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“And take Gerarda with you,” Feron finished. They both recognized it as the dismissal it was. Lash patted my shoulder with his heavy hand once before stalking out of the clearing flanked by Riven and Gerarda on either side of him.

If it was anyone else, I would be worried.

“Your gusts are excellent.” Feron relaxed back into the chair he had made for himself. “With some rest, you will be able to braid them for your journey.”

I crossed my arms, I had only managed to braid a single gust. It was useful magic, once braided the gusts kept blowing until I untangled the braid, but I would never do it as easily as Feron braided roots from the earth. “That’s not my definition of excellent.”

“You are too hard on yourself, Keera. Even well-seasoned wielders like Lash have trouble with that exercise.”

My brows lifted in disbelief.

“We cannot all be earth wielders.” Feron shrugged off his jest.

I chuckled and then let a silence build between us. It wasn’t awkward, but peaceful. The more time I spent with Feron the more I learned that he preferred quiet company.

“Did you know my mother?” The question surprised me as much as it surprised him.

Feron’s smile was soft but sad. “Yes. I knew El’ravaasir since the day she was born. The sky cracked five times when she drew her first breath. A sign of a powerful magic wielder.”

I turned my head. “There was lightning when I unlocked the first seal. It hit me.”

Feron shook his head. “It came from you.”

He chuckled at my stunned expression. “I do not think you have fully tapped into all your power. Your control of wind is the first sign of your mother’s gift, but it is in its infancy. As you grow into it, you will be able to call storms and lightning at will.”

I fluttered my hands as if they would spark right in front of me.

“I’m angry at the choice she made.” My voice was barely more than a whisper.

Feron nodded. “As am I.”

“You are?”

Feron drummed his fingers along his cane. “I do not know how Ravaa discovered Aemon’s secret, but I struggle to accept there was not time to convene with the western Fae. So many bloodlines were lost that day. So many friends.”

I sighed but there was a strange comfort in knowing that Feron had as few answers as I did. “She must have thought that it was right.”

Feron chuckled. “I am certain she did. Ravaa was one of the most talented and caring Elverin I ever had the pleasure of knowing. But she was prone to rash decision-making and self-sacrifice.” He gave me a pointed look. “A trait she passed down to her daughter.”

“I wonder what other traits she passed on to me.” Apart from our eyes and powers, I knew so little of the Fae that had been my mother. She was just a portrait painted into my memory with no context for who she was or how she lived.

“She had a lovely singing voice,” Feron offered.

I barked a laugh. “Definitely not something she passed on to me.”

Feron smirked. “You have the same laugh. The first time I heard it I almost fell at the sound.”

My heart twinged. “She liked to laugh?”

Feron’s smile was uncontainable. “Yes. She made a point to host the funniest Elverin. Though she was also prone to seasons of sadness.”

“Even before Aemon came?”

He nodded. “You mother felt everything as deeply as she could. It made her a fierce leader and a loyal friend, but it also made her lonely.” Feron glanced at me.

I leaned back against the bench. “I don’t think that’s an inheritable trait.”

“Perhaps not. But Ravaa had trouble asking for help when she needed it.” Feron eyed the empty wineskin that was sticking out of my bag.