We exchange a glance, but I can’t speak. Neither, it seems, can my father. For all their bickering, he loves and relies on Amma just as much as I do. Holding her hand, he watches as I move to the other side of the bed and do the same. I sit on the edge of the mattress, trying to feel reassured by the slight heat of her against me.
“’Tis her heart,” I say.
He asks the silent question, and I shake my head gently.
Amma has been getting weaker for some time. But just the day before she was as spry as ever, it seemed, even making the walk to the forge to sit outside the shop and greet passersby as she so enjoyed doing. And when I came home last eve, she was awake. Waiting for me.
“How was your evening child?” But a smile stole across her face before I could answer her. “Ah, Aedre. Of all the men in the world.”
Whether because of her experience as a Garra or her knowledge of me as my amma, she knew. She must have sensed the change in me.
“She seems to breathe easier now,” Father says, his tone uncertain.
I will Amma to open her eyes. But she does not.
Looking at Father does not make this any easier. Although he must have shed tears about my mother, I was not old enough to remember them. I cannot recall ever seeing wetness in his eyes. I hope their last words were not said in anger, as the two disagreed on many things.
“She seemed well last eve,” I whisper, squeezing her hand but getting no response back.
“Aye,” he says, his apron still black with soot. Father always cleans himself, as I do, before coming inside, so it is alarming to see him this way in Amma’s bedchamber.
He looks up at me.
“I told her no.”
What is he talking about?
“I told Edrys of the invitation, and she begged me to tell you I was too tired to attend. When I realized what she was about, I told her it was completely unacceptable for an unmarried man to escort you, especially one not even from Murwood.”
That did sound very much like my father.
“She pleaded with me. And so I relented.”
I try to make sense of his words, but I cannot.
“Amma is dying, Father.”
He nods as tears well in my eyes, escaping onto my cheeks. When he looks behind me, I do not turn around but feel the bed sink next to me.
Kipp brings my head to his shoulder as the tears fall in earnest. My chest constricts as his arm goes around me. For a few moments, I give myself over to the sorrow, to the tears, and then I lift my head and look down.
Open your eyes, Amma. Give me one last bit of advice. Tell me how to live without you.
But she does not open them. As Father said, she does breathe easier, but it is little consolation. I tell Kipp so he is prepared.
“She is dying,” I whisper.
“I know.”
I lean forward to kiss my sweet Amma on the cheek, remembering something else she said to me last eve. “Goodnight, child. All will be well.”
Why had she not added “in Murwood,” as was her custom? And why did I not stay with her longer? Had I known, I would never have left this chamber . . .
A chill runs through me. I know before either Father or Kipp do. I know because the blood of the Garra runs through me. I know, even though I wish I did not.
Lying atop her chest, I wrap my arms around her and weep. Begging her to come back to me. I feel Kipp’s hand on my shoulder, and I hear but do not comprehend my father’s comforting words, all while I weep and weep and weep.
When I sit up finally, everything hurts. My heart most of all.
Refusing to leave her, even after Father and Kipp do, I sit with Amma for so long day turns into night. I turn both of them away multiple times. How can I leave when the next time I see her it will be on a ship that carries her out to sea, never to return again?
“Aedre?”
Though the sun has already fallen, the chamber is bright courtesy of candles someone, I know not who, has lit. But I would have recognized his voice even if I could not see him.
Vanni.
I jump from the bed, feeling a wave of relief that he has not yet left Murwood. Sometime earlier I had thought of him. Wondered if he and Kipp had spoken after all. But the thought came and went, drowned in the well of sorrow within me.
“You’re still here.”
He is at my side so quickly, I do not have time to think. Within moments, I’m wrapped in his arms.
“Shhh,” he whispers in my ear. But I cannot. My tears refuse to be silent ones. “I am so sorry.”
It feels different to be held by Vanni than it did with Kipp. His chest is just as hard and unforgiving, though the pulse of his heart soothes me. Eventually, I stop crying, although I cannot bring myself to move from the safety of his embrace just yet.
“She’s gone.”
I strain my neck to see his face. But I will not let go of him. Not yet.
“I know she is, Aedre. And I am so sorry for it.”
He tries to pull me away with him.
“You must come with me.”
And then I realize Father sent him in here to force me to leave Amma’s chamber.
“I wish it were otherwise, Aedre, but I know death,” he says softly. “Sometimes I feel that I am cursed.”
I do break away then, enough to look at him.
“Nay, you are not cursed,” I say, sure of my words. “You have
