You would read together?” Saphienne sipped.

“My darling, you’re so innocent. I’m not talking about reading.”

Saphienne spat wine all over the bed; Lynnariel was too amused to be upset.

* * *

After they were into the third bottle, Saphienne propped herself up – chin on palm – where she was lying on the changed bedsheets. “Mother, can I ask you about Aiglant?”

Lynnariel dropped her new braid with a sigh. “I’m not supposed to talk about that. Tolduin said I shouldn’t think about my childhood.”

“But you do.”

“I do.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I try to be good… but I miss home. Not as much, now you’re back.”

Saphienne leant on her other elbow as she grabbed her mother’s hand. “You’re not being bad when you remember. I don’t think forgetting helps.”

“…I feel sad.” Lynnariel’s lip trembled. “Remembering makes me sad.”

“I feel sad when I think about Kylantha…” Saphienne’s ears hung low. “I miss her. I miss her every day.”

“We’re not supposed to feel sad. We’re supposed to–”

“Oh, fuck that!” Saphienne reared up, swaying slightly. “Fuck all that nonsense about joy! I know you don’t really feel that way, mother. Kylantha shouldn’t have been sent away, and you shouldn’t have been dragged here.”

Conflicted though she was, a light was in Lynnariel that had been absent.

“I shouldn’t have been born.” Saphienne reached for her glass. “You should have grown up in Aiglant with Saph, getting into trouble. Even if life had been difficult, at least it would have been yours!”

“…You shouldn’t say–”

“Fuck off.” Saphienne was short-tempered. “It’s wrong. And… it’s wrong!”

Lynnariel was inscrutable.

“…I didn’t mean that.” Fumbling, Saphienne put her glass down, then righted it before it tipped. “I love you, mother. I’m sorry for cursing–”

“My darling, my Saphienne…” Lynnariel sat up on her knees. “Let me show you something.”

Bewildered by the sudden change, Saphienne watched her mother reach up above the frame of the bed, feeling around with both hands and then grimacing as she pulled on whatever was hidden there.

At last, whatever it was came loose, and she flopped down on the bed triumphally. “Hold out your hand and close your eyes.”

Spellbound, willingly fascinated, Saphienne did as her mother instructed.

A weight neither cool nor warm settled into her palm.

“You can look now.”

Warily, Saphienne opened her eyes, blinking as she saw.

Larger than the coin given her by Kylantha, yet barely so, a pendant glinted at the end of rough leather cord, oval in shape, smoothed and blackened around its edges as though sculpted down and then finished with fire. Red like ruby, the surface was etched with a depiction of roses.

“Turn it over.”

Saphienne did, pulse quickening as the movement caused the bloody colour to scintillate–

And then her heart skipped as she saw shapes – letters, script, a word, a name – inscribed neatly in the middle of the back. “…Aiglantois.”

“Oui,” answered Lynnariel, very softly.

Saphienne sounded the letters aloud, then repeated them together. “…Léonore…”

“Hearing you say it makes me so…” Lynnariel took a deep breath, lost in reverie.

“…Whose name is this?”

Her mother’s smile was small and devious. “Mine. That was my name, before Tolduin changed it.”

* * *

Once the bottles had run dry, Saphienne lay with her head in Lynnariel’s lap in the dim twilight of the room, staring up at the pendant bequeathed to her by her mother while her hair was stroked.

She’d tried to refuse — but Lynnariel wanted her to have it. “My mother left me it, and I want to give it to you.”

There was scant else. Lynnariel, who was once called Léonore, had been abandoned at the orphanage as a baby. Saphienne’s grandmother had told the keepers her daughter’s name, and paid in coin for the child to be cared for until the elves visited. She’d paid well, and the only message she’d left for little Léonore was bittersweet.

“‘You deserve better,’” Lynnariel had repeated, wistful with heartache healed by decades gone by. “‘Forget about me, and be happy.’”

One of the older girls, a favourite who’d been kept on to work at the orphanage after she was too old to live there for free, had eventually admitted to seeing Saphienne’s grandmother — unmistakably an elf by her grace, but her features had been concealed neath scarf and hooded mantle.

“All she could tell me was that she had lovely fingernails.”

Saphienne dreamed on that as she studied the heirloom she held aloft. “…This isn’t made of metal…”

“I don’t know what it is…” Lynnariel yawned, her touch slowing.

“I think I do…” Saphienne clutched it to her chest.

They dozed as the sun was rising.

“…Mother…?”

“…Darling…”

“…I may be a dragon…”

“…That’s nice… I’m not an elf either…”

“…What are you…?”

“…Human… I just have big ears…”

“…I like humans…”

Neither of them would recall the exchange when they woke.

End of Chapter 122

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep