[ Asterion ] Book Two, Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
King Lucian was an attentive host. Over the past ten days, he had invited Alexandria to breakfast with him four times and she had not been sorry to accept the invitation. She returned from their meetings in high spirits, certain all this marriage business would be easier than she dared hope, and had nothing but praise for the man.
Their fifth breakfast together took place on the balcony of Alexandria’s chambers. She hadn’t seen fit to warn Finley, and so Finley sat with the Alexandria and the king on a brisk autumn morning, watching the fjord as though something was about to rise from it.
King Lucian spoke in Thisian, finding nothing strange in Finley being in the princess’ chambers when he arrived. Finley perched on the edge of her chair, coming up with a dozen reasons why she hadn’t been in her own chambers so early in the morning, but what did it matter? Alexandria was her princess. If there was anywhere Finley belonged in a foreign castle, it was by her side.
“It won’t be a terribly long journey. No more than a few hours at any one time. Nothing compared to the treks you’ve made of late, Princess,” King Lucian said. “But our itinerary is flexible. Should you need to stop at any time to rest, do let me know.”
Alexandria narrowed her gaze over a particularly large segment of grapefruit.
“Why should I need to stop?” Alexandria challenged.
King Lucian merely shrugged and poured Finley another glass of juice. Finley had watched the man develop a keen sense of Alexandria’s discomfort, second only to her own, throughout the last week of ceremonies, tours, and meetings. He had drawn proceedings to an abrupt but comfortable end whenever Alexandria’s pain began to flare. He had delayed and cut short no few events on his own account; Finley expected it was his own pain that allowed him to sense the same in Alexandria.
Alexandria blithely took it all for coincidence.
“I understand you aren’t to join us, Finley,” King Lucian said, changing the topic.
“I’m not, Your Highness,” Finley said, sitting straighter. “I’m taking a trip with Rydal and Luna.”
The king’s smile did not falter at the mention of Rydal, nor did he take time to consider which Rydal Finley meant.
“You’re better off for it. I have no personal wish to parade the princess and my daughter around, or indeed to visit certain members of my extended family, but so it must be. I doubt I’ll have anything exciting to report when next we meet.”
“I understand that I am obligated to attend, being vital to this whole process as I am, but must you cast such a gloom upon it? Surely we all of us would do much better visiting Rydal’s childhood home and forgetting all these dreary formalities,” Alexandria said.
Again, King Lucian shrugged.
Things were easy between the pair of them. It had never been that way in Thisia, where there was no greater punishment than having to sit down to a meal with Delphine. Finley wished she could be as relaxed around the king as Alexandria. She could not use her low standing as an excuse, for King Lucian had not once looked down on her, and his gratitude towards her for saving his son’s life was not a mere debt he considered paid after one short visit.
Finley did not like not knowing how much the king knew about her. Princess Rada hadn’t shown the slightest surprise at Alexandria’s proclamation. Finley hated the thought of being seen as a barrier to the king’s daughter’s true happiness or a potential threat to the union that was to be.
Finley did not want King Lucian to think that she—what? Was taking advantage of Alexandria? Was being taken advantage of?
Finley shook it off, enjoying the easy chatter between Alexandria and King Lucian. He was not there to judge Finley, but to gain a better understanding of the woman who was to be his daughter-in-law.
With breakfast done, the king wheeled himself out, reminding Alexandria they were to leave in an hour.
Finley checked her own bags for a second time, pretending there was anything she could truly miss on such a short journey, but Alexandria tugged her closer with a click of her tongue.
“Do try not to sulk, Finley. It is rather self-absorbed of you. Consider our positions: I am to offer myself up as sacrificial lamb for Thisia’s future, likely hanging off Princess Rada’s arm all the while, while you have the privilege of frolicking in the cat-laden fields of Rydal’s fairy tale home. You are welcome to join me, that offer still stands, but I could no longer respect you for making such a choice,” Alexandria said.
Finley scowled at Alexandria, clasping both her hands.
She didn’t want to be away from Alexandria but thought it wise to not always be in her shadow. The Sinite people ought to see the princess without her foil in tow. What’s more, the thought of sharing a carriage with Princess Rada did not sit well with her. It was not jealousy. Finley had moved far beyond that.
Whatever Princess Rada wanted with her, whatever she knew and expected of the god-crystal, was not something Finley could discuss with Alexandria. She could not burden her with such oddities, nor could she explain the things Princess Rada seemingly pulled from her own thoughts.
“Of course I’m going to Rydal’s. Does that mean I’m not allowed to miss you?” Finley asked.
“Come now. It shall be all of five days before we are together once more,” Alexandria said.
Alexandria could not hold back a grin, mood buoyed by Finley’s plain admission of missing her. Finley smiled, already anticipating a reunion not yet preceded by a parting.
Before she could say anything else or kiss Alexandria, Rydal and Luna arrived to collect her.
Rydal took Finley’s bags and nodded Alexandria’s way. The king had not thought it wise for the princesses to be trailed by a Rydal each outside of the castle, and Princess Rada’s knight had been adamant that they be the one to accompany the king’s party.
Finley had said her goodbye to that Rydal the evening prior, unable to summon anything more than a weak wave. Guilt stuck in her throat at the sight of Alexandria’s knight, for she was happy to see them in a way she hadn’t been with the other Rydal, the one Princess Rada deemed real.
“Don’t worry yourself, Lexi!” Luna said, enveloping her in a tight hug. “We’ll take care of Finley for you. You’ll get her back in one piece.”
“I am rather more worried that you shall be seduced by the open air and quaint farmhouses and decide to never return to the castle,” Alexandria said, cupping Luna’s face. “If all here will not revile me for it, might I express what a true joy it is to see you depart of your own free will, accompanied by one who loves you nearly as well as I do? We spent the greater part of our lives discussing your eventual freedom, impossible as it seemed, and here it is. I truly wish I could join you, but alas. Only I remain beholden to Thisia.”
Luna, never one to take anything Alexandria said for granted, hugged her so tightly that Alexandria was swept off the floor.
“I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we absolutely detest you for saying so,” Luna said, laughing. “And if you get me started on how much this means to me, how grateful I am to everyone here, none of us will get where we’re supposed to be. Let’s just try a simple goodbye, alright?”
“Very well, you heartless woman,” Alexandria said, prying herself free.
Luna and Rydal hovered by the doorway. Ibis was with them, watching curiously from his favourite basket. Rosa had modified it before they’d left for Sine, adding sturdy straps, and Rydal was in the habit of carrying Ibis everywhere on their back.
“Do take care, Finley. And spare a thought for me, if you find a single moment amongst all your exuberance,” Alexandria said, taking both her hands and kissing her. “I shall see you in due time.”
“I’ll see you soon, Alex,” Finley said, stealing one last kiss. “Try to have fun, okay?”
Alexandria’s reply was little more than a hmph. She watched them depart, hands clasped behind her back.
Luna put an arm around Finley’s shoulders once they were free of the castle and tugged her close.
“I’ve no idea how you did it, Fin. A year ago, Lexi would’ve sooner cut out her eye than act like that around other people. I didn’t know she had the capacity to be that way in private! But look at her now. She’s so happy that I barely recognise her,” Luna said. “Twenty years of friendship and she’s only now being mushy with me. I thought I’d never wear her down, but all it took was you appearing to make her honest with herself.”
Finley would not shake the compliment. It was exactly what she needed to hear with circumstances as they were, as Alexandria headed off with Princess Rada to let all of Sine know of their rapidly-approaching wedding.
“She’s a real romantic,” Finley said. “Maybe even more with you than me.”
Luna laughed. It was impossible not to be taken in by her joy. Luna relished in a freedom twenty years overdue and invited everyone to share in its bounties.
Rydal opened the carriage door for them, then passed Ibis in his basket to Finley. Finley held him in her lap as Rydal secured their bags, kissing him atop his big, round head.
Three Corners, the farm-turned-cat-sanctuary Rydal had grown up on, was not far. It was technically part of Waterdeep in the same way the wheatfields beyond its perimeter were. Life there was nothing like the centre of Waterdeep, old roads narrow and bustling, but it would take little more than an hour to reach.
Rydal and Luna sat side by side, fingers entwined, and Finley was given the privilege of grooming Ibis. Luna chatted excitedly the whole way, pointing out one landmark and then the next, recognising certain districts they passed through in unsteady bursts of clarity, and Rydal listened closely, nodding along.
Finley smiled whenever Rydal caught her eye. She was happy for them, beyond grateful they had the chance to embark on something so ordinary and important with Luna, but there was something selfish tinging her happiness.
She knew she would not be so comfortable around the other Rydal, Princess Rada’s knight, Magpie-Rydal. She would not have such ready smiles for them.
And really, how could she think herself any better than Princess Rada? The princess had called one Rydal real, had claimed they were the original, and there was Finley, favouring one Rydal over the other. She had divided them in her mind.
Worse still, she did not have the excuse Princess Rada did. She had not known only one Rydal. She had shared pivotal moments with each, had kept their secrets and descended into the labyrinth with one. Their blood had soaked her clothing and stained her skin. And the other Rydal, the one with her now, had shared nothing but mundane moments with her.
But there was something ill unfolding between and within Princess Rada and her knight, something that had all the markings of faith but none of the quietude.
“We’ll walk from here,” Rydal said, calling for the driver to stop. “Don’t want to scare anyone.”
Three corners was half a mile at its widest, surrounded by a mishmash of low fences. They contrasted strangely with the six-foot, meshed gates scattering the perimeter. Once they’d alighted the carriage and drifted closer, Finley saw the familiar orange flash of a crystal barrier rise from the low fences.
It was an odd sensation. The crystal radiating the shield was too far away for Finley to mute, but when she lifted a hand to the impenetrable barrier it cast around Three Corners, her hand slipped clean through the shield.
Luna tore her eyes from the farmhouse to watch. She took Finley’s wrist, moved her hand back and forth as if through nothing but air, then touched the shield herself. Magic sparked, holding her back.
“That’s fascinating! If Rydal’s mothers weren’t right there, I’d have to keep you here for hours to investigate this,” Luna said.
Rydal unlocked the gate. As they made their way down the path, dozens of cats lifted their heads from the long grass, peered down from sturdy branches, and popped out of sheds and purpose-built cat houses. Many were eager to greet Rydal, hopping on their back legs for pets, and Finley gained a few curious followers.
One of Rydal’s mothers spotted them from the kitchen window and hurried out to meet them. She called for her wife to join her, but it didn’t end with her appearance. Out came another, then another.
“Ryyydal,” Luna said, pace slowing. “Do you have four mothers?”
“Yeah,” Rydal said.
Laughing, Luna wrapped her arm around theirs and said, “All this time, I thought you were talking about two very accomplished women. Goodness, I’m glad you didn’t tell me. I’d be twice as nervous as I already am!”
“It’s fine,” Rydal said, tugging her along. “They’ll love you.”
Luna beamed, nerves spurring her on, and Finley hung back, happy to let Luna have her moment.
“Rydal, honey, I was so excited that I could barely sleep last night!” one of Rydal’s many mothers called. “Oh, you must be Luna. It’s so good to finally meet you. Honestly, all that business with you being the royal witch seems like less of an obstacle than getting Rydal to actually bring a girl home.”
Luna could only laugh, accepting embrace after embrace. Rydal’s mothers clearly adored them, and that unquestioning, unconditional affection was instantly extended to Luna. A crisscross of questions filled the air, enquiries about their journey and if anyone wanted lunch, and Luna provided all the answers as Rydal stood there, letting one of their mothers hang off their arm.
“Hey,” Rydal said, pointing towards Finley. “This is Finley. My friend.”
The woman who’d just introduced herself as Indra said, “Finley! Rydal really doesn’t do anything by halves, do they? The former royal witch and Prince Iyden’s saviour, all in one day. Next thing you know they’ll be bringing Thisia’s princess for a visit.”
Finley tried to shake Indra’s hand but was pulled into a hug.
Eventually, everyone was ushered into the kitchen. It was the largest room in the house, with a table big enough for a dozen to sit around and at least twenty bowls spread out across the floors and counters. Everything was kept meticulously clean and the cats who wandered in and out had the manners not to get under anyone’s feet.
“I’m sure you must get this all the time,” Luna said, once they’d settled down for lunch. “But I really had no idea there were four of you! I would’ve asked Rydal, if I’d had the chance, but how did you all meet? Everything here is amazing.”
One of Rydal’s mothers shot them a glare.
Shrugging, they said, “I told her about you all. Just didn’t use names.”
Flora, more interested in fussing over Ibis than joining the conversation, said, “Leave them be.”
Finley saw a lot of Rydal in her.
“Oh, it’s nothing special. Brid and I were a few years into running this place when we decided to welcome a baby who wasn’t a kitten,” Indra began. “We knew we’d have our hands full and didn’t want the cats to feel neglected. So we put out an advertisement and ended up hiring a couple from a few farms away—Lettie and Flora here. The idea was that they’d look after the cats while we focused on Rydal, but you know how it is with animals. Some of the cats would only let me or Brid give them their medication, wouldn’t let a stranger near them, so we ended up having to dart off to look after the cats, while Lettie or Flora was left with Rydal. It went on like this for, oh, six months, and in that time everything just… came together. We meshed. None of us wanted to say goodbye and plenty of the cats had got attached to our helpers, too.”
“Flora and I never did end up leaving,” Lettie said, smiling. “Sometimes things work themselves out.”
“That’s nothing special? That’s more amazing than anything I could tell you about my adventures in Thisia,” Luna said, squeezing Rydal’s hand on the tabletop. “How long have you lived here together?”
“Forty-two years?” Brid said.
“Forty-three,” Indra confirmed.
Longer than Finley had been alive. Longer than Violet had been given with her wife. There was magic in the world beyond a witch’s crystal and so many would know nothing but love all their lives, never forced to live in the aftermath of what could’ve been.
“But we don’t want to bore you with tales about ourselves. Tell us everything, Luna. Rydal’s had plenty to say in their letters but I don’t think I could tire of a tale like yours,” Lettie said. “And you as well, Finley. You were a gardener, weren’t you? To go from that to a princess’ personal foil in a foreign land is fascinating. When we ask Rydal about you, they just shrug and say you’re Finley, and that you follow Deimos.”
Finley hadn’t forgotten for a moment that Rydal’s mothers shared their faith. This Rydal could speak Asterion’s name without Finley turning cold. The whole of Three Corners was a temple in and of itself, devotion manifested in the countless lives the four women had nurtured in their sanctuary.
It was easy to speak with Rydal’s mothers. They knew nothing of her outside of a single act of thoughtless bravery and had no expectations of her. They would’ve been delighted to meet any friend of Rydal’s and used that as the foundation upon which they built their impression of Finley.
Both Finley and Luna were at ease around them. Finley was grateful to be away from the castle, from the official roles they occupied, and relished in the days ahead that promised nothing but the opportunity to rest and forget that which awaited her in the Sinite crystal mines.
*
Amarata thanked the waiter with a shallow bow of her head and what she hoped was an earnest smile. It was difficult to make eye contact with anyone who wasn’t Violet, certain as Amarata was that her eyes rang with an unnatural light, but Sparrow drew everyone’s attention her way.
Her excitement was such that she couldn’t be confined to a chair for more than a few scattered minutes. Violet had chosen the inn, small and secluded as it was, and only one other party dined there. The group shot them glances throughout their meal, muttering under their breaths, and Amarata bit back the urge to apologise.
Sparrow was enjoying herself. There was no crime in that. She was erratic, prone to outbursts of laughter and would not stay still, but that was who she was. The other group of diners had no possible way of knowing that this was only the second building she’d ever been in, and that everything from the décor to the meal was new to her.
“Sparrow, my dear. Come back here before I help myself to your dinner,” Violet called across the room. “You can admire the artwork once you’ve eaten.”
Sparrow bounced over to the table. Amarata had to keep telling herself it was Sparrow. Violet had spoken with the innkeeper to ensure there weren’t any foils on the premises – not out of prejudice, not at all, but because she hoped to work on her crystals while she was there, and she’d be more than happy to retune any of the crystals in the establishment – and cast an illusion over Sparrow.
Her skin and eyes were brown. Her horns could not be seen. To all the world, she was only extraordinary in the way she clapped her hands and proclaimed that she had never seen food so interesting.
It spoke volumes about Violet that the crystal at the core of Sparrow, the one holding her together, did not reflect this illusion. Violet had allowed Sparrow her grey skin, her golden eyes and curved horns; she hadn’t wanted to wish away who and what she was. She’d only done her best to keep her together.
“Can I have some of yours?” Sparrow asked, hand sneaking towards Amarata’s plate. Amarata could not see her claws but that didn’t mean Sparrow couldn’t sink them into whatever morsels she desired. “It looks fascinating!”
“Of course, Sparrow,” Amarata said, pushing the plate towards her.
Violet caught Sparrow’s wrist and placed it by her own plate.
“We’re all eating the same thing, Sparrow. Amarata needs her energy as much as you do,” Violet softly chided.
Amarata could not imagine the women brave enough to speak with such affection and authority to the Sunless, to an incomprehensible scrap of space given form by dead infants, even as she sat across from her.
“What does Amarata need energy for? I don’t need it. I won’t take it from her, not again. Not now I have this crystal inside of me, holding me together better than Amarata ever did,” Sparrow said, pouting at the fork Violet slipped into her hand.
“Amarata needs that energy for herself. We’ve been over this, my dear. Amarata isn’t a mere vessel for you,” Violet said. “Now, start with the venison. It’s wonderfully tender.”
After the meal, Amarata and Violet corralled Sparrow into the room she shared with Violet. Amarata relinquished herself to the comfort of old habits. How easy it would be to stand guard outside Sparrow and Violet’s room all night, listening for the slightest sound or disturbance from within or without. She needed sleep, she knew she did, but Amarata had accepted her exhaustion. A decade of rest would not see her roused from the haze that had become her life.
“I thought I might find you out here,” Violet said, ruining Amarata’s plans. “This is a quaint little inn, not the heart of a palace. Get yourself to bed.”
Amarata straightened, knowing better than to protest against Violet.
“Are you certain you do not wish me to stay with Sparrow tonight?” Amarata asked.
“I’ll be just fine, Sir. If anyone needs protecting from Sparrow, it’s you,” Violet said. She stepped closer in the dark of the hallway, taking one of Amarata’s hands. “Will you do something for me?”
“Yes,” Amarata said, knight that she was. “Anything.”
“You need to write to that friend of yours. Ocari, isn’t it? I understand you might not be able to face anyone right now, not anyone you know, but don’t let them worry any longer. You don’t have to tell them where you are. Just let them know you’re alive.”
Amarata wished to clad herself in the armour she no longer had.
But oh, how much easier this was coming from someone who did not know her. How bold Violet could be when she knew nothing of Amarata, save that a crystal knife had parted shadow from skin.
“I… I will,” Amarata murmured.
The moment she spoke the words, Violet dropped her hand. She ought to have held out longer.
“Wonderful. Let me know if you need any help or writing supplies. I’m only on the other side of this wall,” Violet said. “And get some sleep directly after, won’t you? I’m not sure I can wrangle Sparrow all by myself if you drift off in the carriage.”
“Of course,” Amarata said, bowing shallowly. “Goodnight, Violet.”
*
The crystal at the centre of Three Corners, large but rough, gave the sanctuary cats the freedom to roam without leaving the premises. A wide circle was painted on the ground around it to ensure it was always active; one more thing Rydal had failed to mention about their mothers was that Indra was a foil.
The crystal could be seen from most parts of the farm, glowing under the autumnal sun. Finley and Rydal sat on the roof of a shed, high enough for them to smoke without disturbing the cats.
“Who’s that?” Finley asked, pointing to the sleek black cat darting towards a tree.
“Orbit,” Rydal said.
“That one?”
“Acorn.”
“Her?”
“Sequel.”
“You’re making these up,” Finley said, handing the pipe to Rydal.
“Yeah,” they agreed. “All names are made up.”
“Alright. Then who’s that?”
A large orange and white cat sat at the foot of the shed, tail swishing as it looked up at them.
“You know him,” Rydal said.
“I know him?”
“That’s Jasper.”
“Jasper! I do know him,” Finley said, leaning forward to wave at the cat.
“Dropped him here so my mums could look after him. Onyx too,” Rydal said, pulling deeply from the pipe before lying on their back. “Or the other me did. Whatever.”
Finley took the pipe, inhaled, and laid by Rydal’s side. It had been a long time since she’d had the opportunity or inclination to smoke and she could feel how hard it was hitting her. How she was going to get down from the top of the shed wasn’t something she’d had the foresight to consider.
“How are you feeling about all of that? About the everything. The other Rydal – the Rydal who’s Rydal, but not you,” Finley asked. “It must be a lot to deal with. And they haven’t been very nice to you.”
That was putting it lightly. Finley turned onto her side, meeting Rydal’s gaze, and saw the tar that no longer leaked from their battered skull.
“It’s fine. I’ve never been nice to me, either. That’s how you know they’re me,” Rydal said. “I like it. It’s good, I think.”
“It’s good?” Finley asked.
Rydal nodded, momentarily distracted by a particularly dark cloud drifting overhead.
“Right,” they agreed.
“Right,” Finley said.
Sitting up and pulling on the pipe again, Finley looked down and said, “It’s good?”
“Right.”
“No. What about it is good? I mean, okay, there are two Rydals, which should be a good thing. Even if it’s a headache thing. I’d be happy if there were a hundred Rydals, so long as they were nice to each other,” Finley said. “What do you like about it?”
Rydal reached for Finley’s shoulder and pulled her back down.
“All my life, I’ve—”
Rydal paused to clear their throat. Finley handed them the pipe when they reached for it, uncertain how smoke would help, but they only ensured the ashes were extinguished. Leaning over the edge of the roof, they called Jasper up. He was there in an instant, settled against their chest and melting into a puddle of purrs.
“I’m not real. I’ve always said that,” Rydal said, stroking Jasper’s back. “No one believed me. No one listened. But now I know. Now everyone knows. You’ve seen it. The tar. That’s all I am. I’m not real and everyone knows it. I’m not real and I know what I am. I’m not real, and still—you, Luna, Alexandria, you know that, and…”
Finley pressed closer to their side, stroking Jasper’s head.
“And we still love you?” she asked.
“Sure,” Rydal said.
Finley smiled. She wouldn’t argue with them when they claimed to not be real, not if it was important to them. Not if there was freedom in it. Finley saw the real and the unreal, could dispel the most intricate of illusions, and she saw Rydal for what they were.
It was not a person’s flesh that represented all they were. It was not their bodies that gave them worth, was not the mere meat and bone that wrapped around the soul that formed a being. It was not their souls, either, for those souls had been down the river countless times and returned to the ocean, becoming something new.
Willow, neither body nor soul, neither living nor present, existed still in the world. Her memory was a blessing, was the very fabric of the life Finley was abandoned to, and Rydal existed in much the same way. Rydal could reach for Finley, could take her calloused hand in her own, and Finley remembered Willow’s touch as clearly as she recalled wind or rain.
“I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found peace in this, as confusing as it is. You deserve it,” Finley said.
“Your eyes are red,” Rydal said.
“I don’t know how I’m going to get down from here without breaking my neck.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll carry you.”
“Like a cat?”
“Sure.”
It wasn’t as adventurous as all that. Finley stumbled and slipped her way down the back of the shed, landing in the soft tufts of grass, put to shame by Jasper’s agile descent. Rydal watched, hands on their hips. Finley walked arm-in-arm with Rydal back to the farm house, where Flora was washing food bowls in a large trough. She waved Finley and Rydal past, focused on her work.
Inside, Luna, Brid, and Lettie were deep in conversation and cats.
“What have you two been doing?” Luna asked, brow raised.
“Um. Praying,” Finley offered.
Finley had made herself scarce so Luna could work on the sanctuary crystals, something Rydal’s mothers had refused time and time again because she was their guest, but Luna had been persistent. Indra had similarly excused herself, not wanting to interrupt the work and taking the chance to procure the makings of a feast for dinner.
Rydal put an arm around Finley’s waist, steadying her.
“Finley’s devoted,” they said solemnly, nose nuzzling her cheek.
“Oh, next time I’m not staying behind to play with crystals. You two look like you had much more fun than me,” Luna said, holding out a hand.
Finley took it. She realised her mistake as Luna laughed, but was pulled onto the settee before she could succumb to embarrassment.
Rydal sat square on the floor, instantly flocked by cats, and Finley leant against the soft, inviting warmth of Luna’s body.
Rydal was a lucky person.
“Let’s hope your mother is back soon,” Brid said, rolling her eyes affectionately. “I can tell the pair of you will be wanting a big dinner.”
“Sure,” Rydal said.
They laid back. Onyx darted across the room on his three legs and claimed pride of place on their stomach.
“Before you chose to interrupt us, Luna was telling us about a conundrum of her own,” Lettie said.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing they haven’t both heard a hundred times over,” Luna said, trying to laugh it off.
“It isn’t nothing, Luna. It’s more than I can get my head around.”
Finley placed a hand on Luna’s face, turning her towards her. God. Luna was so pretty.
“What is it?” Finley asked, all concern.
“Bet it’s her parents,” Rydal said from the floor.
Luna nodded, sinking back into her seat. Finley hadn’t heard it a hundred times; she’d barely heard Luna mention it at all, but she knew it wasn’t because it meant nothing to her. Luna hadn’t seen her parents in over twenty years, not since the day she was torn from them by Thisia, and now she was forced to reckon with all that had changed in those long decades between them. Finley’s heart ached for her. She wrapped both arms around Luna, nestling close.
“It’s just—god, where do I even begin? It’s not like I can go to anyone for advice because this is literally unprecedented! I get the honour of being the first person to deal with all of this,” Luna said, unable to hold back. “I’m so scared of what they’ll think when they see me. What if I’ve become someone they don’t recognise? What if I’m not the daughter they wanted? What if Thisia has clung to me in ways I don’t even realise, what if I’ve become everything they resent, everything they’ve spent twenty years hating? What if they don’t want to be my parents anymore? What if they haven’t been since I left and they’ve already made their peace with losing me?”
Lettie nodded thoughtfully into the silence. Brid looked as though she was about to speak, but Rydal beat her to it.
“Whatever. Got plenty of mums to go around here,” they said.
“Listen to me Luna,” Finley said, determined to see clearly through the pleasant haze her thoughts had become. “I haven’t seen my parents in, oh, thirty years. That’s a long time! And like you, I spent so long convinced that they were going to come back, that they’d rescue me and everything would be normal again. But—but you know what? I have it easy compared to you. Because I know that my parents are, oh, how did Alex put it—oh! They’re bastards. That’s it. Or was that her father? Oh, well. Doesn’t matter. The point is that they abandoned me because I’m a foil, because it was easier to not be around me, and that’s all clean-cut, right? Once I figured that all out, there wasn’t any doubt in my mind. I was better off without them. They’d never been my parents.
“But your parents, Luna, how could they not want you back? You’re so smart and impressive and beautiful, your hair is really softy, and you’ve been through so much. They never chose to abandon you, you know? I know they’ve never stopped fighting to get you back. So maybe it will be awkward when you meet for the first time, but it will be worth it. I bet it will. And if it isn’t, that’s what you have us for.”
Finley felt proud for only taking a minor detour to make her point, despite the horror and confusion crossing Brid and Lettie’s faces.
Rydal wheezed a laugh.
“Finley can share my mums, too,” they said.
“That’s very sweet of you, Finley,” Luna said, trying to bite back a smile. “But I think that makes me sad for you, more than anything else.”
“Don’t be sad for me! I’m here with you and Rydal and all these cats, I’ve met all four of Rydal’s mums, and I’ll see Alex soon.”
“Yes you will,” Luna said, gently petting her face. “But it’s not what my parents will think about me that really scares me. It’s what I’ll think about them. Like Finley said, I’ve had so many feelings about them over the years. I thought they’d come to rescue me. Of course I did! I was a kid. But when the years passed, I let myself be angry at them. They hadn’t fought for me. Standing up to Thisia was too much trouble and they’d decided to carry on with their lives, even though I’d never be able to return to mine. As I got older, I truly began to understand Thisia’s power and how impossible it was to fight against them. I was scared, then. Scared that my parents had tried to rescue me and that they’d been imprisoned for it, or worse. That’s when I had to stop thinking about them, when I had to pack them away in a little box.
“But what if I meet with them and all I can feel is anger? What if they’re so happy to see me while I resent them for the impossible situation we were all put in? What if after all this time I can’t feel anything for them?”
Finley closed her eyes, tightening her hold on Luna.
“If that’s what you feel, Luna, then it’s what you feel,” Brid said gently. “I can’t imagine how terrifying this is for you, but no matter what you feel, it’s true to you. And that doesn’t mean it’s what you want to feel or that it’s the only thing you’ll feel. You’ve got to be gentle with yourself and ease your way into this. You don’t have to show up at your childhood home, all smiles. You can invite your parents to the castle. You can even bring them here if it’ll make things easier for you.
“But whatever happens, Rydal is right: you’ll have the four of us, no matter what.”
Luna sniffed loudly. Finley fumbled around, producing a handkerchief from Luna’s own pocket.
“But you’ve only just met me,” Luna protested.
“Maybe,” Lettie agreed. “But we know Rydal and we can see how much they love you. We’ve only just met you, but we’ve been waiting all Rydal’s life for someone like you to show up and make them happy. We’ll never be able to do enough for you Luna.”
Rydal shuffled across the floor, cats carefully balanced atop them, and placed a hand on Luna’s knee.
Luna laughed through her tears. Finley could not think of anyone more deserving of such acceptance, of such plain, simple love. Returning to Sine would mean a hundred little homecomings for Luna and this was perhaps the most precious of all, wholly unlooked for as it was.
“What did I miss?” Indra asked, poking her head into the room. “I only went over to the next farm for supplies and here you all are, crying your eyes out. One of you needs to pull it together and help me haul these supplies in before the cats realise I’ve got two whole chickens in there.”