Page 20 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

A soft violet glow emanates from the center of star lilies scattered throughout the space.

Unlike any other lily, the star lilies were said to be created by Revna, the goddess of night, as a gift to her children.

They resembled any other lily under the sun, but at night, they let out a soft glow so her children could always find their way back to her when it was darkest. They bloomed year-round, never missing a night, no matter the weather.

All around me, the flowers grew wild, covering wherever they pleased. In the center of the space surrounding the tree was a clearing of grass where no flowers grew. A sense of deja vu crept through me, a memory I couldn’t place.

“You always loved this garden as a little girl,” a soft voice says.

Spinning, I come face to face with the blue eyes of my mother. Dark hair flows around her in waves.

Gods, she looks just like Layne.

“Mother?” I ask, taking in her features.

The deep blue of her irises sparkles in the moonlight. Her olive skin almost holding an ethereal glow.

“Yes, baby girl.” She smiles, reaching a hand out to cup my cheek.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, laying my hand atop hers.

“A mother knows when something is troubling her child.” She gestures to the ground beneath the great tree. “Come, let’s sit and talk.”

We settle beneath it, our backs to the trunk, shoulders pressed together, as she laces her fingers through mine.

Her hand is small and delicate. She’s petite, something she passed along to me, but not Layne.

Everything else about her is a mirror image of my brother.

Chestnut waves, piercing blue eyes, olive skin, it was like looking at a female version of him.

My creamy skin is pale against hers as her thumb strokes mine in soothing circles.

“Tell me what weighs on you, my dear,” she urges.

“I thought you knew what was on my mind.”

“I said a mother knows when something is troubling her child, not what is troubling them. Mothers aren’t actually mind readers.”

“Are you sure?” I grin, nudging her gently.

“Yes, but the bit about us having eyes in the back of our heads to see everything you do—that one is definitely true,” she teases back, drawing a soft laugh from both of us.

“Why does this place feel so familiar?” I ask, ignoring her request to unburden myself on her.

“I should think it would,” she replies. “It’s been many years since you last played here, but this was one of your favorite places as a child.”

“What is it?”

“It is the private royal gardens.” She looks around wistfully.

“They were a sanctuary tended by King Raynor and Queen Genevieve. Given their shared affinity for earth, they spent much of their time here together. This is where they fell in love.” She sighs as she says this, her eyes misting over at the memory.

“If it was so cherished, why does it look so abandoned?”

“It was maintained solely by the king and queen for the last two decades. They forbade anyone from tending to it, instead using it as an escape from the burdens of the crown. When the king died… a part of the queen did, too. No one has set foot in here since the king’s mind started going.

” The smile fades, replaced with a sorrow I know too well.

“I feel like a part of me died with Layne,” I admit. “He took a piece of not just my heart but my mind as well.”

She leans in and presses a kiss to my hair. “I know, my love.”

“When does it get better?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” She sighs deeply, rubbing small circles on the back of my hand.

“There is no time limit on grief, no handbook on how to handle trauma, no right or wrong way to do it. You heal in your own time, in your own way. It will happen piece by piece, and you’ll take it one day at a time. ”

“I miss him.”

“He misses you, too.”

I blink through the burn in my eyes. “So, how is it I spent so much time here as a child if it’s a private garden?”

“At one time, there were a lot of flowers here that held healing properties. I was permitted access to pick those needed in the salves and tonics the physicians use. You would follow me here every chance you got, playing amongst the flowers and climbing the tree. Sometimes you’d sneak out and come here on your own.

I found you napping amongst the star lilies on more than one occasion. ”

“I—”

“Ophelia,” a voice calls.

Elijah.

My eyes search him out before returning to my mother as realization dawns on me. “Mom, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” I say excitedly.

“Oh? Is it a male?” She lifts a knowing brow at me.

“Yes,” I confirm, my cheeks flaming. “A very special one.”

She grins. “Well, don’t leave me waiting. Go get him, Ophelia!”

I spring to my feet, a smile forming at the thought of introducing my mother to Elijah.

As I reach the door I entered through, Elijah is already standing there. His hair is sleep-tousled, curls falling around his face and brushing his shoulders.

Relaxed, uncaring, messy Elijah is my favorite.

He holds me easily as I throw myself into his arms.

“What are you doing out here, goddess?” he asks, kissing me softly.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk. Honestly, I’m not sure how I ended up here, but it felt like something was calling me.” I glance back toward the garden. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes, it’s gorgeous. Breyla and I played here on occasion, but we were rarely allowed here, especially not unattended. It saddens me to see it in such a state of neglect.”

“How’d you know to find me here? And why are you awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep either, so I went to the kitchens for tea.

On my way, I ran into a guard who mentioned seeing you wandering the halls.

He was concerned because you were in corridors no one uses and was afraid you were sleepwalking and lost. I came to track you down just in case that was the case.

I didn’t want a repeat of the river.” His voice turns serious, eyes full of concern.

“Speaking of which, I think you should stay in my room from now on. I would sleep a lot better knowing you were safe and not sleepwalking off a cliff or something.”

My chest warms at his concern and the thought of sharing a bed with him.

“No sleepwalking tonight,” I assure him. Grabbing his hand, I tug him toward the center of the secret garden. “I have something I want to show you.”

“What is it?” he asks as we climb through the overgrown flowers and vines that cover the garden floor.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” I explain as we near the tree. “She’s just on the other side of the tree.”

“Oh? Who is she?”

“My mother,” I say with a smile.

“What do you mean, Ophelia?” Elijah asks, confusion marring his brow.

“You’ll love her, Eli. She’s amazing,” I reassure him, attempting to calm any potential anxiety over meeting my mother.

“I’m sure she was, but O?—”

“Mother,” I call out before he can finish his thought. We round the tree to where I had left her.

“Where’d she go?” I ask when I find the space vacant.

Elijah looks at me, gently puzzled. “Where’d who go?”

“My mother, Eli. I told you I wanted you to meet her,” I say, growing frustrated and confused by the second. “She was just here talking to me.”

“Ophelia, look at me,” he commands, taking my face between his palms. He stares me in the eyes as he softly explains, “I don’t know who you were talking to, but it wasn’t your mother.”

My brow furrows as I try to understand his meaning. Something tickles the back of my mind. A feeling of something I should know but have forgotten. “I think I would know my own mother, Elijah,” I say with a slight amount of anger filling my tone.

“Of course you would know your mother, sweetheart, but it couldn’t possibly be her.” He swallows hard, pausing before he continues, “Your mother is dead. She’s been dead for fifteen years.”

Something cracks in my mind, reality breaking through as it comes back to me.

Memories of my mother’s funeral pyre.

Ten-year-old me, clinging to Layne as her lifeless body burned.

My father refusing to sing her death hymn.

My father throwing a poisoned dagger at me, but hitting Layne instead.

Layne dying in my arms.

My father dying as I drained the life from his body.

The rush of satisfaction I felt as the light faded from his eyes.

Alone.

“She’s dead,” I croak, tears filling my eyes. “I felt her, Elijah. I felt her hold my hand and kiss my forehead.” The words unravel into a sob, the betrayal of my own mind slicing deep.

“Shhh,” he soothes, pulling me into his arms. “You’re going to be okay. I promise you will.”

I bury my face in his chest as sobs wrack my body. “I’m alone,” I cry, my legs trembling beneath me.

Elijah holds my body tight to him, keeping me from collapsing, then slowly lowers us to the ground.

“You’re not alone, you have me.” He kisses the top of my head, one hand running soothing circles along my back. “You’ll always have me.”

I tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. “But how do I know you’re real? How can I trust that this is real?”

“Listen to me, Ophelia, I’m here. I’m real.” He grabs my hand and presses it to his chest. “Do you feel that? That’s my heart, and it beats for you.”

I nod, feeling the steady rhythm beneath my palm. I lift my hand to his cheek, letting my fingers trace the stubble along his jaw. It’s rough, and I relish the prickle of it against my skin. Real.

“From now on, if you need someone to remind you what’s real,” he says, his voice fierce with devotion, “ask me. I’ll always tell you what’s real, Ophelia. I’ll always lead you back home when you feel lost.”

“Tell me something real, Eli.”

“You’re really beautiful,” he murmurs, “How’s that for truth?”

I laugh lightly, my tears slowing.

“Layne died?” I ask.

His face falls. “That’s real.”

“My father is dead?”

“Yes, baby. That’s real, too.”

Baby. I blush at the pet name, liking the way it sounds on his tongue.

His mouth lifts on one side, a cocky smirk playing at his lips. “You like that name?”

“Maybe a bit,” I admit.

“Good.”