Starlight and Ashes (six)

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**Sorry, I know it’s been like ten years. I expected to have more writing time in the summer, but if anything I have less! I’ll try to have chapter seven out as soon as possible. Thanks for sticking with me!

Masterlist

chapter six

Milena

I once asked my parents what life in the Spring Court was like.

I was young, maybe ten years old, but the memory is etched in my mind like an engraving on a stone.

I remember my mother’s expression falling, contentedness merging into distant sorrow. She quickly covered it up, but I still saw and I still remember. She was quick to brush the question away, distracting me with something like candy or a game. I caught Papa’s eye, searching for some sort of explanation. Looking to my mother, he too avoided the question. Alright, I could take a hint. The Spring Court was off-limits, for some unknown reason.

I probably would have forgotten about the incident, but later that night, as Papa was tucking me in, he whispered me a story.

Kneeling next to my bed, the blue faelight casting shadows across his face in an eerie, ghost-like manner, he told me about a male and female–mates–who lived in the Spring Court.

They lived in a cozy little cottage covered in crawling purple clematis, and surrounded on all sides by hedges of sweet wild roses. They had a garden where they grew all the best vegetables, and great big fruit trees. Forget-me-nots lined the path to the front door, which was painted green to match the evergreens. White lace curtains hung in the windows, which were always open to let in the perfume of the flowers.

When it rained, the two would take a stroll down the lane, faces raised to the sky to feel the drops on their cheeks. When it was sunny, they sat together on the porch swing and read each other poetry.

They spent their days tending to the cottage and the garden, sometimes selling their flowers, vegetables, and fruit in the nearby town. They spent their nights whispering plans for the future–what colour to paint the fence, what new flower to grow, what to name their children.

They had neighbours, too. On the left, just a short walk down the road, was a sweet old lady. She baked them all sorts of cookies and squares, and invited them for tea at least once a week. They always obliged.

On the right, quite a bit further down the road, maybe an hour’s walk away, was a male who lived alone. He was kind to the couple, but kept his distance. He always did promise to keep an eye on the female whenever her mate had to go away, though.

The couple lived in their peaceful little cottage for many years. They were happy with their quaint lives, and they were happy with each other.

My papa left after saying those words. He didn’t stick around to answer any of the many questions I had about the story.

Was it a true story? Who were the couple? Are they still alive?

These questions plagued me for nearly a century.

Well, at least I know the answers now.

The letter Mr. Hobkins gave me turned out to be more telling than I could have expected. Addressed to my mother, it was a letter from a woman named Rhiannon Moss. In her letter, Rhiannon reminisced about the years she knew my mother and her mate. How they lived down the road, how they came over for tea once a week. Rhiannon expressed her sorrow that she never got to meet mum’s child–me, I should hope. I don’t know what I’d do if I found out my mother had kept a sibling from me.

It all lines up with the little I know of my parents’ past. They left the Spring Court when Mum found out she was pregnant, so this Rhiannon lady of course never would have met me.

The more I read of Rhiannon’s letter, the more confused I became, although I was finally getting some answers. Why did my parents keep this from me?

Even more confusing, is what Rhiannon says about the male who lives down the road (the single male from Papa’s story, I presume). Apparently, he went crazed with anger shortly after my parents left. His sister had to come live with him because he could hardly look after himself. But two weeks ago (since the letter was sent, four weeks ago from now), his sister passed away, and he disappeared.

That’s why Rhiannon wrote the letter, she says. To warn Mum about him, in case he came to find her for whatever reason.

All this new information is making my head swim.

Rean, who has sat with me the whole time, letting me read and process, silently hands me a cup of sweetened tea.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” it comes out as a sigh, “I just can’t make sense of it all.”

Luna, who had been pacing the room since Rean and I arrived with the letter, sits next to me on the sofa and takes the letter from my hand. The parchment is crumpled where I had clutched it so tightly. “Can I read it?”

I nod, bringing the cup of tea to my lips and taking a cautious sip of the hot drink.

Luna reads, I sip, Rean puts his hand on my knee. Corin comes back with a tray of food, which he places on the low round table before sitting on the sofa opposite the one the rest of us are on. Rean goes right for the food, but eating is the last thing on my mind right now.

I knew I didn’t know much about my parents’ pasts, but now I wonder if I ever knew them at all.

“I wonder what happened to their neighbour.” Luna looks up from the letter.

“Rhiannon?”

“No, the other one. Emrick Maddox.”

I drop my cup.

“Say that name again.”

“Mila, are you alright?” Rean kneels in front of me, at first to clean up the mess I made, and now to worriedly search my face for answers.

“The other neighbour’s name was Emrick Maddox.”

“Have you heard that name before?” Luna puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“It’s the last thing my father said before– before he died. I had no idea what it meant. I guess I had forgotten until now, or didn’t notice when I was reading the letter. How could I have missed it?”

“Do you think he’s the one who did this?” Luna’s face suddenly becomes focused, her dark brows narrowing in anger and protectiveness. My friend, always ready to seek revenge for me.

“Wait, did what?” Rean looks lost. I didn’t even realize I hadn’t told him that Luna and I don’t believe what the authorities told us about the fire. I see the exact moment he understands. “You don’t think the fire was an accident.”

“It all matches up, Rean. Why else would my father say his name? It had to have been a warning.” My mind is reeling. I finally have some answers, a theory that makes sense. I have to pace the room to try and keep up with my thoughts. “And now we know from Rhiannon’s letter that Emrick has been missing, so it’s entirely possible that he set my house on fire and killed my parents.”

“But what’s his motive?” Corin, who has been silent until now, speaks up. “Why would Emrick even want to kill your parents?”

I stop in my tracks. The high from seconds ago has all but disappeared, replaced with the empty hopeless feeling of not knowing.

“Rhiannon wrote the letter as a warning, Corin. Emrick went crazy when Mila’s parents left the Spring Court.” Luna hands him the letter.

I’m having trouble keeping all of this straight. What would I do if I didn’t have some level-headed people with me?

“It has to be Emrick. I’m sure of it. And he’s still out there. Who knows what else he’ll do?”

Rean, looking determined, stands from the couch. He joins, taking my hand in his. He squeezes once. “We’ll find him.”

Luna comes and takes my other hand. Corin stands behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

This is my family. Fierce, protective, loving.

My parents would have loved Rean and Corin too, as they loved Luna.

I feel their presence in the room. A ghost of Papa’s hand on my shoulder, Mum’s on my cheek.

I can’t help the tears that fall, but I feel no sadness. All I can feel is the immense love of my friends, my parents, and my mate.

We can do this. We can track down Emrick and avenge the deaths of my Mum and Papa. This is why Papa warned me, why the letter was brought to us.

“I think we need to pay Rhiannon a visit. If we are going to find Emrick, we need to know more about him and my parents.”