Elizabeth bit back the urge to sigh as the knight in front of her finished his report.
“So in short, you failed?”
The fair-haired man narrowed his eyes. “Well I wouldn’t put it exactly like that but—”
“Count Paxlen, I don’t expect you to win against ten Otherworlders, their company and two mages, but I do prefer it if you get to the point and get me the information I need.” Elizabeth braced herself against her desk. “For example, how many casualties did you sustain?”
The count grimaced. “Seventy-nine.”
“Out of the three hundred and sixty of that battalion?” Elizabeth asked, scribbling down a note.
“Yes. We barely advanced a block into the city before we got caught in the ambush. They tore through our ranks like we weren't even there.”
Elizabeth glanced up at Paxlen. “Focusing on officers and your mage?”
Paxlen nodded once, briefly closing his eyes.
Standing up, Elizabeth scribbled another note before ripping the paper and handing it to Paxlen. “Understood. See to it that the battalion—I believe the Sangla Battalion—gets their rations and rest at the main camp. Send me the Thurrowfield Battalion to take their place on the line.”
“Yes ma’am.” Paxlen saluted robotically and left, leaving Elizabeth massaging the bridge of her nose.
“Well that went well.”
Elizabeth jumped hand shooting to her hammer, resting against her desk, before she registered the voice and sighed. “When did you learn to be sarcastic, Martin?”
The knight stepped into the tent from the rear entrance, a slight smile on his features. “I probably picked it up from my dear fiance.” His smile faded. “Is it true that they’ve concentrated all their Otherworlders here?”
“Yes. I didn’t expect that to be honest, but it explains why they have been launching so few raids against us of late.” Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the desk. “This will make our mission much harder.”
Martin pursed his lips. “Do you mean taking the city, or that top secret mission you’ve mentioned that you’re following?”
Wincing, Elizabeth glanced at her friend. “Both. I think it’s time I told you, Ginger and Ayax.”
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That night, with a silencing spell put up by Ayax, the four friends gathered under Elizabeth’s command tent for the candlelight meeting.
“So yeah, there’s the actual objective we have. Don’t get me wrong, capturing Erisdale would be nice, but killing Princess Janize and Earl Darius is critical.” Elizabeth pursed her lips and studied the expressions on her friends and her girlfriend’s faces. “So, what do you think?”
Ayax leaned back on her chair. “I understand why, but I’m not sure if we should have put Erisdale to siege then. Wouldn’t it have been easier to infiltrate the city with a small team?”
Martin sighed. “Yes, so I’m guessing politics are involved. It’s easy enough to say we killed Earl Darius and Janize during the siege, but an assassination? That looks quite bad on us.”
“That’s my suspicion as well,” said Elizabeth. She glanced at Ginger, who had a flat eyed look. “Ginger?”
The red-haired woman shrugged. “Sure. Kill the bitch. The question is still how. Unless we have something of theirs, we’re in for a grind. All our probing attacks into the city have just left us with more casualties, so unless we can blast the city apart, we’re stuck here.”
“I think we’ll get through the city with some thinking, dear, but I do have a question that has undoubtedly been brought up.” Martin crossed his arms. “What if Princess Janize is pregnant or has given birth?”
Sighing, Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think we’ll have to leave her alive and her child as well, just as prisoners.”
Ayax narrowed her eyes. “I thought our orders were to kill them?”
“We wouldn’t be following Earl Forowena and King Jerome if they were asking us to kill a pregnant woman and they’re not here. We are.” Elizabeth managed a grim smile toward her girlfriend, who let out a small sigh, but nodded.
“So we’re making the decision here…I can get behind that. And I might have an idea on how to get into the city.” Martin drummed his fingers on the table. “Is Ophelia here yet with the Erisdalian fleet?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth frowned as Martin glanced at Ginger, his smile widening. Ginger didn’t seem to get it first, but then the knight exhaled as if blowing out a candle and twirled one finger. Only then did the woman’s eyes widen and she grinned.
Ayax chuckled. “I like that smile, but what are you two thinking?”
Ginger steepled her fingers. “Well, we were thinking of sneaking in a couple of operatives into Erisdale to conduct the primary mission, which we can do under cover of a say…sea fog, with the help of Ophelia and the Erlenberg mages. It’s a common enough occurence in the capital region and while unseasonal, it certainly wouldn’t be so unusual that it would draw attention. Couple that with an actual assault on one of their city strongpoints and nobody would be the wiser.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I like that idea, but it would have to be a terribly small team. A squad of ten at minimum, meaning an Otherworlder and a mage would have to be included. They’ll also all have to be human.”
“They don’t have to be human.” Martin glanced at Ayax. “A mage and some good disguises would be able to pass off some of our Alavari members as human.”
“True, but the risks are still very high.” The troll closed her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Yes, I’d prefer if I went on this mission.”
The contemplative smile Elizabeth had froze and disappeared into wide-eyed shock. “Wait, what? You’re not going in there, Ayax.”
“I can’t imagine anybody else, Liz. Not to mention my skillset of close-quarters fighting would very useful in the city as a spy and assassin.”
“But…” Elizabeth swallowed. “Ayax, I need you.”
Reaching over, Ayax squeezed her love’s hand. “I know, Liz, but you know I’m an obvious choice for this mission.” The troll’s expression darkened. “Besides, I have a personal score to settle with Earl Darius.”
Elizabeth gently held the hand of her troll, her teeth clenching. “I know how much you want to avenge your parents sweetie, but we will have plenty of opportunities to do so.”
“Yes, but you know I’m a good fit for this mission.” Ayax bit her lip. “If you refuse, I won’t blame you.”
“But you won’t be happy.” As Ayax’s gaze dropped to the table, Elizabeth sighed. “I need some time to think about it. For the moment, what do you want Ophelia and the Erlenberg fleet to do, Martin? Ginger?”
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Morgan woke up, her eyes opening up to see the ceiling of her room.
Blinking, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and swung her legs off her bed. She had had a nightmare but after a quick cup of Hearthsange and some water, her sleep had been incredibly good. She couldn’t even remember what was the nightmare about.
Instead of afterimages of a bad dream, she just took in her room. Frances had helped move in a desk and a bookshelf by the window. A wardrobe now sat in one of the other corners of her room. There was even a personal chest.
Making her way to her desk, Morgan took in her reflection and wasn’t sure who was looking back.
Her hair was a mess. That was to be expected. As Morgan quickly grabbed her comb in a cup and started to wrangle some of the locks, she found herself frowning.
The harpy-troll looking back wasn’t smiling, but there was a upward tilt to the edges of her mouth. She looked strange, healthy, her wings ruffling with energy.
Shaking her head and wondering why she didn’t feel like her reflection, Morgan ran to the bathroom to wash up. Strangely enough, she couldn’t smell breakfast being made. Frances had usually gotten up early to make breakfast.
When Morgan did fly down to the dining room, she found it empty. The only new addition was to the nook table where a plate, and a large single mug with what looked like her uncle’s writing glazed on it sat on the table, along with a plate. The words on the mug were “To the Best Girlfriend.”
“Wait, so Frances was up after I was?” Morgan frowned and her wings flapping, flew back up to the second floor, where her uncle and Frances’s bedroom was.
Only now did Morgan notice that Frances’s room door was ajar. For a moment, Morgan hesitated.
Frances had said her room was off limits, but…this was too strange. Taking a breath, the princess peeked her head in.
What first caught her by surprise was how much stuff was in her uncle and Frances’s room. Across one wall, were two sets of mannequins dressed with the armored white mage robes that she’d seen Frances wear during her rescue. A helmet topped the mannequin and an estoc hung from a spot on the wall behind the set along with a mage’s belt.. Her uncle’s mannequin was empty, but that made sense as he’d taken his equipment for his trip.
To the wall facing the master bed was a painting of what seemed to be of a lakeshore. For a moment, Morgan wasn’t sure where this was of. As she narrowed her eyes at the painting, she suddenly realised it was of the northern riverbank of Athelda-Aoun, which meant the painting must have been fairly recent.
“No. Please.”
Morgan’s head snapped to the bed to where a form buried under a thick blanket trembled. Breath caught in her throat, Morgan crept to the bedside, making sure not to touch the two nearby dressing desks, one for her uncle and one for her mentor.
Eyes screwed shut, curled up in a fetal position, tears streamed down Frances’s cheeks. She was shaking, crying and yet somehow, her eyes remained screwed shut.
Morgan swallowed. “Frances?”
There was no response except for a whimper.
“Frances!” The harpy-troll reached out to grab her mentor and shake her awake, but stopped. How did she know this was going to work or not? What if Frances didn’t want her to do this? What if she hurt Frances?
But she’d bitten Frances before and she’d been fine. What was a shake to that?
The harpy-troll braced herself and grabbing onto Frances’s shoulder shook her so hard the woman’s head whipped back and forth. After a moment of this, Frances’s eyelids flew open, revealing a wild, wide-eyed gaze.
Before Morgan knew what was happening, she’d been flung away, her arms thrown aside. Backing off, Morgan stammered, “Frances it’s me!”
“Stop—Morgan?” Frances’s breath was harsh and ragged. Running her hands through her tussled hair she then buried her head in her hands. “Oh. I…that was a nightmare wasn’t it?”
Morgan nodded, wincing as something seemed to hurt on her forearms. “Yeah. You didn’t get up.”
“Sorry. I…I woke up in the middle of the night. I ended up—Wait, you’re hurt.”
“No, I’m fine,” Morgan clasped her hands behind her, but Frances was already getting out of bed.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Frances sighed, hands wiping away at her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. You were having a nightmare.” Massaging her arms, Morgan made a face and finally showed Frances her arms. “Fine, some healing would be nice.” Frances mumble-croaked a string of notes that grated on Morgan’s ears but her arms soon felt like they’d never been hurt. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry.” Frances slapped herself lightly on the head and sprang to her feet. “Oh! Shoot it’s school—”
Crossing her arms, Morgan sighed. “Frances, it’s the weekend. There is no school.”
“Oh.” Sitting down on the bed, Frances rubbed at her face. “Oh dear. Um, Morgan, we’ll have a lesson after breakfast. I’ll make it—”
“I can make it myself!” Cringing, her wings ruffling, Morgan cursed herself internally. She hadn’t meant that to come out so harshly.
“Of course.” Morgan blinked and glanced at Frances, who seemed to force her expression from a wince to a stoic mask. “I’ll see you in a bit, Morgan then.”
Swallowing, Morgan nodded and fled the room
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“Morgan, something’s bothering Frances.” Hattie’s grim tone whipped Morgan’s head up from the table in Hattie’s home under The Copper Bridge. The pair had been playing chess and she’d been pondering her next move for a while.
“No—fuck, yes, sorry.” Morgan’s groan was cut off when the half troll gently brushed her hand against her shoulder, sending a tingle up the younger girl’s back. Suddenly, Hattie, her eyes widening, pulled her hand back, her arms clamping against her sides.
“Oh um, sorry.”
“No, that was alright,” Morgan stammered, hoping she didn’t sound disappointed.“How did you know?”
Hattie pursed her lips. “Master Frances looked like she wasn’t getting much sleep. She usually drinks tea, not coffee. That and she said she was going to see Master Edana before we left her home.”
Morgan arched an eyebrow. “What does her having to see her mom have anything to do with that?”
“Frances usually meets with Master Edana during our lessons in her break, or calls her. She rarely disturbs Master Edana on the weekends unless Edana needs help with the terrible twins.”
“Terrible?”
Giggling, Hattie shook her head. “I exaggerate. They sometimes can be a bit adventurous but they’re cute.”
Smiling, Morgan moved her centaur rider piece across the bridge. Alavari chess was apparently quite different from the chess Frances and Elizabeth had played in the Otherworld. “They’re a…strange family.”
Hattie nodded, her gaze now falling to the table. “But very loving and willing to share it.”
Examining her friend slash crush, Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Hattie, I know it’s a bit weird between Frances and you but you’re close right?”
Hattie moved her goblin rider and steepled her fingers. “Yeah. It’s…it’s strange. It’s kinda strange for you, though, too right?”
The question made Morgan frown because Hattie was right. She and Frances were…what exactly were they? Over the past month or so, Frances had been her teacher, her caretaker, her uncle’s love but that didn’t seem right.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Hattie stammered.
Morgan blinked, and waved her hands. “No, you didn’t bother me. You’re right. It is kinda weird. I just didn’t think about it. She’s…we’ve gotten closer I think. I’m just wondering well…”
“What’s going to happen next?” Hattie asked.
Nodding, Morgan glanced at Hattie, who had crossed her arms. “Yeah. What…what’s going to happen to me next? I mean, I’m still staying with uncle right?”
“I think so.”
Hattie didn’t sound so sure, though, and Morgan couldn’t help herself from forming fists with her hands. “I mean uncle wouldn’t abandon me I think. But well, things are different now that he has Frances and she has you too.”
“Morgan, Frances cares about you and you’re her student. Just like I am.”
“I know. She told me.” Hattie blinked while Morgan felt her cheeks warm. “But I won’t be her student forever, right?”
The half-troll shook her head. “No. But I think you don’t have to worry about that. She can still be your friend and a mentor figure.”
Morgan nodded, but it was almost like she was trying to reassure herself. “Yeah. Maybe.” She glanced back at the chess board. “It’s my turn right?”
“Yeah.”
Morgan moved her piece and watched as Hattie moved hers. They spoke no more of the subject that night.
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Frances clasped her fingers around the hot mug, even as the heat stung her skin. Her eyes resolutely focused on the swirling tea within, even as she knew her mother was studying her.
She chanced a quick peek at her mother from under her bangs. Unsurprisingly, her mother was simply watching her while gently rocking the very large double crib that held Ignatius and Ember.
“Sorry mom, I don’t know how to say it.”
“Take your time my daughter. You’ll figure it out, you always do.”
“Most of the time, mom. This is a bit different.” Frances took a deep breath and lowered her voice. She didn’t want to wake the twins. “Mom, how did you know that you wanted to adopt me?”
Edana stopped rocking her children’s crib, her eyes widening as she gently let go. “Oh, um. Well, I loved you and I wanted to be your mom.” Brushing back a lock of greying hair, Edana smiled. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but do you mind if you tell me why you are asking? Is it about Hattie?”
Frances took a deep breath. “It’s about Morgan. Hattie and I…it’s still complicated.”
Edana blinked. “Morgan? It’s been a bit over a month, but you already feel that strongly for her?”
“That’s what I’m not sure about mom. My feelings for—about Morgan are just in a mess.” Frances rubbed at her eyes and bit back a yawn. “Sorry.”
Edana frowned, her gaze reproachful. “That’s not all that’s going on, my dear.”
“No. It isn’t.” Sipping her tea, Frances let the bitter, herbal taste linger on her tongue before exhaling slowly. “I’ve not been sleeping well. Ever since I started taking care of Morgan I’ve been having dreams of my birth mother. I think Morgan is somehow reminding me of her.”
“How—hm, but Morgan doesn’t seem particularly violent.”
Frances shook her head. “She isn’t, or at least not exactly. It’s just sometimes she lashes out without warning. I understand why. She’s been through a lot. It’s just that how my birth mother was like.”
Her mother nodded, but at the same time, her eyes narrowed. “So your reaction is perfectly normal then.”
Grimacing, Frances fought not to scowl. “It’s not fair to Morgan. She’s done nothing wrong. I’m just too messed up to separate her from the memories of my mom.”
“You’re doing your best, though, Frances and Morgan seems to appreciate that I think. She’s stopped fighting you now and I’ve heard she’s been behaving herself too in class.” Edana refilled Frances’s cup. “You’re under a lot of stress, Frances, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“It’s hard not to be. After more than a year and I still can’t decipher how to perform song magic, even after doing it once.”
“There’s a reason nobody has figured it out, my dear.” Edana leaned on her elbows. “About Morgan, let me answer your original question. Maybe that will help you at least in that respect.”
It took a moment for Frances to remember but as she did she sat up straighter. She’d never questioned why Edana had wanted to adopt her. She knew her mother loved her, but to hear about how she came to that conclusion…she wasn’t sure what she was going to hear.
“You know why I love you, Frances. We may not have been born family but we share a close bond and have saved each other more times than we can count.” Edana wiped her eyes, smiling brightly at her oldest daughter. “Even before I adopted you, I had swore to myself that I would protect and raise you. That wouldn’t have changed.”
Frances nodded, wiping her own eyes as she remembered the day she’d signed the papers.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her and she frowned. At the same time, Edana’s smirked just a bit.
“Mom, you sound like it wasn’t just love that made you want to adopt me.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t just love.” Edana’s smirk widened a little as Frances felt several different expressions fly across her face.
Crossing her arms, Frances swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Edana glanced at the twins, before turning back to Frances. “So, I wanted to adopt you some time after Vertingen, after you saved my life dear. I felt like I owed you a debt of gratitude far beyond what I could give as your teacher. I was afraid however that you might refuse.”
“I wouldn’t have—” Frances froze and pursed her lips. “I mean…huh. You wanted to adopt me after Vertingen. That explains some things.”
“I bet. I also suspect that right after Vertingen, you were already quite overwhelmed.” Edana reached over to squeeze her daughter’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to shock you and given your experience with your birth mother, I was afraid.”
Frances nodded slowly, letting her arms relax back onto the table. “You’re not wrong.” She glanced at the twins, who remained sound asleep, and then back at her smiling mother. “So, what made you offer? I get why it wasn’t just love then. You loved me so much, you were worried about hurting me, right?”
Nodding, Edana took a sip from her tea, gazing straight ahead, a bit of a far-off look in her eyes. “Indeed. What eventually drove my decision was a bit of selfishness, some motivational words from Igraine, and a lot of fear.”
Blinking, Frances stared at Edana as her smile faded into a pensive frown. “I’ve had several students. Godfrey amongst the best of them, but I had no children then. I wasn’t on good terms with my mother then. I owe you again for helping me to change that.” The older mage pinched the bridge of her nose. “The point is, at the time, I was resigned to the idea that when I passed, my legacy would only be carried by those not of my own family. Nobody would carry the story of Edana into the future. Plenty of people would recall the Firehand, but Edana Windwhistler?”
Frances shook her head. She knew what her mother meant. The wide world had no idea of the caring, softer side of her mentor and mother figure. They only knew her as the Firehand. Glancing up, Frances found herself fixed with her mother’s green eyes.
“But I knew Frances that you would and if I could save you, ensure you survived the war and hopefully, had children of your own, my legacy would be preserved and my life would somehow have been worth all the death it’s wrought.”
“That’s—” Frances swallowed and nodded. The topic of her mother’s guilt for what she’d done in the Lapanterian-Erisdalian war had come up before. Try as she might, Frances had never been able to dissuade her mother that it’d been a war, and that her guilt was for naught.
Nodding once, Edana smiled and her eyes drifted toward her babies. “Igraine was another factor. She told me to stop overcomplicating things and that I was blowing my worry about your reaction out of proportion. Her words gave me the courage to actually ask you.”
Frances smiled, and made a mental note to get the ranger something nice when she was back in Athelda-Aoun. “That’s very nice of her.” Thinking back to her mother’s words, Frances frowned. “Then what was the fear?”
Edana exhaled and closed her eyes. “You remember that I offered to adopt you the day you woke up from that fight at Conthwaite, the closest you’ve come to death. Well, I was afraid that if I didn’t adopt you then, if you did get sent back to the Otherworld before you killed Thorgoth, you’d only ever have memories of your birth mother, and none of a mother that loved you.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Frances clutched at her chest as a sharp cold sensation gripped her chest. “Oh.”
“It’s a thought that doesn’t bear thinking about. It’s why I didn’t think to tell you this after I adopted you.” Edana took Frances’s hand. “So there, that’s why I adopted you, Frances. Do you have any more questions?”
“No. I…you’ve given me a lot to think about, mom.” Frances took a deep breath and squeezed her mother’s hand back. “No matter what happens, though, I’m so glad that you adopted me.”
Edana laughed softly and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Frances’s forehead. “I’m glad too, dear.”
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Timur fingered the silver locket he was wearing, allowing his ink-stained fingers to glide over the delicate chain as he glared at the notebook and slammed it shut. Turning to Titania, he noted her reading, her head resting on her hand. “Anything?”
Titania suddenly straightened and shook her head. “Wha—oh, shoot, sorry bro. I fell asleep. This stuff is so boring.”
The prince blinked and slipped the locket back under his shirt. “Boring? This is all quite fascinating isn’t it? I mean, it’s all about—”
“The politics and schemes of years gone by and yadah yadah she and Archmage Star clearly had a correspondence going on, but we haven’t found anything about that damn trip that Star took.” Titania pushed the chair back with a scrape and stretched out. “Dear, did you find anything?”
Antigones, lifting some reading glasses off of his nose and placing it on the table, rubbed his eyes. “No.”
Titania’s ears twitched and she immediately went over to her husband’s side, placing her hands on his arm. “Dear?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.”
Timur swallowed. “Sir, if this is—”
“It’s just a lot of memories, your Highness. A lot of good memories to be honest.” Antigones didn’t let his hands leave his face. “That’s why they are painful.”
Pulling his gaze from the queen cradling her husband, Timur went back to the stack of journals that they’d skimmed and those that they hadn’t. He’d organized them by date and added notes to the journals to indicate what period they’d covered and what information they had on Archmage Star.
“There were a lot more personal details than I expected,” said Timur, his brow furrowed as he examined the notes.
From where she was stroking Antigones’s shoulder, Titania rolled her eyebrows “You’re reading a lady’s journals brother, what else did you expect?”
“Considering what we keep finding out and that she kept these secret, something a bit darker. Most of what we found on Zirabelle’s correspondence with Star seems to be just two very good friends.” The prince froze. “Not that I want to find something bad about Zirabelle.”
“I know you don’t, Your Highness.” Antigones took his hands from his face. “The thing is, such a friendly relationship with a human would have been heavily frowned on. There was good reason for Zirabelle to keep these documents private.”
Timur scratched his chin. “That makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is that there is very little about my father. In fact, her opinion of him seems to be fairly positive during the Strife.”
“She did think highly of Thorgoth during that time. That being said, I recall her thoughts changing however sometime after Aralik was born, around the time of Ulania’s death. It was at that time that she started to suggest that I distance myself from Thorgoth.” Antigones stroked his beard. “Yes, she was being subtle about it, but she started drawing my attention to some of Thorgoth’s more unscrupulous, controversial acts.”
“That and the journals, at least the later ones, show that Zirabelle was worried about Thorgoth.” Titania pursed her lips. “She was meeting with mages, including Ayax’s father Allaniel. It seems she was the one who provided him with clues on how to find Whitey.”
“When was that?” Timur asked, running his hands over the journals. The trio had been working from opposite ends. He’d been reading the oldest ones and Titania and Antigones the later ones.
“This one,” said Titania, pointing to a book at her end of the stack.
“Then the assassintion occurred sometime around here,” said Timur, noting the date of the last journal he’d checked, he grabbed a slim, leather-bound volume and opened it. “There, this is the year Ulania died—”
The book snapped shut, closing on Timur’s thumbs and he howled as the pages clamped together.
“Brother!” Titania raced over, trying to pry the book open with her nails. “Dear give me a hand!”
“On it!” Antigones stomped open. He grabbed the book, ready to try to wrench it open.
However, a shimmer of silvery magic flashed over the book and it opened. Antigones stumbled back, blinking as the book shone in his hands.
A quiet, contemplative voice, with a bit of a raspy timbre filled the room, and filled the orc general’s wide eyes with tear.
Dear Antigones, or dear Aralik. If either of you are holding this, then I have probably passed. I also suspect that you probably would have not touched my study or this book in years but if you have, then what Star and I have feared has probably come to pass.
“Zirabelle?” Antigones whispered.
I’m sorry my dears, but the story you are going to hear will make you question much that you think you know. It’s something I wish I told you years ago, but didn’t have the courage to do so. Please forgive me. I love you both.
The book stopped glowing, even as Antigones’s tears dropped onto the pages. Hastily shutting the volume to protect it the general wiped his eyes, and took the handkerchief Titania pressed into his worn hands.
“Thank you, dear.” Sitting down, he laid the volume on the table, as Titania took his free hand, and Timur, cradling his thumbs, walked over. “Let’s find out what my late wife has to say.”