Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(51)

His mother knelt and began pulling out some weeds that had crept into one of the flower beds around the plot. “Remember when we used to work in the garden together?” she said.

Ash stared down at the flower bed. The flowers were familiar—foxflowers, and trueheart, and maiden’s kiss. Red, white, and blue. The same as the ones his father had bought his mother on the day he died.

“Those flowers,” he said hoarsely, pointing. “That was—that was—”

“I know,” the queen said, without looking up. “Your father knew these were my favorite flowers. They still are. I refuse to let an assassin take that enjoyment away from me.”

Ash knelt beside his mother, awash in memories from when they gardened together when he was a boy. At the time, he’d mainly noticed her many absences, their many differences. Now he remembered how much they’d shared.

He cleared his throat. “Speaking of Da, I have a message for you. From him.”

This time, she looked up at him. “A message?”

He took his mother’s hands and looked into her eyes. It was a job to force the words out, though they were engraved on his soul. “Something he said to me that day in Ragmarket. When he knew he was dying, he said . . . he said to tell you . . . that having you . . . that being with you . . . that loving you—it was worth it.” He swallowed hard, then repeated it softly. “He said it was worth it.”

His father’s amulet buzzed against Ash’s skin, startling him. It was as if it were underlining the message, or reacting to it. But he kept his focus on his mother’s face.

She sat for a long moment, eyes closed, until tears leaked out from under her lashes. She swallowed hard, and then said in a husky voice, “I might have to add that to both our stones.”

“So it was worth it for you?”

“How can you ask that question?” she said. “Falling in love in wartime is chancy, just like having children. We’ve had a lot of pain, but a lot of joy, all the same. Of course it’s been worth it for me, too.”

“How much time does it take?” Ash blurted.

His mother frowned, as if puzzled. She let go of his hands and sat back on her heels. “How much time does it take for what?”

“How much time does it take to stop feeling guilty for surviving? How much time do you have to have together to make it worth the pain of saying good-bye?”

“There’s not a rule for that,” she said, searching his face. “You’ve met someone—haven’t you.” It was a statement, not really a question.

He nodded. “I met a girl,” he said.

“Is she a student at the Ford?”

Memories rushed in at him from all sides—the acrid scent of the torches, the dance of the light on the walls of the dungeon, Jenna in her filthy finery, saying, “For a healer, you have a very dark soul.”

He shook his head. “It’s a long story—one maybe I’ll tell later.” Once I figure out what to say. “Anyway. Her name was Jenna. We weren’t even together that long, so I don’t know whether to call it love.” He looked up at her. “How do you even know?”

“Love is not measured by the amount of time you spend together,” his mother said. “It’s how that time is spent.” She smiled wryly. “Love moves fast in wartime—it has to. And it’s not particularly useful to try to put a label on it.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he said. “She’s dead.”

“Dead?” His mother sighed and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, sweetling.”

An hour with his mother, and he was already handing off sorrows. It wasn’t fair.

“I feel stupid bringing this up,” he said. “There’s no comparison with what you had with Da, with what you lost, and yet—does it ever get easier? Do you ever wake up and it doesn’t run you over, when you remember?”

She frowned, thinking. Ash liked that she didn’t answer right away with a platitude or dismiss his pain as trivial.

“It does get easier,” she said finally. “There will come a time when your memories will bring you more joy than pain. It’s taken me four years to get to that point.”

“I see.” He took a quick breath. “I know I have no right to ask this, but—”

“But have I thought of remarrying?” She snorted. “Everyone else asks it, so why shouldn’t you? The answer is yes, of course I’ve thought of it, but that’s as far as it goes. I see no reason to marry right now. Sometimes it seems that I would only be putting one more person at risk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our family has suffered more than our share of loss, and yet the losses keep coming. The wolves keep running.”

The queens of the Gray Wolf line saw wolves in times of danger and change. “Are you . . . are you seeing wolves now? Still?”

“The wolves are always with me, these days,” his mother said, gripping the wolf ring that hung from a chain around her neck. “I can’t help wondering if we are reaching the end of the Gray Wolf line.”

Ash had never heard his mother sound so despondent. But then, so much had happened these past four years that he hadn’t been around to see.

“No!” he practically shouted. And then, more quietly, “Mother, I—I can’t believe that this—that this is all for nothing. I can’t believe that we live in a world that rewards evil and punishes the good.”