I caught the past tense. “Stood?”
Rilen pursed his lips, and great creases of sorrow lined his face. “It burned to the ground the day before the Spine rose.” He stood and walked out of the room, seemingly unable to be there anymore.
Watching him walk away, I turned to his twin, whose face echoed the same pain.
“His wife died in the fire.”
Emotions, ideas, and revelations all slammed into me at once. They were so heavy and hit so hard, I had to brace my hands on the floor.
“His…wife…”
Roran tucked the small crystal back in the box and shut the lid. The whisper stopped immediately.
“His wife.”
I didn’t know what to think.
How old were these men? How much more didn’t I know of them?
Rilen had been married?
Placing the box in my hand, Roran curled my fingers around it. “You wanted us to stop being duplicitous and be honest with you. The grove of hushwillow was burned to the ground by the Three—a set of legendary seers who disappeared when the Spine rose.
“That box was probably one of the last ones made with the wood, specifically to hold that shell. I don’t know who it belonged to originally, but it was not meant for your mother. It is merely a sentimental heirloom. That your parents drowned in the sea was just an unfortunate accident.” He put a hand on my arm. “Kimber, I’m sorry.”
I put my hands on my temples. “No! Gods and demons, there’s so much there. Where the hell do I even start to ask questions?”
Roran took the box back and put it in my bag. He offered a hand and helped me stand. “My brother was married. Just a few weeks before the Spine. His wife, Amina, was one of the druids who knew how to make those boxes. She was in the woods, looking for fallen trees and trees that could be safely harvested. She died in the fire that morning, and Rilen was… crushed. Destroyed. He loved her so much.”
“I thought you and Dorian…”
“We didn’t know Dorian well until after the Spine rose. We were young when it did, just about a century old.”
I covered my face with my hands. “Dorian isn’t the only ancient bastard around here.”
Roran laughed. “No, but he’s much more a bastard than we are.”
I swallowed. “Did they have children?”
Roran shook his head. “No. There was no time. They weren’t married but a few weeks. And you know how notoriously difficult it is for druids to get pregnant.”
Nodding, I put the box back in the closet and closed the door. “I do. Will your brother be all right?”
“He will. He’d probably do better if we don’t leave him alone too long.” Roran took my hand, and we walked out of the bedroom, heading to the kitchen.
Rilen sat at the table, the chair merely turned out, staring straight ahead. I walked over and sat on his lap.
His arm went around me instantly. I didn’t say anything. He blinked a few times and looked at me, his fingers tracing my cheek.
“Amina was beautiful, like you. She was goodness. We’d known each other for only a few months when she agreed to marry me, mate me. We were happy. It was a happy time.”
“So we thought,” Roran added, pulling out another chair.
Rilen nodded. “So we thought. She was one of the few the magic allowed into the woods. The Three came galloping by, cackling, and the trees were instantly consumed by a conflagration. It burned so hotly, and the flames reached so high…”
“They were chased away by the vampire guards,” Roran took up the story. “We weren’t able to find her remains and give her a stone. The vampires who guarded the woods swore they would find her and give her a stone to remember her and the four others lost to the flames.”
“We barely made it back to West S’Kir before the Spine rose,” Rilen said. “So not only had I lost my wife, but we lost the hushwillow woods and all of our friends on the other side.”
“And my brother could not visit his wife’s stone.” Roran put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I lost my brother to grief for many years.”
I looked at Rilen. “You hid?”
Roran leaned in. “Not only did he hide…”—he dropped his voice—“…he grew a beard.”
I could not imagine Rilen Wolf with a beard. I wrinkled my nose, and he shook his head lightly.
“You had to bring up the beard.”
“It wasn’t just a beard, brother. It was an epic feat of facial hair. How long was it when I found you? Waist?”
Rilen groaned and closed his eyes. “Knees. And the first thing you did was to grab your sword and hack it off to my neck. I thought you were trying to kill me.”
“But the thing about that beard was, it was clean,” Roran continued. “Like the rest of him was a bit scrubby, but that beard was long and clean.”
“Even a hermit has standards. Just because I was hiding from society didn’t mean I had to stink. Or fester.”
“But, Rilen, a beard?” I cocked my head at him.
“Are you upset with us?” Rilen was so serious at that moment.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Why?”
“Because you grew a beard!”
Roran guffawed and stood. Rilen kissed my nose. “Okay, fair enough.”
“Are you upset?” I asked.
“Why would I be?”
“Because we came all the way out to the Middling Hills, and I’m just still a misfit druid.”
Roran turned back. “We’ll forgive you if you take us up to the Rest and show us.”
I didn’t really want to go back up there, but I knew how closely my parents had guarded it. Not many people were allowed inside.
I could have been the Keeper of the Rest, but being around all those creepy, sleeping druids in the cave was not something I wanted. I didn’t want to have to dust off inert bodies. Or shoo bats away when they took up residence in the cave.
Never at any point had I shown enough magic to enchant the entrance once someone came or went. I didn’t have enough ability to change the gate subtly to keep those who had passed out from getting back in.
But I did have the master key to the door no one knew about.
I nodded. “Come on. I’ll show you. I should have been coming here to check once a year anyway. I’ll need to find a new keeper if it’s a mess in there.”
The door was nowhere near the entrance that most people saw. Years before, my father had built a shed over the doorway that wasn’t enchanted. Not only was the door locked, but the shed was locked, as well. Drawing out the keys, I let us in with Roran supplying the light as we went.
The passageway into the cavern was long and boring from this way, but it was easier than trying to figure out the current magic at the door.
Leading the way into the dark, I was glad to see the magic created in the cavern worked as we walked in. It triggered the enchanted torches and lit the cave up.
“Holy Gods,” Roran whispered.
“I hate this place,” I said.
Rilen walked forward, and his eyes followed the walls around and up and around again, all the way behind us. “I didn’t realize—”
“It’s massive.” I pointed to the stairs. “Go up, and you’ll see how big it is and why it needs a caretaker.”