The words warmed Calenne’s heart. But they also awoke an old, lingering resentment. “It didn’t happen all at once. You never visited. I’d have been overjoyed to see you. I needed to see you. But you never came.”

Elda scowled, and stared down into her tea with dark and distrustful eyes. “Those first years after Katya died . . . You probably don’t remember, but folk didn’t come and go in Branghall as they have of late. And me? I kept expecting to end on a deportation scow, but I guess a good apothecary’s hard to find.”

She nudged the mug back and forth across the table top, turning the handle this way and that. Unwilling to interrupt, Calenne let her eyes drift across the nigh-endless collection of jars, pots, vials and urns that crowded the kitchen shelves. She’d vague recollections of memorising them all when a young girl, determined to learn everything Elda could teach. Now the memories were as dry and dusty as those abandoned aspirations.

“And then afterwards,” said Elda at last, “when the Council’s lackeys loosened up a bit . . . ? Well, I decided a clean break might be best for us both.”

Best for Elda, in other words. “I sent you an invitation to my wedding. You never replied.”

“Half of Eskavord had invitations. And near as I can tell, you’re not married.”

“No.” Even the idea of it seemed a lifetime ago. “He died.”

Elda stared at her, then reached across the table and took her hand. “My dear child. I’d no idea. What must you think of me?”

Calenne smiled, more for Elda’s sake than her own. “It doesn’t matter. Lumestra punished me for selfishness, and Kasamor paid the price. I have to live with that.”

Elda raised an eyebrow. “And if Lumestra’s in no position to judge you? If there’s nothing waiting for us but the mists, and the Dark?”

“I still have to live with it, don’t I?” Calenne broke off, recognising she’d spoken more archly than she’d intended. “I’m starting to wonder if that’s all life is – living with your mistakes.”

“Ever the earnest child. I can still see you as you were when your mother took you away. Such concern in your eyes.”

Calenne remembered so little of that night. She certainly didn’t recall feeling sympathy for others. Only for herself – a state in which she’d lived ever since.

Wiry fingers gripped hers tighter. “It will pass. That’s why we seek triumphs – to balance our failures. Just as seeing the woman you’ve become eases my regret at staying away.”

Calenne blinked away sudden tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words turned dry on her tongue. “I—”

A triplet of booming thuds shuddered the front door. A pause, enough to take a breath, and the unseen fist hammered again.