The Broken Sky

Chapter 8: A Mother's Embrace

Ramiel's breath hitched as she tried to begin her carefully rehearsed explanation, but the words came out as a tangled mess of half-formed sentences and choked sobs. "I... I thought... something was wrong... with Rhysand... or you... I just—"

Her mother, eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and fear, cut her off sharply. "Ramiel, do you have any idea what you've done? How dangerous it was to come here alone? You could have been hurt—or worse!" Her voice trembled with the intensity of her emotions, her wings flaring behind her as she struggled to contain her anger. Ramiel had never seen her mother so upset.

The two boys at the table, who had been staring at the scene in wide-eyed silence, exchanged nervous glances. They had never seen Rhysand's mother like this before. The tension in the room was thick, and the air seemed to crackle with the latent power that radiated from the High Lady of the Night Court.

As Ramiel's mother finally noticed their presence, she softened her tone just enough to give them a command. "Cassian, Azriel, go to your room. Now."

The boys didn't need to be told twice. They quickly retreated, casting curious glances at Ramiel as they passed by her, heading back into the room she had so recently entered through. The names Cassian and Azriel settled in Ramiel's mind, but she had no time to think about them as her mother turned her attention back to her.

Without another word, her mother pulled her down the hallway and into the small bathroom. The space was cramped, and the steam from the hot water in the bath only added to the stifling atmosphere. Ramiel's mother, still seething, began to strip her daughter of her travel-worn clothes, pushing her into the warm bathwater with more force than was necessary.

As she scrubbed the dirt and grime from Ramiel's skin, she lectured her in a low, intense voice. "You are the daughter of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, Ramiel. You cannot just run off like this! This is a war camp, not some playground. You should have stayed at home, where you belong."

Ramiel winced at the roughness of her mother's hands and the sharpness of her words, but she forced herself to respond. "I had to come," she insisted, her voice small but determined. "I felt something... something bad was going to happen to Rhysand or to you. I couldn't just sit there and do nothing."

The frantic movements of her mother's hands slowed, her fingers pausing mid-scrub. She looked down at her daughter, her anger giving way to something softer, more pained. "Prescience," she whispered to herself, as if naming the strange gift her daughter possessed might make it easier to understand. She had always known that Ramiel was different, that her senses were more attuned to the world around her than those of most fae. But this... this was something else entirely.

Ramiel's mother took a deep breath, her hands finally coming to rest as she sank to her knees beside the tub. She pulled the now-clean Ramiel into her arms, soaking her own clothes in the process. "Oh, my sweet girl," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "I was so scared when I saw you standing there. You're only six years old, and you flew all the way here by yourself. You must have been so frightened, so tired..."

Ramiel hadn't fully realized the magnitude of her journey until that moment. She had pushed herself beyond her limits, driven by a fierce need to protect her brother and mother. But now, with her mother's arms wrapped tightly around her, the full weight of what she had done—what she had endured—came crashing down on her like a tidal wave.

The exhaustion, the fear, the loneliness of flying through the night sky with nothing but the stars for company—all of it hit her at once. Ramiel's small body began to shake, and she buried her face in her mother's shoulder, finally allowing herself to break down.

Tears poured from her eyes, and her sobs echoed in the small room, filled with the raw pain and relief she had been holding back for days. Her wings drooped, heavy and lifeless, as her mother's wings encircled her protectively, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.

Her mother held her close, whispering soothing words, rocking her gently as if she were still a small child. "It's okay, my love. You're safe now. I've got you."

After what felt like hours, the sobs finally subsided into quiet sniffles. Ramiel's body was utterly spent, the last of her energy drained by the emotional release. Her mother, still holding her close, lifted her from the bath, wrapping her in a soft towel and drying her with care.

Ramiel barely registered any of it, her mind and body too exhausted to protest as her mother dressed her in a warm nightgown and laid her down in the bed they would share that night. The familiar scent of her mother's lavender soap and the softness of the bedclothes were a balm to her frayed nerves, lulling her into a state of near-sleep.

But even as her eyes grew heavy and her breathing slowed, one thought remained at the forefront of her mind: Rhysand.

She tried to fight against the pull of sleep, tried to keep her eyes open long enough to voice her lingering concern. But her body betrayed her, dragging her into the comforting darkness of sleep despite her best efforts. Her last conscious thought was a prayer that Rhysand was safe, that she would wake up to find that everything was all right.

And then, finally, Ramiel surrendered to the exhaustion, her body relaxing into the warmth of her mother's embrace as she drifted off to sleep.