Page 118 of Shadows and Flames
When I fished out the key to Papá’s home and let us inside, stale air filled my lungs like dry cloth, and the protective barrier allowed me and Meline, my guest, to pass. I went to the windows, pushing them open to let out the musty air that had been trapped within since the carer was here last. Then, I went to the freshly cleaned hearth stacked with fresh logs. Releasing fire from my palms provided more relief, like a large sigh in the depths of my soul, and when I stood, I took in not just Papá’s home, but my queen within it.
Certainly, my father had others within its walls besides him, Leandro, and me, but I was never present for that. Even Mamá did not visit, electing to remain in the arid lands of Savya, the continent where we’d been born.
Still, there were touches of Zonoras in the very Ralthan home. Heavy wood craftsmanship shown in the table set to the right, beside a large window that overlooked the woods behind the house. The dark floors were clean, as was the Zonoran rug sprawling the length of the living area. Its shades of crimson reflected that of the flames, as did the oranges of the tapestry hanging behind the sofa. Cushions were neatly stacked beside it,accommodating for my brother and me who had picked up the Zonoran custom of sitting on the floor.
“It smells like you in here,” Meline whispered reverently, looking around what was so familiar to me. I’d not changed anything when my father and brother were killed, so it was the same as it had been before and yet irreversibly changed. A tomb.
Or, so I had thought for many years. With someone else in it, withherin it, it felt more again. Like a home.
“It does?”
She nodded, stepping closer and keeping her movements measured, as if she did not want to disturb anything, even the empty spaces. “Yes. Although,” she sniffed purposefully, “it smells more strongly of the oak in your scent. Tilled soil and cool water.”
I smiled, let my eyes fill. “That’s Papá.”
Though mine hadn’t, Meline’s tears fell into two, faint tracks. She did not try to wipe them away. “What was his name?”
My heart thudded heavily in my chest. “Emmett.”
Meline took another step closer to me, now in reaching distance. Her gaze softened. “Emmett and Elián.”
My smile was sad. Grateful. For her. “Sê.”
She did reach out to me, then. After quickly pulling off her gloves, Meline took my jaw in hand, tugging lightly while pressing up on her toes. She kissed me with closed lips and love pulsing from her into me. “É vahmo, El. Gravas.” She kissed me again while I focused on remaining upright.
The first part of our ride to the Well was an amalgamation of silence and stories. Tales of her life, mine, and the one we had lost and were trying to create together.
And lessons in Zonoran, when I would say simple phrases, translate, and practice with her. The language of Ralthas was the common tongue, so the weight of her speaking to me in my firstlanguage, of telling me she loved me, was almost too much for me to hold. To contain.
“É vahmo, mé relanha. But you do not need to thank me.”
“Yes, I do.” But she did not elaborate on what, and I decided I did not need her to. Words were still difficult for me at times, and we both still struggled with not using them as weapons and shields. Sometimes, the absence of them spoke much more clearly. When we would speak our son’s name, and the long shared pause, staring ahead, was enough. When we would pant into each other’s mouths, eyes locked and bodies joined. When she drew a grin from me and would gift me with one of hers.
We placed our things in the spare room, where I had long ago brought a bed for when I could bring myself to stay here. Papá’s room and the one I’d shared with Leandro remained as they’d been since the day they left this realm.
The two of us emerged, walking past Saffron and Amber as they grazed the foliage in front of the house.
The forest was quiet for us, yet lively at the same time. What fauna was awake, scuttled under the dying light of day, and nocturnal predators prowled in the darkness. Wolves, wild cats, and scavengers were common in this area, and my awareness of all of it ran in the background of my thoughts.
After some time, walking along the length of the river that was just hidden from view but audible, Meline stopped us again. This cottage was newer than Papá’s, though we were watching it through the shield of mature tree trunks. Someone was in it, evident by the electric lights glowing from within. Papá never had modernized to have them installed in his home. And with Leandro and I around often, he had often stated he had no use for it.
Faintly, I could hear the sounds of a family within its walls. The excited babbling of two children, maybe three. The tired laughs of their parents.
Meline’s breaths were fast, and her hand rubbed at the center of her chest. I had no connection to the cottage directly, only with her, but through that, I could feel the pain. The longing. Missing what could have been, she had said. And was that not the most overwhelming shade of grief? Letting go of a nebulous hope?
She did not linger long, though I would have stood all evening with her, should she have needed it. But, she led us away, toward the calm roar of the river.
Meline took us to a cluster of boulders, flat and smoothed where people had most likely sat for centuries, and the deftness in which she crossed her legs, tucking them toward her, showed she had been one of them.
I took the edge, mimicking her posture and following her gaze to the running water. It was dark, this time of night, lapping obscured by the fading light.
Fabric rustled, and I turned my attention back to her, where Meline was pulling the small, gold box from her pocket I’d since given back to her. Flowers were etched into the surface, and when she opened the clasp, a telltale, pungent scent hit my nostrils.
She took one of the tight rolls, fitting it between her plump lips. Meline flicked a glance to the river as she fished in another pocket, unable to find what she was looking for.
I extended my first finger, calling the drop of flame forth and watched as it illuminated her freckled cheeks. Made her eyes twinkle.
My queen smirked around the joint, not even needing to thank me, and leaned over to light it on my Flame. Smoke wound into the night, reaching toward the branches arcing over us, red flaring with each inhale she took.
