Page 61 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

The vinegar-soaked rag came away from Louisa’s face as she gazed at her daughter, nestled in her father’s big arms. Arabel was several feet away but still, Louisa could see her delicate features. She was a beautiful woman, looking very much like her mother had at that age. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“In the spring, the snow would melt and the streams would become great raging rivers,” she continued hoarsely.

“Yellow flowers would wake up from the frozen soil and the mountains would be covered with them. In the summertime, those same mountains would be overrun with families of rabbits and the entire valley would come alive with hopping, fuzzy creatures, all of them eating those pretty yellow flowers and growing fat and happy.”

Arabel grinned at the visual description. “I like rabbits.”

Louisa did something very surprising, then.

She lifted her head and, extremely laboriously, pushed herself up so that she was resting on one elbow.

It was as close as she could come to actually sitting up, but for her child, for this beautiful, young woman, she would make the attempt.

She didn’t want to speak to her lying down like a weakling.

She wanted to show her daughter what she was made of.

“You come from strong and powerful people, Arabel,” she continued softly.

“My father was called Maurice the Bold because he was firm and strong, and everyone both respected and feared him. My brother was called Kurt the Brave, and he was indeed a very brave man. He once saved many people from a sinking ship by charging his horse out into the river and using his long beard as a rope for the drowning to cling to. It is true!”

Arabel giggled at the story of the man with the rope-beard, bringing a grin to Louisa’s pale lips.

“But the most respected and wise person in our family was my mother,” she said, warmth and reflection glistening in her dark eyes.

“You are named for her, in fact. Her name was Arabel Edeline Johanna von Karmann von Hassenpflug and was a direct descendent of the Valkyrie Sigdrifa, who was one of the chief Valkyries. Do you know who they are?”

Arabel was enthralled with the story. She shook her head. “Nay.”

Louisa’s smile grew. “Valkyries are the goddesses that choose who may live or die in a battle,” she said, rather proudly. “They are in my blood. They are in your blood as well.”

Arabel’s eyes widened. “I am descended from gods ?”

Louisa nodded. “Sigdrifa was known as the ‘victory maker’. She brought luck to all men in battle. Perhaps that is why your father is such a great warrior– he has you to protect him. That is why you were meant to stay with him, you know. You have protected your father all of these years.”

Arabel was astonished. She looked at her father, who was looking at Louisa with an odd sort of expression, something between disbelief and warmth. She had never seen that particular expression before. Rather speechless, she returned her attention to Louisa.

“But… but you left me,” she said, sounding as if she was almost embarrassed to voice her thoughts after what she had just been told. “Why did you leave?”

Louisa’s smile remained. “I never left you, Arabel,” she murmured. “I gave you over to your father so that you could protect him while I was called away. We are Valkyries, you and I, and we are needed everywhere. I came back when I could but soon, I will be called away again. ”

Arabel cocked her head. “Where will you go?”

Louisa’s strength was failing her. She had exerted herself all that she could. Carefully, she lay back down on the stiff and crunchy mattress, gazing up at her only child. She sighed faintly.

“Where all Valkyries go,” she explained. “Walhalla. It is where all of the great warriors go when it is time for them to move on to another life. When it is time to die.”

Arabel thought on that a moment. “Will I go there, too, when I die? I thought I would go to heaven. That is what the priests say.”

Louisa could feel her life draining from her.

Her arms and legs were growing very cold and she instinctively knew she was not long for this world.

God had given her just enough time to reconcile with her child and now that it was done, there was no longer any reason for her to remain. It was time for her to go.

“Wherever you go, I shall see you there,” she promised. “But for now, you must stay and continue to protect your father. That is what you were meant for.”

She closed her eyes and faded off as Arabel, Tevin and Cantia watched.

The hut grew excessively quiet, for not even the sounds of Louisa’s heavy breathing filled the stale air.

It was Cantia who finally went over to the woman and felt her pulse, realizing she was gone.

She looked at Tevin with big eyes, implying the worst, and he took the hint.

As he turned to leave, Arabel stopped him.

“Is she dead?”

Tevin nodded faintly. “She is, sweetheart.”

He started to move again but she balked. “Please,” she begged her father, “I… I just want to touch her. Can I please touch her?”

Tevin realized he was fighting off tears.

He wasn’t sure why, but he was. Perhaps it was because Louisa had done what he had asked and given Arabel a true sense of worth.

Perhaps it was all fantasy, perhaps not.

In any case, Arabel would forever remember the last words of her mother and cherish them.

Louisa may have wronged both Tevin and Arabel once, but in the last few moments of her life, she made up for it. She gave Arabel the right to dream .

Silently, he took her over to her mother’s body.

Arabel wanted to be put down but there was no place to sit her, so he ended up putting her on her spindly knees as she sat next to the bed.

When Cantia tried to move close again, he held out a hand to her and had her keep her distance.

In fact, he moved back as well, going to stand with Cantia by the door as Arabel sat beside her mother’s bed.

Arabel gazed at the face of the woman who gave birth to her, seeing her own features in the weathered reflection.

Lifting a weak arm, she gently touched Louisa’s hand, her wrist, feeling her still-warm flesh beneath her touch.

Then, she reached up and pulled the blanket off the woman’s head, revealing hair that had mostly fallen out.

Louisa was almost completely bald. But Arabel gazed at the woman with some pity, some warmth, and stroked the sparse hair anyway.

She was sad, but not terribly so. In fact, she felt rather comforted.

“If you are not in heaven when I get there, I will demand they take me to Walhalla,” she whispered.

“I will tell them I am a Valkyrie and they will have to let me go. But until that time, I promise I will continue to protect my father. Thank you for leaving me behind to protect him. I am glad you did.”

Bending over, she kissed the woman’s wrist and covered her head back up with the blanket.

Then she turned to Tevin, who was standing near the door with Cantia in his arms and tears in his eyes.

Cantia had her head turned but Arabel could see that the woman was crying.

She smiled at the emotional pair, having no real idea why they were so weepy.

“Do not be sad,” she said. “Look at her face. There is a smile on it. Do you think she was happy to have met me?”

Tevin blinked back his tears. “Of course she was,” he said hoarsely. “She was very honored.”

Arabel looked at the woman, somehow beautiful in death as she had not been in life. Her skinny fingers lingered on the woman’s hand. “Will we bury her in the cathedral now?” she asked. “She is your wife, after all. That makes her a countess.”

Tevin looked at Cantia, who was wiping the tears off her face. It was Cantia who answered.

“She will be buried with the greatest of honors, as the wife of the Earl of East Anglia,” she said softly. “But, more importantly, she was your mother. That affords her the greatest and most honorable funeral of all. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

Arabel nodded, lifting her arms to her father, who scooped her up off the floor. Thin arms wrapped around her father’s neck, she gazed at Cantia.

“Did you know your mother, Cantia?” she asked.

Cantia’s gaze moved to the dead woman, her attention lingering there for a moment.

Thoughts of her own past hovered in her mind.

“Nay,” she looked away. “She died when I was very young. I do not remember her at all. In that respect, I think you were very fortunate to have met your mother. I wish I had.”

Arabel reached out a bony hand to Cantia, who took it snuggly. “I think I was fortunate, too,” she said, squeezing Cantia’s hand. “She said that I am meant to protect my father. I think I shall protect you, too.”

Cantia smiled gratefully as they moved to the doorway, opening the panel to reveal the brilliant sunset beyond. Streamers of orange and yellow brushed across the sky and they all paused, gazing up into the coming night because it was so beautiful.

“Soft strokes of the colors of sunset that appear vibrant against the deep blue sky,” Arabel uttered softly, repeating the words her mother had spoken to her as she looked up at the brilliant night. “Father, do you think she meant to leave this sunset for us?”

Tevin followed his daughter’s gaze. Then he kissed her cheek and managed to stroke Cantia’s shoulder affectionately. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so satisfied or so free.

“I do not think she meant it for all of us,” he said softly. “I think she only meant it for you. It is the last gift she could give you.”

Arabel liked that thought. As she looked up into the glistening clouds, somewhere, someway, she could see Louisa winking at her.

She winked back.