Page 153 of First Ritual

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Page 153 of First Ritual

“She loved my grandfather. I know that. I question why she’d leave him, and in the later stages of her life too, with a love like that.”

“We all questioned it. Only one love could be stronger than what they shared, and that was love for their children.”

They’d each stayed with one child, splitting in two. How much had they missed each other in those final years? “My grandfather. When did he pass?”

“Four years ago. Caradoc changed rather suddenly a year prior to that, and his health declined rapidly.” Varden glanced at me. “You mentioned Rowaness died five years ago…”

“You think they were keeping in touch.”

He dipped his head. “Though Caradoc was always careful to never let any hint of that escape. Maybe only to his son.”

If he had, Rooke knew nothing about it. “The more time I spend here, the more I find myself asking why mother left. No one knows the answer. I didn’t come here to look for my father, and yet life seems to have led me to the question anyway.”

Varden hummed. “As life does. I have not, and never had, any idea who your father is. Secrets are not so easy to hold in a coven, so that always surprised me. Such tensions are often palpable, particularly to grimoires who often sense unrest in a mind.”

Was he commenting on me and Wild? The glint in his eyes was suspect.

He continued, “Which has led your mother’s friends to suppose that she met your father elsewhere.”

“That’s what I’d come to. I’ve met everyone in the coven and didn’t feel the awareness I would have expected with my father.”

“You would know him,” Varden stated. “In the year prior to your mother’s departure, she’d opened a project. One that she threw herself into with vigor.”

Magus of all skill levels often had running projects, areas of interest of skill development. All the cubicles in the library, and the greenhouses in the apothecary center were dedicated areas for these. “What was the project?”

“Discovery of new flora in the area and surrounds.”

“Really?” That didn’t sound nearly exciting enough for Mother. Her projects had always possessed an aspect of the mental, emotional, or spiritual.

“At the time, no one thought anything of it. The allure of discovery, particularly for an apothecary affinity… Now, I look back and wonder if that’s what Hazeluna was really doing. She was researching something, absolutely. Similar to Mr. Astar and his three companions, she was rarely seen without her head in a book or without a look of intense concentration. Whatever had sparked her interest occupied her entirely in that year.”

“Then she just left,” I mused. “Why did she hide her project?”

“Why do we hide anything?” he countered.

Again, I got the sense he wasn’t only referring to the current conversation. “Fear, uncertainty—”

“Fear and uncertainty of what?”

I considered that. “The outcome.”

“The outcome of the secret being known by others,” he said. “In the form of the reactions of others. We hide things because of people, and due to what we believe other people’s limitations of acceptance to be. Rowaness never appeared to have any secrets. She held little regard for the opinions of others. You have the similar skill of not allowing others’ voices to override your own.”

I would have agreed with him, but I’d let the voices creep in lately.

“Your mother, on the other hand, had your grandfather’s qualities in her. He placed great importance in community. She, as a result, held this in great stead.”

I exhaled. “You’re saying that whatever she was doing might’ve been divisive to the community? Or controversial?”

“I can only piece together what I understood of her, and what I saw at the time. In hindsight, if her true project was concealed, then I believe she wished to avoid upsetting the coven until she’d made her discovery.”

Mother, what the hell did you stumble upon? “You said her work took her out of the coven. Do you know where?”

“She visited other covens,” he said. “The original coven was one, as well as two of the closest covens to here. This isn’t unusual when collecting baseline data. Otherwise, as you would assume, her quest for local flora took her into surrounding areas. She would leave for a couple of weeks at a time, and go alone.”

“Did Mother have any close friends?”

He smiled. “Like your grandfather, I would garner that everyone considered themselves a close friend of hers. But her confidants? Her mother, her father, her brother.”




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