Page 68 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
But there is something more. His fear is growing through me, the pit in my stomach becoming a tree. For the first time, I think there may be an answer to find.
“And Freyr?” I ask, feeling him come undone. The spider web of emotions unraveling itself.
“Wendolyn.”
“Do you know what Ma was involved in?” I ask once more, my voice shaking with the growing volume.
Finally, Pa meets my gaze. “Doyou?” The fear isn’t just in his voice or in my bones anymore; it’s written in his eyes.
Written like all the things I’ve learned, left for me to find in her journal.
“I think I do,” I answer. Pa reads me, searching for the truth.
He finds it.
He knows I do not lie.
“Let it go.” His jaw tightens.
“I don’t believe that’s what she would want,” I whisper.
Ma would want me to uncover what Folkara has planned for the Weapon. She’d want me to stop something with any propensity for destruction. Iknowher.
Knewher.
Pa’s voice is as soft as mine now. “Willow would never want you involved in this.”
“That’s not true.”
“You can’t do what she could’ve done. Drop it.”
The words land like arrows in my chest.
Never once has anyone told me I can’t do something. They’ve only ever pushed me to domore.
I’m left in a state of shock, and before I can fight for further answers, Jasper walks in.
His green eyes light up when he looks at me. He reeks of what could only be defined as nostalgia.
Jasper opens his arms, the way he used to, expecting me to get up and run into them. It’s been so long. I’m so far from that girl he knew. But I run anyway, crashing into him. At first, I stiffen in his arms, despite their familiarity. Then I force myself to sink.
He spins me, and it’s easy to pretend I am anything but what I’ve become, for a moment.
“My favorite sister has returned!” Jasper says as he sets me down. He’s so happy. In turn, I get to feel that smile. His warmth.
“My favorite youngest brother.” I try to smile. But even with the warmth of his excitement, Pa’s worry boils in the background.
“How long are you here for?” The remnants of soil and magic waft off Jasper, lingering in the air.
“For a meal,” I say, suddenly feeling guilty.
Jasper only smiles. His hair is the lightest of the four of us kids, and he doesn’t have freckles the way Terran and I do.
He carries the least of Ma in appearance. But I always thought he had her spirit.
He can make anything fun.
“Cassius should be back soon,” Jasper says, looking into the living area. “Is Terran home?”
