Everyone knows that all wolves have soulmates, but some don't know that nymphs are blessed with mates as well. When a nymph meets its mate, its wings sprout for the first time; it's the tell-tale sign for all nymphs.
Except Clarestonia.
Clare's wi...
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The silence is deafening as Galan leads me to his study. He keeps glancing back at me as if he can't believe I'm actually here.
When we enter the room, he gestures for me to have a seat across from him at a solid oak desk. He observes me for a moment, as if trying to commit my features to memory.
"When did she tell you about me?" he suddenly asks before I can say anything. My eyes widen and I suddenly find it very difficult to breathe. "Your mother, I mean." I open my mouth to speak, but close it again, unsure of how to even have this conversation. "How is she?" he asks before I can even answer his first question.
"Galan, I-"
"You can call me dad," he interrupts me, sounding almost giddy. He clears his throat, sitting back in his seat, as if realizing he is probably being a little over the top. "If you want, that is. I'm sorry, am I acting weird?" I force out a nervous chuckle and nod a couple times.
"Yeah, but it's okay. This whole situation is weird," I tell him. "But, um, to answer your question..." I trail off. "My mother, uh, Scarlett? You said that was her name?" His eyebrows furrow in obvious confusion but he nods in response. "I, well, never knew her. She died giving birth to me, I was told."
I watch Galan's face contort in pain as he realizes that this woman that he once loved is gone - and has been for over two decades.
"Scarlett is..." he trails off in disbelief. He is unable to say the words.
"Did you know Arwen and Duncan Ward?" I ask him before he can spiral down that thought path. A look of recognition passes along his face, and he appears to connect a few dots.
"A met them a couple times, but they were closer with your mother," he answers. I can tell there is more to it than that, but he doesn't divulge. "Ward. Your mate's parents?" I nod in response. "Did they raise you, then?" he asks, appearing delighted. He thinks I spent my whole life with my mate. "That must have been-"
"Actually," I cut him off, trying to ignore the lump that is attempting to rise in my throat, "they gave me to a really nice wolf named Cyrena who raised me. I just found out about all of this a couple days ago."
As expected, he has a million questions. I patiently answer every one of them, telling him all about Cyrena and my friends and my mate. I tell him about how despicable I find Arwen and it appears we hold the same opinion. He asks me about being a nymph and what it was like having my wings at such a young age. It feels amazing being able to talk to him so naturally like this.
"If you don't mind, I have a few questions, too," I say once our conversation dies down a little bit. He nods almost too eagerly. "Well, for starters, my name. It's significant, but I have no idea why."
"Clarestonia was my mother's name," he answers almost instantly. It doesn't take any further prodding for him to start sharing. "She was such a wonderful woman. She ran a care center for children if their parents needed someone to watch them. She loved your mother a lot and your mother loved her, too." I don't know why hearing all of this brings tears to my eyes, but he pulls a tissue out as he continues telling me about the woman I'm named after. I feel like I can never live up to my namesake. "I had always wanted to name a daughter after my mother - your sister's name is Estonia, actually. I only told your mother that once, but she told me that if she ever had a daughter, she wanted to name her after my mother as well."
