Gods. The words were so clear in her mind, though she feared she’d never speak them: she only wanted Lina.

Bri broke the spell locking their eyes, peering back out to the secret oasis surrounding them. Instead of revealing the thoughts in her head, she said, “I know what it’s like to have a mother who sees you as a means to an end.”

Lina bobbed her chin. “She left others to raise me. I don’t know why she had me at all,” Lina said. “She could have just named an heir.”

“Is that what you’ll do?”

“No.” Lina’s gaze dropped to her hands. “No, I’m going to have a family one day. You?”

Bri noted the way Lina forced an air of casualness into her voice, careful not to ask too directly. It made Bri smirk.

“One day,” she said. “Yes.”

She didn’t know how she knew the answer, or why. It was in the same way Carys knew for certain she didn’t want her own children in her future. Perhaps there was an inner wisdom, some magic that spoke only to their souls. Bri didn’t know how she’d accomplish it or when, but she’d envisioned a life with children running around, with laughter filling the halls by day and fantastical stories being whispered around the fires by night.

Bri leaned down to her pack, taking the waxed cloth out from the front pocket. She unwrapped the parcel Rish had made for them the night before. Two perfectly shaped pies filled with chutney and cheese sat inside along with two apples.

Lina grinned as Bri passed her the flaky pastry. “Rish is determined to spoil every last one of us.”

Listening to the rush of water and twittering birds, they ate in companionable silence. The sun rose, brightening the sky as the shadows receded.

Rish’s food was as decadent and delicious as always; she had even packed little bite-sized sugared rolls as a dessert. The green witch had stayed up into the middle of the night to put together the parcel for them. Bri glanced sideways at Lina. It was something neither of their mothers would ever have done.

“What was she like, Aurella?” Lina asked, leaning back on her elbows. She asked it in such a carefree manner, as if chatting about the weather. She turned her face up toward the morning sunlight, a soft grin pulling on her lips as the rays kissed her skin.

Bri’s eyes darted toward her. “Nobody asks me that.”

Lina looked at Bri apologetically. “If you don’t want to talk—”

“No, no,” Bri cut in. “It’s weird acting like she never existed. But I think people don’t want to ask me because they think it’ll hurt . . . and it does. It did. I thought my talking about her might upset them too.”