He had to admit it: Edel cooked wonderfully. Rendel was devouring the contents of the wooden bowl, and it was the second time he’d refilled it. A very late dinner, by the way. Although there was still much to do, they had managed to tidy up the place enough to use the rooms comfortably. Everyone had bathed, changed clothes, and sat at the table in the lower hall to have dinner before going to rest. They didn’t talk much. Occasionally, someone would say, “Pass the bread,” or “Please, pass the salt.” Other than that, the only sounds were the clinking of cutlery, the clatter of glasses, and the crackling of the fireplace.

He looked up from his bowl for a moment to observe the others at the table. Edel ate slowly. He could tell she was watching him, though she averted her gaze when he looked her way. That troublesome woman wasn’t going to let him spend a moment of peace with Zari. She was like a vulture, always hovering. Besides, her cat didn’t seem to like him either—that hellish black creature with sharp claws, which had already scratched him more than once. “Mr. Clawsy.” That cursed beast. He realized he hadn’t seen it in a while. Ever since Edel had let it out of its cage, the cat had vanished somewhere in the house. Better that way. Or worse. He wasn’t sure whether it was better to have it far away or close by, just to know where it was.

Next to him was Toothpick. His father, in a manner of speaking. He was the person Rendel admired most. Maybe one day, he would be like him. Toothpick ate, serious and pensive, as usual. His ungainly manners at the table betrayed him as someone not used to the luxuries and ways of the bourgeoisie. He would have had a hard time passing as a courtier.

In contrast, Lysandra was the embodiment of elegance. Every movement, from raising the spoon to her lips to the way she held her napkin, exuded grace. She could have mingled effortlessly with royalty. Her manners were impeccable. She ate with elegance and formality, oblivious to everything—or almost everything. Rendel could’ve sworn he caught her exchanging a couple of knowing glances with Toothpick. There was something between them, subtle but well concealed. Lately, they had been very cordial with each other. “What are they plotting?” he wondered to himself.

Finally, he looked at Zari, whom Edel had seated across from him without any pretense. Comparing her to Lysandra was like comparing night and day. Her cheeks were red as tomatoes, and she ate with her elbows on the table, to the frustration of the elder woman, who kept reminding her to behave like a lady. Zari didn’t pay much attention. She looked back at him, smiling, her mouth full.

That’s what he liked most about her. Yes, he was undoubtedly in love. He had courted a few girls before. Well, not many, really. Although he was handsome, or so they said, he was quite shy and had trouble speaking to strangers—especially women. But with Zari, it was different. He felt comfortable and secure when he was by her side. Plus, she could read, was intelligent, and knew a lot about many things. And the best part was that she always had a smile on her face; it brightened his spirit, filling him with a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

They finished dinner, and the elder woman quickly began clearing the table and carrying the dishes to the kitchen in a series of brisk trips, washing, rinsing, drying, and putting them back on the shelves. It seemed like she was trying to keep herself busy, as if she didn’t want to stay in the room with the rest of them. She even sent her daughters out of the kitchen. “I’ll manage just fine, Zari. Go join the others, outside. Go on, you’re in my way,” she was heard saying.

Meanwhile, Alaric rested in a wooden rocking chair by the fireplace, sipping a glass of liquor. Lysandra was half-reclined on a sofa they had covered with old blankets. She seemed pensive and distant. He, with his restless nature, didn’t feel like sitting, so he began to rummage through the shelves of the cabinets. They were full of dusty books, white porcelain jars with inscriptions, wooden bird carvings of all kinds, and other curiosities and worldly treasures that had accumulated on the shelves over the years.

He carefully took a book. Several times, he had held one of these in his hands, not to read, since he couldn’t, but to sell it. People would pay good money for those bound stacks of paper. He blew on the leather cover, raising a small cloud of dust. It had some inscriptions and a relief of what looked like a flower. He opened it slowly, with a slight fear of breaking it. Pages and pages of letters that meant nothing to him. Although he did like the smell of paper. He continued flipping through the book and came across some beautiful ink engravings of various types of plants. He continued exploring the book, carefully studying the illustrations. He even thought he recognized some of the plants in the drawings.

“That’s Thornus’ botanical study. The third volume, the one about the vegetation south of the Tooth, if you’d like to know,” said Zari, trying to sound clever, her hands clasped behind her back. She had silently approached him from behind, spying on what he was doing.

Rendel jumped a little but smiled at the sound of her voice.

“Well, it’s very pretty. Are there more volumes?”

“Yes, about fifteen. That Thornus fellow was obsessed with plants. He’s not one of my favorite authors, to be honest. I didn’t know my mother had the whole collection here. It’s worth its weight in gold,” she replied, casually glancing at the row of volumes. Then, she whispered a secret in his ear. “Don’t tell her, but I’ve never gotten past the tenth chapter of the first volume. It’s a real snooze.”

“Really? I find it quite interesting.”

“Say that again when you come across the fifth subspecies of warty white acacia, which differs slightly from the others by the morphological arrangement and branching of the veins and the outer shape of its leaf lobes. You’ll be ready to throw yourself off a cliff, I promise,” she replied, laughing.

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“The drawings are pretty. What other books are here?”

“Well, interesting. A curious mind. Look, this one’s one of my favorites. We have another copy in Verdemar,” she said, raising an eyebrow, impressed by his curiosity. She reached for a heavy volume from a high shelf. Its worn binding showed it had been used quite a bit. “It’s the medical treatise of Jhusaria Delnall. It also has very detailed illustrations.”

Rendel didn’t like those drawings as much. Instead of pretty pictures of plants and flowers, he was greeted with skinned bodies, exposed organs, muscles, and bones laid bare with brutal realism. He shot Zari a look of amused disapproval.

“Seriously? This is what you’re into?” he teased. “Looks like a butcher’s book.”

“You fool. It’s medicine. Anatomy, actually. You need to know how a body works to fix it,” she flipped through a few pages and pointed to an illustration of a leg, with the muscles and veins drawn in surgical detail. “Look, this chapter is about leg muscles. See? Here’s where the crossbow bolt hit you, piercing these muscles. If it had gone just a bit higher and inward, it would’ve hit an artery. And you’d be dead.”

“Thanks for reassuring me,” he replied, with a touch of sarcasm. Though for a moment, he did feel a twinge in his wound. She laughed softly, amused by his reaction.

“Look, I can show you another book. That one up there is…”

“Well, I’m done,” Edel interrupted, emerging from the kitchen with a relieved smile, drying her hands with a cloth. “I think it’s time for us to rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“No, mother,” Lysandra said seriously, straightening up from her seat. “You’re not going to keep postponing this. It’s time you fulfilled your promise and told us everything you’ve been hiding.”

Edel’s smile faded into a grave, sorrowful expression. The room fell silent. The tension was palpable. Rendel glanced at Zari, who had fallen silent, her eyes wide.

“What’s Lysa talking about, Mom? What is it you have to tell us?” Zari asked, completely caught off guard.

The elder woman found herself surrounded and besieged by everyone’s gaze. For a moment, it looked like she was going to turn and flee. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Then, she slowly made her way toward the fireplace and sat in the other rocking chair, across from Toothpick.

“It’s such a long story. And I’m so tired…” Edel muttered, as if searching for one last excuse.

“We can’t go on like this, Mother. I keep thinking about what you might be hiding from us, and every thought is worse than the last,” Lysandra lamented, rising from the sofa and clasping her hands in a pleading gesture.

Edel leaned back in the rocking chair, closed her eyes, and brought her palms to her head, as if she were in pain.

“Alright,” she finally said, sighing. “It’s something I knew would come sooner or later. Either way, my dears, you deserve the truth.”

Lysandra sat back down on one end of the sofa. Zari positioned herself on the other end, with an expectant expression. She had no idea of anything of this. Rendel leaned against the armrest, near the girl. He felt her grasp his hand, tightly. She was trembling. Edel cast a weary glance at Alaric.

“Please. Tell them what the entity said to you when you met her last night.”

“What?” Lysandra blurted out, startled. “You spoke with… that thing, and didn’t tell us?”

“That’s right,” Toothpick nodded gravely. He rested his chin on his clasped hands as he stared at Lysandra. “I’ll be brief. She gave me five days to rescue Crab from the Serpent Temple. After that, they’ll take his life.”

A heavy silence fell, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire. Alaric looked back at Edel, who nodded at him.

“Also, she told me she’s not really your mother…”

What!? How!? That witch has lied to you! What nonsense is that? You shouldn’t have listened to her. That wretched woman lies. It’s a lie. How dare she? A liar. Witch. Liar. Liar. Liar.

The two sisters erupted in a torrent of incomprehensible words, leaping off the sofa, pacing around the room, throwing their hands in the air, gesturing wildly, confronting poor Toothpick, who sank deeper into the rocking chair, frightened by their reaction.

“Shhh. Please, my daughters. Calm down. What she says is true. That thing didn’t lie.”

“What…?”

Lysandra froze, standing in place. Her face showed nothing but disbelief. Zari sank to the floor and remained seated, her mouth agape, on the verge of tears.

“Please. Sit down and listen,” the elder woman pleaded again, raising a hand. “It’s true. You are not my biological daughters. I have never been able to conceive… even with all my knowledge and power. My curse, and my blessing, at the same time.”

“But then? Whose…? Who are our parents?” Zari whispered, her voice trembling.

“Does that mean we’re not the heirs? We won’t be the Guardians?” Lysandra murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from her mother.

“But are we sisters? Or not? That would explain why we look so different. I’ve always suspected…” Zari continued, speaking to herself.

“What the hell do you mean?” Lysandra responded angrily, frowning at her sister.

“Please. Listen to me. I understand you have many questions. But I will tell you everything from the beginning. I hope I can clear this up,” the elder woman pleaded, her voice breaking with pain. “Please, don’t hate me. Not yet. At least wait until I tell you my story.”

And after saying this, she locked eyes with Rendel, as if piercing him with her gaze. He didn’t know how to react. He hadn’t done anything, really.

“And you, young man,” she said with authority, though her voice quickly shifted to a much kinder tone. “Please, help my daughter up from the floor and sit beside her on the sofa. Hold her hand tightly. I think she needs it.”