“Yes,” I answered. “He’s alive.”
She exhaled. “I see.”
“He’s head magistrate now,” I said. “Politically speaking, he’s done well. He’s very admired by the elven council. Some even predict he may be appointed king someday.”
“I’m not surprised. He was always so ambitious.” She stared out the window, at the city’s lights glowing through the glass, at our reflections.
I’d never thought I’d looked like her, but now, I could see it. Our green eyes, the shapes of our noses, our petite lips, and our auburn hair. Everything except our ears.
“To think,” she said to herself, “after all this time, he’s still alive.” She turned to me. “Does he ever…” She hesitated. “Does he ever speak of me?”
“On occasion. I don’t spend much time with him because he’s very busy with his duties, but he has mentioned you once or twice.”
She let out a soft chuckle. “He never was good at voicing his emotions. I suppose he’s remarried?”
“No.”
“No? That’s a surprise. Elves don’t think highly of bachelors, do they? It would be more advantageous for him to remarry someone of high rank. A noblewoman, perhaps. It would advance his career. He is foolish not to remarry.”
I thought of Mom’s wedding ring sitting in my apartment. Father had created a memory charm and crossed worlds just to get it, but he had never given it to her. I supposed he never would. They lived such different lives now.
“Olive, I have to ask,” she hesitated, “if… if any of those memories I had of raising you as a child… Are any of them real?”
I stiffened. This wouldn’t be easy for her to hear. “Some of the memories were based on the truth—but those memories happened with the dragons, not with you.”
She looked away from me. I noticed her hands trembling as she stuck them under the bedsheets. “So… I never raised you? Your birthdays, Christmases, your first smile, the diaper changes, midnight feedings, the first time you told me you loved me…” Her voice broke. “It wasn’t real?”
“It was real,” I answered, “but it never happened with you.”
“I see.”
“I had a good childhood. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
She nodded. “In a way, this is a good thing. I feel like myself finally. We can start over—the way things should have been all along. I’ll sell my house; get a cabin on the beach. Maybe I’ll take up surfing.”
“Surfing?”
“Sure, it beats collecting fairy ceramics.”
Her tone of voice sounded pleasant, but when I looked into her eyes, I saw pain.
She shook her head. “Your whole childhood—I missed your whole childhood… ” She spoke to herself. “How can I ever make up for that?”
My phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and read the screen. Miranda. I gave a sidelong glance at my mom. Should I take the call? I didn’t want to leave Mom at a moment like this, but what if something had happened to Miranda? I stood and walked to the corner to answer the phone.
“Hello?” I answered quietly.
“Olive,” she said in a breathless voice, as if she’d been running. “You have to… help. You need… to come.”
“What? Where are you?”
“At the docks. Please hurry! Zeke—Mochazon—he’s in trouble.”
“Whoa, slow down. Why are you at the docks? I told you both not to leave the dorms.”
“I know! But Zeke said he had to leave. He said he had to organize the other people to help you. I tried to make him stay. I swear I tried. But he took the flower, and I couldn’t stop him. And now I can’t find him. I’ve been looking everywhere. Olive, I’m so scared. Please come!”
“Wait. Back up. Mochazon—Zeke—whatever his name is—has the flower with him?”
“Yes. It looks like an old basketball. I know how crazy that sounds. He wanted me to keep it in my apartment. It’s been here the whole time. I would’ve told you, but he made me swear not to.”
To think that the flower had been so close. I’d probably seen it and not even realized it. And a basketball? I supposed it was better than a giant gobstopper.
I turned back to my mom. There was no way I could leave her alone, but the fate of Faythander was in the balance. Why did these world-ending dilemmas always seem to happen to me?
“Look, Miranda, I’ll come as soon as I can. Try to hide somewhere until I get there. Don’t confront anyone.”
“Okay, I’ll wait. But please hurry.”
“I’ll do my best.” I ended the call and turned to my mom, although she no longer looked at me. She seemed to be staring off into space, as if her mind had traveled a million miles away.
“Mom, I have to go, but I’ll make sure someone stays with you. Do you have any friends I could call?”
She stared straight ahead, not meeting my gaze. “Olive,” she said quietly, “I named you Olive for a reason, but what was it?”
“Mom?”
She shut her eyes. Her voice drifted. “Olive means peace. Yes, that was it. My child would bring peace.”
I shook her gently, but she didn’t acknowledge me.
Her rambling troubled me. I couldn’t let Dr. Markov see her like this, and if he found out I’d left her alone, he’d prescribe a medication—which, in my opinion, would only compound her problems.
A knot formed in my throat. I had to do something to help her, and I knew the only way to save her was to restore the magic. But I couldn’t leave her alone. She needed someone here with whom she could connect once her memories leveled out. Someone she knew and liked. Someone who would help her remember the past. Someone who would help her remember me.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen, dreading the phone call I was about to make. I hadn’t even erased his number from my speed dial yet.
Oh, what fools we mortals be.
“Brent,” I said after he finally picked up.
“So, you broke up with me, and now you’re calling? What the hell, Olive?”
“Sorry, I don’t really
