“That’s the thing,” he replies. “I miss her even more when I’m here. Because my mother got ripped from me when I ripped the world, and she’s never been the same since.”
My heart soaks up the sorrow of his words until I’m full with it, like a cloud soaking up the vapor and condensing into itself.
Slade clears his throat, shaking his head at himself. “Here I am, complaining that I miss someone who’s just a door away, while you were stolen from your parents at such a young age. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I reply. “One person’s pain doesn’t negate another’s. Our heartaches are not competition, but the bridge to empathy. So that we can look at one another and know that on some level, we understand. That’s one beautiful thing about grief, I think. That sometimes, we can find someone in the world to look at from the other side of the bridge of our torments and know that we are not alone.”
The way Slade looks at me is so foreign, I can’t even place it. And then he leans down and places a kiss against my brow, the gesture so tender my heart almost hurts from it. “You are remarkable.”
My skin tingles where his lips touched. “I think the same of you.”
He shakes his head again like he can’t quite believe it, and then he opens the door. The two of us stride in, and Elore picks up her head from where she’s sitting in the chair by the fireplace, sewing a piece of clothing. As soon as her eyes land on Slade, her face lights up, just like she did the first time.
Hurrying to her feet, she places the clothes on her seat and then comes over, meeting us halfway. She looks him over from head to toe, and even though he gives her a smile, worry creases her brow, as if she can sense that he’s troubled, despite his attempt to cover it up.
She places her hand on his cheek and looks him in the eye, so I decide to give them a moment alone. As Slade murmurs words of assurance to her, I wander to the bookshelf, my fingertips running over the spines. Without the barrier of my glove, my fingertips graze against the texture of the books, and I relish in the simple feel of it. Of the way my gold doesn’t come spilling out involuntarily.
As I linger, I glance over the titles absently, wondering about Elore, about what happened to her when she went through the rip. It’s certainly evident to me that she knows who Slade and Ryatt are, but maybe that’s not always the case. Maybe when she went through the rip, the chaotic magic affected her too much, and since her diviner power is tied to speech, it overwhelmed both her magic and her ability to speak.
I hear them behind me, and I turn to see her fussing over Slade, practically pushing him down into a seat at the table. “Alright, alright,” he says with a smile.
Elore turns to me and then points to the seat right beside him. Getting the hint, I quickly come over and sit down. She pats me on the head, and then I watch as she bustles over to the cupboards and starts grabbing things from them, placing everything on a square of checkered fabric.
“What is she doing?”
“Packing me food,” Slade says with a smile. “Knowing her, she’ll probably be packing enough for you as well.”
“Oh, she doesn’t have to do that,” I say, worrying my lip. “With the shipment not coming in…”
“She has plenty of food stores, I promise,” Slade tells me quietly. “And she insists on doing this every time I leave, no matter how much I try to convince her otherwise.”
I look over at her as she hums softly while she bundles the fabric and ties the ends, holding everything inside. “She’s your mother. She wants to take care of you.”
Elore comes over and places the food in front of me, giving me a warm smile.
“And take care of you, it seems,” Slade says fondly.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
I reach for the bundle, but her hand comes out and grabs hold of mine, and she sits in the seat to my right. Her gaze hooks into mine, and the two of us just look at each other. I feel shy at first with the way she’s studying me so openly, but after a moment, I find myself calming. There are so many similarities I recognize between her face and Slade’s. Her grass-green gaze flicks over me, and I wonder what she sees. I wonder what she thinks.
She doesn’t say anything of course, but as she looks at me, I can almost hear a hundred words from her effusive eyes. It makes me wonder what these eyes looked like when she used her diviner power; what those secret scrawls held.
When her hand comes up to cup my cheek, I go still. Elore gives me the softest, kindest smile that I have ever seen. And despite her youthful face, it’s so motherly. Maternal. Like she somehow sees the little girl inside of me and she’s come to comfort her. It makes my eyes want to well up right here in her kitchen.