treasure them, always,” Jelena whispered, her voice hoarse with tears. She tucked the necklace into her bag where it settled down amongst the few other small things that she could call her own.
Claudia went to the door and held it open.
“ I love you,” Jelena said.
“ I love you, too, child. Be happy.”
Jelena exited swiftly, not daring to look back, afraid that if she did, she would be unable to leave. The sound of the door shutting behind her seemed to boom and echo within the narrow confines of the stairwell, more like a great stone crashing into place, instead of a humble wood door closing on a small room in which an old woman sat alone, crying for her lost child.
Jelena’s heart was breaking as she made for the kitchen garden, half blinded by her own tears. When she reached its fragrant confines, redolent of rosemary, thyme, and jasmine, she dropped the bundled apron and leaned, weak-kneed, against the outer kitchen wall and gave free rein to her grief.
Magnes found her there, sobbing inconsolably beneath the stars that glittered like cold ice embedded in darkest velvet. “I don’t know why I feel so…so horrible!” she cried. “I should be delirious with happiness because I’m finally getting out of this awful place, but I’m not!” She buried her face in her cousin’s shoulder.
“ You have ample reason to grieve, Jelena. You are leaving behind the woman who raised you, who loved you and called you ‘daughter,’ and you may never lay eyes upon her again. Of course you should be sad. We are about to walk a road that is completely unknown to us, but whatever lies ahead, whether it be good or ill, we’ll face it together.” Magnes slipped his hand under Jelena’s chin and tilted her face upwards. “Courage, Cousin. We’d better get going. The night’s a’wasting, and we need to be well away before sun up.”
Jelena glanced up at the sky. “There’s someone else I need to say goodbye to before I leave, Cousin,” she murmured. She turned away from the garden and set out back across the castle grounds toward the keep. Wordlessly, Magnes followed, a comforting presence at her back. She knew that he understood.
The Preseren family crypt—Jelena’s destination—lay beneath the high altar of the castle chapel. The two cousins padded silently past the slumbering keep and entered the chapel through a side door set within its southern wall. Quickly, they slipped down the central aisle, past the large wooden altar carved with painted images of gods and saints, to the stairwell at the back that led down into the subterranean vaults. Magnes paused to grab a candle from the altar before leading the way into the crypt.
The air below ground was cool and still. The little flame from the candle cast a feeble glow, but Jelena would have known the way even in total darkness. She had been here often enough before. With unerring steps, she made her way to the very back of the crypt and paused before a plain stone sarcophagus. She knelt and laid her palms flat atop the chilly granite. “Mother,” she whispered, “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
Unlike the other caskets, which were fashioned of marble and crowned with detailed effigies of the occupant as he or she had appeared in life, this tomb was stark in its simplicity. No fine effigy adorned its top, only a plain stone lid that bore the inscription:
Here lies Drucilla, daughter of Teomartus and Lucinda of the House of Preseren.
“ They put my mother at the very back, away from all of her kin. She was an outcast, even in death, all because she dared to love a man who wasn’t human.” Jelena began to weep. “Why are people so cruel, Magnes?”
Magnes knelt beside her and slipped his free arm around her shoulder. “Some people are cruel because they are weak and afraid, Cousin.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “But not all people are cruel. Claudia and I both love you.”
“ Neither one of us had the chance to know our mothers,
Claudia went to the door and held it open.
“ I love you,” Jelena said.
“ I love you, too, child. Be happy.”
Jelena exited swiftly, not daring to look back, afraid that if she did, she would be unable to leave. The sound of the door shutting behind her seemed to boom and echo within the narrow confines of the stairwell, more like a great stone crashing into place, instead of a humble wood door closing on a small room in which an old woman sat alone, crying for her lost child.
Jelena’s heart was breaking as she made for the kitchen garden, half blinded by her own tears. When she reached its fragrant confines, redolent of rosemary, thyme, and jasmine, she dropped the bundled apron and leaned, weak-kneed, against the outer kitchen wall and gave free rein to her grief.
Magnes found her there, sobbing inconsolably beneath the stars that glittered like cold ice embedded in darkest velvet. “I don’t know why I feel so…so horrible!” she cried. “I should be delirious with happiness because I’m finally getting out of this awful place, but I’m not!” She buried her face in her cousin’s shoulder.
“ You have ample reason to grieve, Jelena. You are leaving behind the woman who raised you, who loved you and called you ‘daughter,’ and you may never lay eyes upon her again. Of course you should be sad. We are about to walk a road that is completely unknown to us, but whatever lies ahead, whether it be good or ill, we’ll face it together.” Magnes slipped his hand under Jelena’s chin and tilted her face upwards. “Courage, Cousin. We’d better get going. The night’s a’wasting, and we need to be well away before sun up.”
Jelena glanced up at the sky. “There’s someone else I need to say goodbye to before I leave, Cousin,” she murmured. She turned away from the garden and set out back across the castle grounds toward the keep. Wordlessly, Magnes followed, a comforting presence at her back. She knew that he understood.
The Preseren family crypt—Jelena’s destination—lay beneath the high altar of the castle chapel. The two cousins padded silently past the slumbering keep and entered the chapel through a side door set within its southern wall. Quickly, they slipped down the central aisle, past the large wooden altar carved with painted images of gods and saints, to the stairwell at the back that led down into the subterranean vaults. Magnes paused to grab a candle from the altar before leading the way into the crypt.
The air below ground was cool and still. The little flame from the candle cast a feeble glow, but Jelena would have known the way even in total darkness. She had been here often enough before. With unerring steps, she made her way to the very back of the crypt and paused before a plain stone sarcophagus. She knelt and laid her palms flat atop the chilly granite. “Mother,” she whispered, “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
Unlike the other caskets, which were fashioned of marble and crowned with detailed effigies of the occupant as he or she had appeared in life, this tomb was stark in its simplicity. No fine effigy adorned its top, only a plain stone lid that bore the inscription:
Here lies Drucilla, daughter of Teomartus and Lucinda of the House of Preseren.
“ They put my mother at the very back, away from all of her kin. She was an outcast, even in death, all because she dared to love a man who wasn’t human.” Jelena began to weep. “Why are people so cruel, Magnes?”
Magnes knelt beside her and slipped his free arm around her shoulder. “Some people are cruel because they are weak and afraid, Cousin.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “But not all people are cruel. Claudia and I both love you.”
“ Neither one of us had the chance to know our mothers,
Similar Books
