“So, Hera,” Father began as he cut into his meal. “Tell us of your home. Where do you hail from? Your accent does not quite sound like the city center.”
Hera took a delicate bite, her expression thoughtful. “We reside in the Silverwood Vale, just outside the markets.”
“And your family?” Lyra prompted.
“My father is a cartographer, and my mother tends the village’s flower gardens.”
A fresh wave of shame hit me. I had not even bothered to learn the names of her parents.
“A cartographer!” Father exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “How fascinating. I have always said that the maps of the Vale are the most intricate in the realm. Do you share his gift for the compass, then?”
Hera laughed lightly. “My hand is steadier with a quill than a compass, I am afraid. I am a scribe by trade..”
She turned and gave me a soft look, a little smile meant to look intimate. I managed only a stiff, wooden nod in return.
I felt like a marionette with frayed strings.
Mother’s eyes drifted before she cleared her throat and poured a glass of red wine.
“So, where did you two meet? Kaelia was suspiciously vague about the whole thing,” Lyra prodded, leaning over her plate.
“The Garden of Thrynn. It was a chance meeting while I was chaperoning my younger brother. Kaelia looked so lost among the statues, I simply could not help myself.”
Mother swallowed her food, her gaze softening. “How brave, dear. To make such a swift decision. It reminds me of when Kaelia’s father and I first met. I remember thinking how much our souls resonated.”
She looked at my father, a loving smile gracing her lips. He returned it with a look of such raw devotion that it made my heart ache.
Mother turned her gaze back to me, a faint furrow appearing between her brows. “You seem quieter than usual, Kaelia, love. Is the casserole not to your liking?”
“It is perfect, Mother,” I said, forcing a brittle smile. “Just overwhelmed with happiness.”
“You have certainly picked a beautiful one,” Lyra teased, nudging Hera’s shoulder. “I expect to hear all about Silverwood Vale tomorrow.”
The conversation flowed on, with Father sharing tales of his youth and Lyra asking about Hera’s work as a scribe. Hera answered every question with a grace that bordered on perfection whilst my lips remained sealed.
When the plates were cleared, Mother rose to fetch the honey cakes. She paused at my chair, leaning down to speak into my ear.
“You look happy, Kaelia. But you are distant. Is everything truly well?”
Her eyes searched mine with a softness that made it hard not to break.
I almost let the truth blister from my tongue, but I forced a laugh instead. “Oh Mother, you know me. I always grow quiet when I am overwhelmed.”
I forced a smile and turned my face to Hera, leaning into her space as if I could not bear to be an inch away.
Mother patted my shoulder, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Perhaps. But a mother knows her daughter’s heart. We will talk more later, sweet one.”
She straightened and left the room, leaving me with a knot of dread in my stomach.
“I must head home before the sun sets completely,” Hera said, standing up and moving away from the table. She gave a formal dip and offered my family an endearing smile. “It was a lovely supper. Thank you for welcoming me so warmly.”
My parents rose with her, Father offering a firm hand and Mother a warm embrace. As Hera turned to me, her composure remained flawless. She offered a brief, almost imperceptible squeeze of my hand before stepping through the door and into the dusky night.
The front door clicked shut, and the comfortable hum of family conversation evaporated. Father cleared his throat, the familiar sound he made before asking about my work. Mother, however, was already looking at me, her smile gone.
“Kaelia, my love, come here,” she said softly.
Lyra and Theron exchanged a quick glance.