Chapter Twenty-Five

"I HAD NEVER TRULY BEEN able to turn into or become water. Not fully," Alesta said.

She and I sank onto chairs she made out of the water around us, and I sat on the edge of my seat as she started her tale.

"I could turn parts of myself into water, like my hands or my hair, but never my whole body," she continued. "I certainly couldn't disappear into the water and become a part of it. There was no one to teach me those things, and while I was sure there were old texts that could explain, those books were written in our lost language. The same books I lead you to."

Hearing her mention the texts, I suddenly remembered with vivid clarity swimming in the ocean and finding the underwater library and books.

Eyes going wide, I held up a hand to stop her there. "Wait. You showed me those books?"

Smiling, she nodded. "Where there is water, there is me. As long as you were around water, I could see you when I wanted to, so that day, I was swimming alongside you. It wasn't until you looked in my direction that I realized you could see me. Or rather, see something ."

I slowly bobbed my head, mumbling, "I saw a flicker, like a light or something darting around in the corner of my eye. That—That was you?"

"It was. I wanted to show you the books in hopes that you could find someone to decode the old language. Maybe then you could learn how our lost powers work."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and fiddled with the blue end of it. "I'm working on it, but we haven't figured anything out yet."

She reached across the space and squeezed my hand. "Give it time. I'm hopeful that you'll be able to figure it out. You're so strong, Bria. Stronger than I ever could've dreamed, and I'm so, so proud of you."

Fresh tears crept into my eyes, and she seemed to be getting just as emotional. Smiling, she wiped at my tears, then her own. "Anyway, I wasn't good at becoming water. When your father …" she paused, looking down at her lap. She swallowed hard and seemed to fight the heartache trying to rise up. She cleared her throat and continued, "When your father was killed, I snapped. I was so overcome with grief, the surge of emotion tapped into my powers. Only this time, instead of freezing an ocean or creating a tsunami, I finally did the one thing that had always seemed impossible. I became water."

I leaned in closer, completely swept up in the story.

"When it happened, I forgot everything. It was like I was lost to the tranquility that the water evokes, which I quickly discovered is the danger of this power when untrained. The water calls to us, asking us to stay, and it's so calm that you just listen. But doing that can get you stuck here."

She fell quiet and swallowed hard. "That's what happened to me. I was so eager to not feel the pain and loss of Khal that I gave into the water's pull. I didn't have the drive to fight against it. By the time I realized where and what I was, I was too far gone. I couldn't get back to myself. I couldn't resurface. I couldn't get back to you."

The knowledge that my mother had been alive all this time but stuck as water had my emotions scattering. On one hand, I was absolutely ecstatic, because she was here . I had her right in front of me—speaking, touching, smiling. But at the same time, it broke me, because she was stuck with no real way back to me or others. She was a prisoner to her own powers, and I didn't know how to free her.

"Is there anything we can do to get you back?" I asked, my voice coming out thick. "I-I need you."

"Dewdrop," she whispered, grabbing me and pulling me into her arms. She held me tightly as though she feared I'd suddenly disappear. "I've tried endlessly to return ever since I became aware of what happened to me. I'm just not strong enough anymore. I've weakened after all this time here."

Refusing to give up, I said, "Maybe we can find answers on how to get you back in those books. Or maybe we can find a way to make you stronger."

She gave me a soft smile and shook her head. "It took a great emotional explosion to bring me here. It would probably take another to pull me back."

"But—"

"I'll keep trying, don't worry." She ran a loving hand through my blue-tinted hair. "I'll never stop fighting to return to you, Dewdrop."

I was determined to bring her back. There had to be a technique or something that could help her return. I wouldn't give up on her.

Looking around at the limitless water, I pushed past the lump in my throat. "So you're here. You're alive, but Dad …"

I met her eyes again, and at the mention of my dad, her blue eyes flashed with deep-rooted pain. She shook her head and whispered, "He's gone."

The news choked me and sent a pang right through my heart. Having my mom right here in front of me had made a new hope rise within me, one in which I'd find my father in much the same way. Having her confirm he was truly dead broke my heart all over again.

Seeing her own sorrow written so clearly on her face broke my heart more. She ached over his loss, and this news seemed to strike something inside me. I faintly recalled someone—a figure with fiery red hair flashed in my mind—telling me about rumors concerning my parents. People said they hated each other but ended up happy together in the end.

Wanting to know the truth, I asked, "Were you two happy? Did you—did you love each other?"

Her eyes widened in shock before her features smoothed back out in understanding. "You've heard the rumors."

I nodded.

Her lips lifted, and her eyes took on a faraway look. "Your father and I had an arranged marriage. It's true that back then I found him frustrating and a tad annoying, because he would consistently show off in front of me. It wasn't until after we'd married that I learned he did all those things because he'd liked me for far longer than our engagement or marriage. I found myself falling for him early on, and we stayed in love until the day he died." She paused and added, "I'm still in love with him."

Smiling at the mental image of my parents laughing together, I asked, "Then why were there rumors that you didn't like him or the marriage?"

She looked down at her lap, and her shoulders sagged with the weight of memories. "That was your father's doing. He was always making himself look like the bad guy to protect those he loved. That rumor was no different."

"I don't understand."

Alesta took a deep breath. "I'd always wanted a family. I wanted to be a mother, even more so after my life with your father began. Everyone was always quick to remind me of how powerful I was, how amazing I was, and how incredible my children would certainly be. Yet with all that power, I couldn't do the one thing I wanted most."

She gave me a sad smile and looked out into the distance. "We tried for so long, but I just couldn't seem to get pregnant. People were starting to talk and question me, so Khal took the blame. He said he hadn't earned my trust or love yet with all his ‘flaws.' People began to believe that he just wasn't a good husband, and until he changed, an heir wouldn't come. I hated this rumor, but he refused to let anyone think otherwise. He'd rather have the whole Kingdom whispering behind his back than to let anyone speak poorly of me."

Tears pricked my eyes again, and the ache in my chest flared anew. The tale made me miss him even more, and knowing I'd never get the chance to tell him I loved him or see his affection first-hand was like a jagged blade sinking into my chest and twisting.

I worked to find my voice. "Dad sounds amazing."

She nodded and wiped her eyes. "He was. He was a wonderful man who was taken unjustly. I'd tried explaining the truth to Myra when she came for revenge, but she didn't listen. She killed Khal as revenge for his killing Balgair, and before she could do the same to me, I ended up here."

Hearing those two names—Myra and Balgair—spurred a sort of buzz in my head, like a memory trying to resurface. There was a reason those names sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place why.

Wanting to hear more and see if I could figure it out, I slowly asked, "Did you have a lot of run-ins with Balgair and Myra?"

Her blue eyes found mine, and she went quiet. She opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. "Balgair … He was … Well, he was my best friend."

I nodded leisurely. Maybe that was why the name felt familiar. It was my mom's best friend. It seemed plausible, but the more seconds that ticked by, the more the clouds shading parts of my memories began to recede. I replayed my mother's words in my head, and I honed in on the part about my dad having killed Balgair. That seemed to strike something inside me.

That has to be why the name sounds familiar. It's a man my dad killed.

"Balgair was my dearest friend," Alesta continued at my silence. "I didn't know Myra as well. She was really only ever open and close with Balgair. But he and I were as close as friends could be."

That, of course, posed the question of why .

Shaking my head incredulously, I asked, "If you and Balgair were friends, why did Dad kill him?"

"That's a long story." She glanced away from me, and suddenly, she sat up straighter, as though an idea had occurred to her. "Actually, I can show you." She held her hand up in front of us, and the drifting water slowed until it swirled around itself, creating a moving frame. "Water is everywhere. It gives life, it sees all, and it connects us. Because of that, we can use it to see loved ones or to view memories."

The space in the center of the circling frame began to glow, much like the light that Alesta had been looking at when I'd approached. Shapes slowly formed within the frame, and soft sounds began to play.

Alesta turned to me. "Let me show you what happened."