Forever Green

~ 41 ~ Ghosts of the Past

Lenesa opened her eyes to find herself lying on an old scratchy sofa, in a room with plain plaster walls and dark ceiling beams. To take the pressure off her injured shoulder, she had been placed on her side, facing a wall with two individual portraits of a boy and a girl staring back at her. Immediately, Lenesa sat up with a gasp, and the familiar inked eyes of the children glared at her in accusation.

Your fault, your fault.

She hadn't seen Ralios in years, and her memories of him had grown fuzzy. With a cautious glance around the sitting room to confirm that she was the only one there, Lenesa slowly stood up and crept across the creaking floorboards for a closer inspection.

Ralios was younger than she remembered him in this portrait. A pointed chin and a crop of short dark hair shone from behind a smooth pane of framed glass, and despite the protesting twinge of her shoulder, Lenesa brought her hand up, fingers hovering just above the image but not brave enough to touch. Light from the flames of a flickering fireplace at the left side of the room reflected on the glass and gave the impression that there was still a glimmer of life in the boy's eyes.

I miss you, she thought. The boy stared back impassively, not a hint of sadness or joy in his features. It was unlike him. Ralios had always been full of impulsivity and gleeful mischief, just like his sister.

Lenesa dragged her eyes to the next image, dreading what she would see. Audeste had been innocent then, and not filled with the hate and grief that plagued her now. Her large clear eyes were framed by thick lashes, and her hair was perfectly arranged around her shoulders. The simple black and white sketches concealed the telltale colors of the bluish hair and mauve irises to any visitors of the house who were unaware of the family's heritage.

Kivirra had been right. Lenesa did not like that she had been brought here. No—it went beyond dislike. This was torture. She had to get out.

She spun towards the doorway, only to find a middle-aged woman in a simple green dress standing in the way and bearing a tray of food and tea.

"You're awake," the woman said. "Thank goodness. We were so worried."

Lenesa swallowed the lump in her throat and looked beyond the woman to the silent, older figure that had appeared in the hallway behind her. Kivirra had changed into a dark brown robe, and a large red goblin crouched at knee-level beside her.

"We shouldn't have come here," Lenesa said as a way of apology, looking down at the paneled wooden floor, then the sofa against the wall—anything that would allow her to avoid the gazes of the two women before her. "We should leave."

"Nonsense." The woman stepped forward and set the tray down on a side table before placing her newly-freed hands on her hips. "You're exhausted and there's a bunch of revelers roaming the streets due to the festival. You'll have to stay at least the night."

"But Shwei—"

"My Heíleòn is with him," Kivirra interrupted, moving into the room to take up residence near the fireplace mantle. "They'll be fine."

Lenesa turned to her. "Why did you bring me here?" she snapped. "You have no right. After what happened—"

"We don't blame you, Lenesa."

This time, it was a man who spoke, and Lenesa jumped at the unexpected addition of a tall, thin man with a gray beard and rough brown jacket at the entryway of the sitting room. At his side was a young boy of about twelve gazing shyly up at the adults around him and at Kivirra's cloak-goblin come to life. Lenesa's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the boy.