Page 80 of Into the Heartless Wood
She says to my sister: “Other daughter, go with her. Make sure she obeys.”
My sister bows. “Yes, my queen.”
My mother eyes me with contempt.
The rain has washed the blood
from her antlers. “You are fortunate I have a whole wood to waken, an army to raise to stand behind me when I go to face the Soul Eater. Otherwise, I would not be so merciful.”
She sweeps away.
The ash trees bow behind her.
Chapter Thirty-One
OWEN
THE HEARTLESS TREE GROWS ON THE BANK OF A SMALL,SWIFTriver, just as Seren said it did. I’d imagined it would be strange or terrifying, but it is just a tree, dark and old and thick, with rattling leaves and great humps of roots stretching out below the earth.
At the base of the tree, a woman crouches, digging in the dirt with her bare hands. I know her, even in the rainy half-dark. Even though she looks like the ghost of herself.
A cry rips out of me. I run toward her, stumbling on slick leaves and mud. She lifts her head as I reach her, as I kneel beside her and tug her into my arms. Ragged, guttural sobs wrack my body.
She pulls back from me, peers into my face. “I know you.” Her voice is not what I remember. It is hollow, empty. Her eyes are, too. Her hair, once pale and bright, hangs limp and matted at her shoulders. She’s dressed in rags.
“It’s Owen, Mother.” I grip her shoulders, gently, for I fear she might break. “I’m going to take you home to Father and Awela. Awela’s grown so big! You’ll be so proud of her.”
I will her to remember, but her eyes remain vacant. She blinks at me. “Owen,” I beg. “I’m Owen, and you’re Eira, and you’re married to Calon Merrick. You play the cello and you love to garden and you have the sweetest singing voice in all the world. Please, Mother. Please remember.”
She digs her fingers into the sides of her head, agony writing itself in lines across her face. “I remember I was not always as I am now. I remember I was once something more than her slave. I had a will of my own. But all she’s left me is my heart, and it no longer beats for anyone but her.”
“Please.Please.” Tears pour down my face. “Irises are your favorite flower. You always said you fell in love with Father because his head was in the sky and yours was in the earth and together you made a horizon. Please.” My heels grind deep into the mud. The rain is cold, and a chill shivers into my bones.
“The stars fell,” she says. “They fell and they fell, and the sky is changed. The Gwydden’s time has come. Soon, it will all end.” Her eyes focus suddenly on mine, a spark of her old self. “I protected you all as long as I could,” she whispers. “The Gwydden took my soul. She bound me to herself, bound me to this tree. Bid me watch over it and the souls that it contains. It is glutted with them, but it is never satisfied. I draw blood from its body. I make orbs for her daughters to hang around their necks. Blood to draw the souls, the souls.” She grips my shoulders with a fierceness that should not come from her frail body. “I am bound to the tree, and so I could use its power. I used it to remember, and when I could remember no more, I used it to protect the souls that once were dear to me.”
Realization slams through me. “Youkept me safe on the train tracks while Father was searching for me.Youkept Father out of the wood when Awela and I were safe with Seren.”
“I’ve been watching over you,” she whispers. “And it’s over now. The stars are changed. She will swallow the world. Stop her, if you can. And remember me.”
“I’m here tosaveyou,” I choke out.
Her eyes go vacant again, and she crouches back on her heels. “I followed the tree siren into the wood.” Her voice has a singsong quality to it, like she’s repeating a nursery rhyme. “The siren with violets in her hair.”
“No.”
“Violets, violets, violets!”
Numbness steals over me, swallowing me whole.
“She said my soul was strong. She brought me to her mother. Her mother stole my soul, my soul, my soul. She bound me to the tree.”
Rage rises inside of me, a monster I cannot control.
“Mother—”
“She stole my soul, but she cannot have my heart. It is finished now. You don’t need me to protect you anymore.” Her face changes, that last spark of herself coming once more into her eyes. She touches my face, smoothing her thumb over the stubble on my cheek. “When did my little boy become a man?”
I choke back a sob.
