Page 221 of Between Despair and Hope

“Hellothere,scoundrel.”

I blinked, opening my eyes, finding myself lying in the meadow. Logically, I knew I wasn’t really there—I was bleeding out beside the dormitory on the edge of the capital. Either I’d died, or this was my mind’s way of easing my suffering as I went. But the voice was one I’d dreamed of so many times, and I smiled. She leaned over me, the sun shining behind her and causing her white hair to sparkle.

“Lu?” I asked, unable to focus on her face.

“You don’t look much older.”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It was her, alright. Long, pin-straight white hair, depthless blue eyes, and a disarming smile. She wore a white dress, just like the ones she’d always been forced to wear. Barefoot, she wiggled her toes in the grass. Gods, she looked young. Though I only looked a few years older than when she died, aging prevented by the bond I’d shared with Ven, I was two decades older than her by now. I’d gotten used to the idea of her looking so young, what with seeing her niece every day, but it still took me by surprise. I supposed in my mind’s vision of her, I’d always aged her up along with me. I’d begun to picture her the way she was but a bit older, filling in the gaps with what Emma looked like now.

“Neither do you,” I said, giving her a half-smile. Gods, I knew this wasn’t real and it couldn’t last, but seeing her again was something I’d have given anything for all these years.

“Your hair is so long,” she said, awe in her tone as a hand reached toward me. But she pulled away too soon. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she frowned. “I neversawit.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled at me, soft and sad. “I had my first vision when I was fifteen. Most seers know what they are far earlier. Mother knew when she was five. She never told anyone, not even Papa, because she said people treat you differently. I suppose she told him eventually. After…” She rolled her lips in, a nervous habit of hers which made my heart ache. Something I’d forgotten. “My first vision was one of Ravemont—empty. It scared me, and I thought it was a bad dream. The only reason I even told Mama about it was because shesawthe truth and knew I needed guidance.”

She settled onto the ground, hands tucked neatly on her lap. I couldn’t believe I was sitting across from her. I could barely process what she’d said. Lucia had been a seer? Her mother?

“The goddess owes me a favor.” Her jaw was set, and she had a tightness in her eyes I didn’t recognize.

“Which one?” I asked.

Lucia merely smiled at me, unanswering. “This was my favor.”

“Speaking to me?”

“Allowing me to release the tether I have on you.”

“I’m here now though. You don’t have to,” I argued, adjusting to sit cross-legged in the grass. In my periphery, I saw my torn shirt, blood and gore beneath it, and I did my best to cover it up. She noticed, nose crinkling in disgust as she eyed my injury. “You were a seer and didn’t tell anyone? Not even Emma?” I hesitated for only a second before adding, “Not even me?”

“Iama seer. And I told no one because I knew what was going to happen that night.”

“What?” I demanded.

“My first vision was Ravemont sitting empty. The second showed me the outcome of this world if I didn’t die then. I was sixteen when it happened.” She didn’t sound sad, but I wanted to pull her into my arms anyway. But something made me feel as if I shouldn’t. It wasn’t right, and I couldn’t understand why. “My third vision happened the winter before I…left.”

“The winter we wrote to each other?”

“Yes, when you wrote me and made me fall in love with you.” Her blue eyes filled with tears as she took my hands in hers. “I saw two visions that winter. Another of what the world would be like if I didn’t die that night. And then one that showed me what it could be if I did.”

Revulsion hit me. She’d lived with that knowledge on her own and hadn’t told me? Hadn’t told anyone?

“Lu…there had to have been some way—”

She laughed, a beautiful tinkling sound I heard in my best dreams. “There was. And each one more selfish than the last. I had no choice but to allow things to happen the way they did.”

I studied her. The fine hair on her arms which caught the light. The silk of her hair draped over her shoulder. A soul-shredding smile. Her spark had been snuffed far too soon—and because she let it happen.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have—I don’t know, I would have savored it. Savored us. I would have held on and never let you go.”

“That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you. Because you wouldn’t have let me go,” she said, chin trembling.

“You’re right.” I shook my head and tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Would that have been so bad?”

“Yes,” she replied, voice firm. “I’ve had a long time to think about my decision. I don’t regret it.”

Though I knew she meant more than staying with me, it hurt to hear her say it would’ve been bad. That she didn’t regret leaving me. I’d spent so many years thinking about what our lives would have been like had she survived. The odds were good it wouldn’t have been what either of us counted on; with her betrothal to Rainier, things would have been difficult. But if none of us wanted that, would it have been so hard to stop it? If we’d all figured it out a little bit sooner?

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