Page 30 of Winds of Ruin
“Bah, no worries about that. Plus, we always enjoy Lady Elsedora’s company.” My father waved away my concern with his free hand. I smirked at his using El’s first name—that was new.
Callouses had grown over his dark knuckles, reminders of the hours of labor he’d once done for Luz. He’d continued to work as groundskeeper until his knees and back no longer allowed him to. I’d offered him an early retirement upon being promoted to Constable of Luz years ago; he’d scoffed at me.
“Are you both well?” I asked, eager to hear about their unchanged routines. It wasn’t the same as sitting around the dinner table at the end of every week, but it sufficed.
“I have been keeping your father busy with the yard—the garden hasdoubledin size. Oh, and the ever-seed selection has grown bountiful in Luz. What the Soil-wielders at the market sell would amaze you. We have strawberries that are still yielding abundantly, and we planted them seven years ago!”
My father ran a hand through his silver-threaded beard, watching my mother excitedly babble on about the squash harvest next.
He had always been terse. The way he revered Mama when she spoke made me want to be the type of man willing to get down on weak knees to build a garden bed just to see his wife happy.
“That sounds lovely.” I swallowed my hesitation to ask them for anything. It felt wrong. “I could use a favor.”
Mama’s eyes widened in surprise.
Papa said, “Of course.”
“My dear, anything,” Mama added.
“Well… it’s a favor of Mama, specifically, but Papa, if you could see her there safely, it would make me feel better. Can you please check in on Elsedora tomorrow evening? It’s a hard day for her.”
My papa nodded. My mother’s eyes glistened a bit, and she said, “Well, yes. I already planned to.”
My brows rose. “Oh. Good, then.”
She smiled at me weakly. “I go to see her at Lamoreaux every year after we visit with you.”
Elsedora never mentioned that. I cleared my throat, fighting my impulse to question her. What did they talk about? Did she reveal things to my mother that she kept from me for my well-being? It should bemegoing to her, holding her up, not wasting away here, a liability to them all.
My father turned to her abruptly. “I didn’t know that.”
Mama scoffed. “Oh, yes, you did. Where do youthinkI slink off to?”
“I sleep like the dead, Angeline.” He covered his mouth and glanced at me with an apology written across his face.
I laughed, not offended by the choice of words. “You’re right. You sleep deeper than I do right now—and you snore.”
My father’s shoulders slackened with relief as he chuckled.
“But thank you,” I said to Mama. “For caring for her.”
Mama shrugged. “Someone has to, and I like that wildflower. I am glad you have her.”
Wildflower. Never to be tamed. The perfect way to describe Elsedora.
“Yes,” I answered with a smirk. “I like her, too.”
My mother possessed a keen sense of a person’s true nature. She looked at me too knowingly—the same way she had when she’d caught me as a boy sneaking around the grounds with a young Princess Wymark.
This wasn’t the same.
I had no naive expectations of El. She’d never anchor herself to anyone. I no longer let boyish crushes lead me to disappointment.
“She’s rather fond of you,” Mama pried.
The idea of seeing Elsedora again in person warmed me—that dream fueled my hope. But I knew better than to fall for a wildflower…
“Stop planning my wedding, Mama. She is a good friend. Nothing more.”
