“They should be having dinner now,” I say. I’m not sure why I whisper, but it seems the right thing to do.
There is no one in the dining hall. There is no one in any of the sitting rooms or the library.
Dread settles in my stomach, and I cling tighter to Galinor’s hand. “Something has happened.”
“We don’t know that.”
I shake my head. I can feel something is wrong.
I lead Galinor to my parent’s chambers. Outside the door, servants linger. Many of the women dab at their red-rimmed eyes, and the men look ashen.
“What happened?” I demand. My fingers begin to tremble.
Brynna looks up, and when she sees me, her face crumples. “Oh, Your Ladyship,” she sobs.
Milton steps forward and gathers Brynna in his arms. He won’t look at me. “It’s your mother.”
“What about my mother?” My shrill voice echoes in the hallway.
“There’s been an accident.”
Brynna weeps louder at the words.
“Tell me what’s happened,” I demand again.
Milton only shakes his head. The hall churns, and I’m not sure I can stand much longer. Galinor wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him.
Brynna wipes her eyes and turns to face me. “She likes to go to him when he changes back—it’s so hard on him.” Her voice trembles and more tears spill onto her cheeks. “She went early tonight…he didn’t mean to…” She starts to sob. “He would have never.”
I pull away from Galinor and undo the lock on the door. With shaking hands, I open it slowly, afraid of what waits on the other side.
There is only one candle burning atop the table. The rest of the room is bathed in shadows. Beside the bed, my father’s white head is bent over my mother’s still form. Great sobs wrack his frail frame, but Mother doesn’t move. And there is blood. So much blood.
I go cold and begin to tremble. “What’s happened?”
Father’s head snaps up. He looks ancient—much worse than even when I left him.
“I did this,” he gasps. “She shouldn’t have been here.”
“No,” I whisper.
She can’t be gone.
Even as I fight the thought, I’m unable to deny the blood I see soaking the blankets.
“Leave, Anwen.”
I stand, staring at my mother’s body.
“Go!”
The funeral is beautiful,I suppose. The weather has warmed a little, and the autumn sunshine heats our shoulders as Mother is laid into the ground. For the first time in months, Father is out during the day.
Very few attend the funeral. Only those in Father’s employ—those who truly know how Mother died—stand with us. We’ve kept the news of her death quiet.
Galinor has stayed by my side the entire day. Through the service and the meal—and now through the burial—he’s never been more than arm’s-length away. I’m not sure what I would do if he weren’t here. Father goes around as if sleepwalking. The curse is lifted, but his heart is shattered. Although it’s truly not his fault, I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive himself.
But it wasn’t him; it was me. I killed her the day I stole the stone. If I’d only known at the time.
