True North [True North series book 1/3]

“I grew up here,” I continued, “I lived here with my parents, and my two brothers, Nysander and Tophyn. Our parents died when we were little — they had fallen ill. My father passed away first, when my mother was pregnant with Tophyn, and then my mother died shortly after she delivered him. I was fourteen when she died, Nys had just turned ten. We were left to raise our baby brother by ourselves, with the help of a family friend, Elysora. Tophyn was born sickly, but we were able to keep the worst of the illness at bay with the help of herbs and plants from the forest. Nys and I took care of him for years before the sickness got so bad I felt like we were on the verge of losing him. I—”

I folded my arms and lay my head upon them as I cried again, unable to stop myself. Nysander put down a cup of tea and joined us at the table, keeping a safe distance.

“Honey?” he asked, sliding the pot my way.

“Tophyn used to love honey,” I smiled through my tears. “He always used to ask for—”

“Two spoonfuls,” Nysander finished my sentence. I held my breath as I met his eyes.

Nysander shifted in his seat. “How do you know all this?” he asked, an edge of hostility to his voice.

“I… I lived it, Nys,” I said, “I promise. You may have forgotten me, but I haven’t forgotten you.”

The woman reached for my hand. “Go on then,” she said, “tell us more about your life.”

I swallowed my tears and took a sip of tea. “I went out to find seed of Solvan one day,” I resumed my story with a shaky voice. I went deep into the forest, and ended up… lost.”

I contemplated telling them about Ardanis, but decided against it. They already thought me to be a basket case to begin with — no need to confirm their suspicions.

“I was only gone for a few days, but when I finally found my way back… well, you know the rest.”

Nysander and the woman stared at me for a few moments.

“I truly am your sister, Nys. I am four years your senior. I taught you to hunt, which plants were safe and how to use them.”

I gestured to the scar on his chin, “I stitched up your wound after you hit your chin on the kitchen counter after falling off it looking for that same honey pot you’re still using. You were seven, and I had to knock you out using Emberfern to keep you from trashing around every time I came near you with the needle.”

Nysander stared at me, his face a blank slate. Now that I had time to study him, I found it hard not to recognize the old him in there. His eyes still held that boyish wonder, and although his face had withered with age, his features had remained mostly unchanged.

“You have a large birthmark on your right knee and the toe of your left foot slightly curls beneath the others. Tophyn had a patch of white hair behind his right ear, and there was a brown spot in the blue of his left iris. He hated having his feet touched, and loved the song ‘rain upon the roof’. I sang it to calm him down after he had nightmares.”

The woman looked at Nys, and reached for his hand with her free one.

“I don’t understand,” he said after a while, “I have absolutely no recollection of you. But you know these details — how is it that you know these details? You’re what, twenty? Twenty-two? My parents had just two children, Tophyn and I. There is simply no way…”

I sighed, taking a few long swigs of the tea.

“I don’t know how else to explain it,” I said, “I was there. You’re my little brother, Nys, and so is— was Tophyn. I wish I had never left that day… I wish I would have been able to see him one last time.” I buried my face in my hands and began crying again.

The woman rubbed my shoulder soothingly. “Would you like to see where we’ve buried him?” she asked gently, and although the words cut me like knives, I nodded.

The woman took me outside, to the tree in the garden. A small headstone marked Tophyn’s grave. I knelt down beside it, and rested my forehead against it as I cried the last of my tears. And then I was empty. All of my tears had been used up.

My fingers slowly traced the outlined of the headstone as I apologized over and over and over again in my head. I shouldn’t have left you. I should have made it back sooner. I should have stayed. I should have been there. I should have held your hand as you took your last breaths. I should have healed you.

A small hand found mine, and I looked up to see the boy from earlier. “Who are you?” he asked, his blue eyes full of curiosity.

“My name is Serin,” I stammered, looking for words, “I am—”

“She’s your auntie, love,” the blonde woman finished my sentence, taking the boy’s hand and leading him back inside.

She came back out and sat down in the grass beside me. “Well,” she said, “whoever you may be, you’re family now.”

I didn’t look up as she set the cup of tea in front of me again. I brought it to my lips, and took another sip. And then I looked at her.

“What’s your name?” I asked. “Valeria,” the woman replied.

“You’re Elysora’s daughter, then?” I asked, a small smile creeping onto my face. “I am,” Valeria confirmed, “Nysander and I got married eight years ago. We have two children, Tophyn, who you’ve just met, and Elora.”

Valeria smiled kindly at me. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Serin. And I’m so sorry we don’t know you like you know us.”

I nodded faintly. “Thank you, Valeria. Thank you for loving my broth— for loving Nys. He’s lucky to have you.”

Valeria looked over her shoulder at the house. “I need to put the kids to bed,” she said, and I quickly rose to my feet.

“Right,” I said, “it was a pleasure meeting you.” “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” Valeria inquired, her hands on her hips.

“Sure,” I lied, “thank you again. Say goodbye to Nys for me.”

I turned around, and began walking toward the mountain.

“Serin!” Valeria called after me. “Come here. Stay with us, just for tonight. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

I paused my walking, hesitating.

“Come meet your niece,” Valeria pressed, and I caved.

I turned back around and walked back to the house. My house. Their house.