Page 36 of Season Warriors & Wolves

I kneeled before her and her chestnut eyes dropped to me, a smile gracing her delicate features that had thinned beyond the usual. Carefully, I pried the sewing material from her hands and set it beside her. “It is getting cold, Driada.”

“I’m waiting for Mal, he returns from school around now.”

I shed my jacket and threw it around her shoulders. “Shall we wait together?”

She nodded, taking my hand in her cold one. I had never been big on physical contact, but I had always held her hand every evening while we waited for Mal to come back home when he was young.

We waited a while. Past sunset. Past dusk. Past twilight.

Thought she would remember that he was not here without me breaking her heart again like every other night.

“He is not coming, is he?” she asked, two stray tears falling down her hollow cheeks. “Neither is Henrik.”

“They have not gone to the same place, Driada. I will get my brother back.”

She patted my hand and laid her head on my shoulder. “Of course, my boy. You always take care of your brother. I worry for nothing, don’t I?”

The night fell overhead and a quiet settled within my chest. A warning quiet. And a quiet I had often searched as a cure to what my magic needed.

Death.

I raised a hand to her forehead. “Ada?”

The rosy walls of her room had never appeared grimmer despite the colourful life Mal had given them with his skills and paint. Every time father had shouted and ignored her, my brother had added another flower to her walls. Never realised the hate I carried in my heart for my father until I noticed there was not an inch of white left to peek through anywhere in the massive room.

Driada’s small frame laid sunken in the midst of her large bed. Even though she shivered, she’d insisted on holding my hand. Her eyes peeled open and her mouth quivered to a small smile. “Please, son,” she whispered, reaching a hand to my cheek. “Don’t keep holding onto me. Let it take me. Do not upset the God of Death.”

I shook my head. “No.” For years I had tricked death and I would do it till I no longer could. To keep her alive, I’d do much worse.

“It has been the greatest honour to have been your…to have been there for you growing up.”

“My mother,” I said, kissing her hand. “You can say it. You are my mother.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears streaming down her temples. “Thank you, son. My perfect sons. Mal will understand. He will understand if I leave.”

“What about me? What if I don’t understand? What about me, Driada?”

Her breathing grew to a sharp rattle. “You will forgive me. I know it. In time you will forgive me.”

Thora burst through the doors, crying and struggling to breathe as she climbed on the bed and curled herself next to Driada. “Please,” she murmured, laying her head on her shoulder. “Please, you’ve still not shown me how to cross stitch. You can’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Not you, too.”

Driada’s smile was faint but warm. “I won’t.”

“You are. I can feel it.” Thora looked up at me. “Please. Do something!”

I couldn’t. I could do nothing. I was all that I was, yet I couldn’t do anything. Not even keep those I loved safe.

Larg, Triad and Alaric showed up next, kneeling beside her bed as she took slow last breaths. The room slowly filled with more and more people who adored her. Atlas who rushed to my side, clinging to the back of my jacket, sobbing with his head buried under his robes. Everyone eventually came as Driada took her last breath, except the two. Except for my brother and wife.

Would I have to mourn them, too? Should I have already mourned them?

Chapter ten

Black Bishop to E7

Snowlin

Father had thrown warning looks my way all throughout the meeting even though I had not said one word. And Demir had pushed his chair so close to mine I could almost feel his scales bristling against my precious prime wool britches.