“Trust yourself, Isolde,” she said. “Your soul has been speaking and you have not been listening.”

I felt almost as if I were being reprimanded, but she squeezed my hands and I focused on her touch—soft and warm and real.

“It is no fault of your own,” she said. “This world is afraid of powerful women.”

There was no greater example than the Burning. Our trauma had crossed lifetimes. It was in our blood; it lived in the air and earth; it whispered in the dark.

It had silenced us for too long.

“Trust yourself,” my mother said. “As I do.”

I studied her dark eyes, wishing I’d had her forever.

“I have needed you,” I said, my voice breaking.

She smiled, and though her eyes watered, I sensed she did not agree. She lifted my hand and placed a seed in my palm, curling my fingers tight around it.

“For when you return to your plane,” she said.

“What is this?” I asked, but her hands were already loosening around mine and I felt a sense of panic rise within me.

“Don’t let go,” she said.

“Mother!”

I was torn from her and broke the surface of the water, surprised when I found I was alone. I had felt as if I had been pulled with such force—I was sure someone else had to be with me. I looked around the quiet wood, but there was nothing other than an unsettling stillness to the world, and I knew it meant we were about to be plunged into chaos.

My hand was clenched, and as I uncurled my fingers, I found the seed my mother had given me. It was the size of my thumbnail and felt like a weight in the palm of my hand. I nearly burst into tears once more.

She was real. I had actually visited her.

I left the water, dressed, and hurried back to camp.

***

When I returned to the tent, twilight was upon us, and Adrian was gone, though I noticed a wooden goblet on the table. When I checked, it was full of his blood.

My heart seized a moment, both at his thoughtfulness but also at the implication. He did not wish for me to touch him.

I did not drink it.

I stored the seed my mother had given me and changed into warmer clothes quickly, in case Adrian was in search of me. But I found him only a few feet from the tent, speaking with two of his scouts.

He sensed my approach because he went rigid. It was an observation that both hurt and angered me. If anyone should feel uneasy, it should be me.

The scouts ceased speaking and bowed to me.

“Good evening, my queen,” said one.

“Good evening,” I replied. “Is there news?”

I did not think there would be, given that it was just now nightfall, but I was curious and worried. The two glanced at Adrian.