"I wholeheartedly agree, Caitlin. It's just a shame that it's under these circumstances." She turned and put her arm around Alexandria's waist. "Can I steal her away from you for a moment?" she asked Violet, who nodded.
The white wolf was never far from Alexandria's side.
"Caitlin, this is my niece, Alexandria Harvey-Santorini, the owner of Witchwood Estate, and Felicity's daughter."
Caitlin bowed. "It is an honour to meet you, Alexandria. We have all waited patiently for your return to Witchwood."
"The honour is all mine," Alexandria said, surprised by the woman's formal greeting. She returned the bow, just in case it was Rivenfell tradition, which, of course, had Mindy and Caitlin both smiling. Over Caitlin's shoulder, Alexandria noticed a lone Rivenfell witch standing silently by Matilda's altar. "Will you excuse me ... there is someone I must speak to quite urgently."
"Of course, my dear," Caitlin said, bowing again. Alexandria did a quick curtsy, then shot off towards the gazebo, nearly tripping over a dwarf, who was leaning up against his whiskey barrel and snoring like a buzz saw, an empty glass still clutched in his fist.
The white wolf sat down beside the gazebo, watching every move that Alexandria made, listening to every word she spoke.
The elves began to dance.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Alexandria asked the woman who appeared to be the only person not keeping up with the obligatory traditions of the Rivenfell Clan. "You're not celebrating?"
"Forgive me," the woman said, suddenly aware of who was speaking to her. "But as a mother, it is difficult to celebrate the passing of one so young."
"As a mother?" Alexandria asked, suddenly aware of the same fair hair, the same brown eyes, and the same high cheekbones as the girl lying on the altar. "Matilda is your daughter? But you don't look old enough to be her mother."
"Matilda is my daughter," the woman said, her face grief stricken. "My name is Diana. I died during childbirth when I was twenty years old."
"Wait. What are you saying? You're dead?"
"Of course. We are all dead," she said, motioning with her hand towards the other Rivenfell women, who had fallen silent and turned to look at Alexandria. "You didn't know?" Diana asked, surprised by the look on Alexandria's face.
Alexandria shook her head. "No, I didn't know."
If she was going to be completely honest with herself, however, she'd known all along that they were dead. They were all impossibly beautiful; their skin glowed like spun silk, and their lips were the colour of rose petals. Their voices were the sweetest she had ever heard, musical, angelic. Their hair was as smooth and shiny as white satin sheets. Their eyes were all big, brown, and framed with incredibly long lashes. They hovered rather than walked, and they had fallen from the sky like snowflakes. Of course they were dead.
The Rivenfell women turned away, returning to their various conversations.
"You're a ghost," Alexandria said.
"Spirit," Diana said. "And I am here to take my little girl home." Her fingers brushed over Matilda's cold cheek. "Wake up, my child. It is time to go home."
Suddenly, all of the Rivenfell witches gathered around the gazebo, and Alexandria felt a distinct chill in the air. The Rivenfell women began to chant, summoning the spirit of Matilda. The girl on the altar shook, then jerked. The sounds of the forest for miles around fell silent, as though all living creatures were holding their breath in anticipation.
Matilda's body shook again, as though invisible hands were trying to shake her sleeping body awake.
The chanting grew louder, then suddenly stopped, and Alexandria found herself holding her own breath.
Diana looked at Alexandria with a pleading look on her face. "She is waiting for you to let her go. All the time you hang onto the notion that you can still save her, she's trapped in this mortal plane, neither dead nor alive."
Tears ran down Alexandria's cheek. It was true; in her heart, she had not let Matilda go. She wanted the girl to live, fall in love, have children, and grow old. That was what was supposed to happen.
Diana brushed the tears from Alexandria's cheeks with her cold fingers. "You have to understand, Alexandria. This is not the end for Matilda. It is a whole new beginning. You have to trust me on that. Please, let my daughter go."
Alexandria nodded, then turned to face the girl on the altar. "I'm letting you go, Matilda," she said in a small whisper. Nothing happened.
"She can't hear you," Diana said. "Please try again. As soon as the clock strikes three o'clock, she'll be trapped in the in-between, reliving her death over and over again, unable to move on."