Torn (Trylle Trilogy, Book 2) (19 page)

Thomas rushed in first, but I’d already lowered Elora to the ground. She’d twitched, almost as if she was having a small seizure, but she hadn’t woken up.

I’d crouched down next to her, and Thomas pushed me out of the way to tend to her. I leaned against the couch, watching his attempts to revive her, and prayed my mother would be okay.

“Wendy,” Finn said, and I hadn’t even heard him come in. I looked up at him with tears blurring my vision, and he held out his hand to me. I took it, and let him pull me to my feet.

“Get Aurora Kroner,” Thomas told Finn.
“
Now
.”

“Yes, sir,” Finn nodded.

He still had my hand, and he pulled me out of the room. He walked fast because time was of the essence. My legs felt numb and rubbery, but I pushed them to hurry with him.

“Go find Tove or Willa. Even Duncan,” Finn said when we reached the main hall. “I’ll come and get you later.”

“What’s wrong with Elora?” I asked.

“I don’t have time, Wendy.” Finn shook his head, his eyes pained. “I will get you when I can tell you anything.”

“Go,” I nodded to hurry him along.

Finn raced out the front door, leaving me in the hall, alone and scared.

Duncan found me exactly as Finn had left me. He’d heard about Elora’s collapse from the other trackers, who’d gone into lock down mode. I heard them bustling about the palace, but it was secondary. My mother might be dying.

Duncan suggested we go up to my room, but I didn’t want to be that far away. I needed to be able to hear if anything happened. We sat in the living room, and he tried to comfort me, but it was futile.

Finn came back a few minutes later with Aurora, and they rushed down the hall. Her dress billowed out behind her, and her hair came loose from its bun, blowing back as she ran.

Garrett and Willa came shortly after. Garrett went down to see the progress with Elora, but Willa sat with me. She put her arm around me and kept reminding me of how strong Elora was. Nothing could stop her.

“But… what if she dies?” I asked, staring emptily at the unlit fireplace in front of me.

The living room had a horrible chill from the icy wind beating against the windows. Duncan had been trying to light a fire for the past few minutes. He knelt in front of the fireplace.

“She won’t die.” Willa squeezed me tighter.

“No, Willa, I’m being honest,” I said. “What happens if the Queen dies?”

“She’s not going to die.” Willa forced a smile. “We don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“I’ve about got this fire lit,” Duncan lied to change the subject.

“It’s gas, Duncan,” Willa told him. “You just turn a knob.”

“Oh.” Duncan did as she said, and a bright flame roared up through it.

Staring down at Elora’s blood that had gotten on my shirt, I was surprised to find how scared I felt. I didn’t want her to die.

She always seemed so strong, so composed, and it made me wonder how much pain she was in. We’d met in the drawing room today, and she’d wanted to meet me in the study. She wasn’t well enough to move. She shouldn’t have been standing or exerting herself at all, but I’d been arguing with her. I’d made it worse.

Her sense of duty came before everything else.

“Princess,” Finn said, pulling me from my thoughts. He stood in the entrance to the living room, his face drawn.

“Is she okay?” I jumped up at the sight of him, pulling away from Willa.

“She’s asked to see you.” Finn pointed towards her drawing room and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“So she’s awake? She’s alive? Is she okay? Does she know what happened? Did Aurora fix her?” I asked. My questions came out too rapidly for him to answer, but I couldn’t seem to slow myself.

“She’d rather tell you everything herself,” Finn said simply.

“That sounds like her,” I nodded. She was awake and wanted to see me. That had to be a good sign.

Willa and Duncan gave me reassuring smiles, but they couldn’t mask their anxiety. I told them I’d be back soon, and that I was sure everything was fine. I don’t know if that was true or not, but I had to ease their fears somehow.

I walked with Finn down the corridor to the parlor. Finn kept his pace slow and deliberate. I wanted to run to Elora, but I forced myself to stay with him. I wrapped my arms around myself and rubbed my hands along them.

“Is she angry with me?” I asked him.

“The Queen?”
Finn seemed surprised. “No.
Of course not.
Why would she be?”

 
“I was arguing with her when she… If I hadn’t been antagonizing her, she might not have gotten so… sick.”

“No, you didn’t do this,” he shook his head. “In fact, it’s good that you were with her. You got her help right away.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You called for help using your thoughts.” He tapped his forehead. “We were too far away, and we wouldn’t have known if you didn’t do that. Elora might be in a lot worse shape if you hadn’t been there.”

“What is wrong with her?” I asked him directly. “Do you know?”

“She’ll need to tell you.”

I thought about pushing Finn for more information, but we were almost to her. Besides, it didn’t feel right to argue with him now.

His whole demeanor had changed, seeming softer and somber. He’d let some of his guard down around me again, and while I wasn’t in the mood to take advantage of that, I did enjoy the familiar feel of being with him without a giant wall between us. I missed him.

Aurora came out of the parlor just before we reached it. Her normally flawless skin had gone gray. Her dark eyes were glossed over, and her hair hung in unruly waves around her face. She leaned up against the wall, supporting herself, and she struggled to catch her breath.

“Marksinna?”
Finn quickly went to her, putting his arm around her to steady her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m only tired,” Aurora said as Finn helped her to a chair in the hallway. She moved like an old woman, and her bones creaked as she eased herself down in the chair. “Will you get my son? I need to lie down, and I want him to help me home.”

“Yes, of course,” Finn said, and he gave me an apologetic look. “Princess, will you be alright seeing the Queen alone?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Go get Tove. I’ll be fine.”

Finn hurried away to retrieve Tove for his mother, and I went on to the room. I felt guilty for leaving Aurora alone in the hallway, looking so completely drained, but I had my own mother to attend to.

The door to the parlor was still open, and I stayed in the hall for a moment, watching.

Elora lay on her chaise lounge, the way she had when I arrived, but she had a black fur blanket over her. Her raven hair had gone even whiter, so it now appeared to be white streaked with black and not the other way around. Her eyes were closed, and the blood had been wiped from her face.
 

Garrett had pulled up a chair so he sat right next to her head. He held one of her hands in both of his, and gazed at her with worry and adoration. His tousled hair was even more unkempt than normal, and some of her blood stained his shirt.

On the other side of the chaise lounge, Thomas stood keeping watch. He had the same stoic stance all the trackers did when they were on guard duty, but his eyes rested heavily on Elora. They weren’t filled with the same intensity as Garrett, but something glimmered in them, some faint reminder of whatever had transpired between Thomas and Elora years ago.

When she opened her eyes, it was Thomas that Elora looked up at. Garrett’s jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, but he said nothing. He didn’t even drop her hand.

“Elora?”
I said timidly and stepped inside the room.

“Princess.”
Her voice sounded weak, and she made a poor attempt at a smile.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked.

“Yes.” She tried to sit up, but Garrett gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Elora, you need to rest,” Garrett told her.

“I am fine.” She waved him off but lowered herself back down. “I need to speak privately with my daughter. Can you both leave us for a moment?”

“Yes,
Your
Majesty.” Thomas bowed. “But for your sake, please take it easy.”

“Of course, Thomas.”
She offered him a tired smile, and he bowed again before leaving.

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need me,” Garrett said but he was hesitant to stand. He wouldn’t even walk towards the door until Elora glared at him. “If you need anything, call for me. Or send the Princess. Okay?”

“If it will get you to leave quicker, I will agree to anything,” Elora sighed.

Garrett paused as he passed me, and he looked like he wanted to say something, probably reminding me to take it easy. Elora said his name, and he hurried along. He closed the door behind him, and I took his seat next to Elora.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I’ve been better, obviously.” She readjusted the blanket over her, getting more comfortable on the chaise. “But I will live to fight another day, and that’s what matters.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Why did you just collapse?”

“How old do you think I am?” Elora asked and looked right at me, so her eyes met mine. A few days ago, they’d been almost black, but now they had the gray haze of cataracts.

Her age was a hard question to answer. When I’d first met her, I’d have pegged she was in her fifties. A very beautiful fifty, but even then, she’d had an aged quality under her stunning features.

Now
laying
on the chaise, frail and tired, Elora looked even older than that. But I didn’t want to say that to her, of course.

“Um… forty, maybe?”
I guessed low.

“You’re kind, and a bad liar.” She pushed herself up, so she was sitting up a bit. “That’s something you’ll need to work on. The horrible reality is that being a leader involves a lot of lying.”

“I’ll practice my poker face later,” I said. “You look good, though, if that’s what you’re asking.
Just tired and rundown.”

“I am tired and rundown,” Elora admitted wearily. “And I’m only thirty-nine.”

“Thirty-nine what?”
I asked, confused, and she propped her head on her hand so she could look at me.

“Thirty-nine years old,” she said, smiling wider. “You seem shocked. I don’t blame you. Although, I’m surprised you didn’t catch on sooner. I told you that I married your father when I was very young. I had you when I was twenty-one.”

“But…” I stammered. “Is that what’s wrong with you? Are you aging too fast?”

“Not exactly.”
She pursed her lips. “It’s the price we pay for our abilities. When we use them, they drain us and age us.”

“All the stuff you do – like the
mindspeak
and holding Loki prisoner – that’s killing you?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so,” she nodded.

“Then why do it?” I wanted to shout at her, but I kept my voice as even as I could. “I can understand defending yourself, but calling Finn with
mindspeak
? Why would you do something if it’s killing you?”

“The
mindspeak
doesn’t use as much.” Elora waved it off. “The things that are really draining
I
only do when I have to, like housing a prisoner. But what uses it the most is the precognitive painting, and that I can’t control.”

I glanced at the several paintings Elora had
leaned
up against the windows. Across the hall, Elora had a locked room filled with these paintings.
 

“What do you mean you can’t control it?” I asked.
“Just don’t do it.”

“I can’t see the visions, but they fill my head.” She gestured to her forehead. “It’s an agonizing blackness that takes over until I paint and get them out. I can’t stop them from coming, and it’s too painful to ignore them. I would go insane if I tried to keep them all inside.”