“What a silly request to ask of a new grandmother,” Addie said, grinning proudly as she got to her feet and shooed them toward the door. “You have had no time alone to talk. Go, I will send for you if necessary.”
Zia thanked her with an exuberant hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I won’t be long.”
“Take as long as you want,” Addie assured her.
Zia eagerly ushered her grandmother into her bedchamber and fixed cups of their favorite brew, a mixture of herbs that soothed and relaxed. They settled in chairs she arranged in front of the hearth, the heat of the flames toasting their feet stretched out in front of them.
“I have missed you so much, Grandmother,” Zia said.
“And I you, my child, but there is an important reason I wished for us to talk…there is a tale I wish to tell you.”
Zia settled comfortably in her chair, tucking her warmed feet beneath her, ready to listen as she had when she was young. Her grandmother’s tales never ceased to fascinate her. “I am listening.”
“Many years ago in our village there was a young beautiful girl schooled in the Old Ways of the healers. She was an exceptional healer, always had a kind word for everyone and always generous with her time to those who required her talent. She traveled when necessary to different villages, just as you do. During her travels, she met and fell in love with a young man, and he with her, but there was a problem. The young man came from a noble lineage that expected obedience from their son, which included an arranged marriage. The couple dreamed of a life together, marriage and family, and when the young man’s father denied him his dreams, he and the young woman wed in an old ceremony forgotten by many and acknowledged by few.
“Unfortunately, the young man’s family refused to recognize the ceremony as valid and forcibly took him from his bride. They sent him away, and try as she might, his young wife could not find him. She was brokenhearted and missed him more each day. She soon realized that she was with child, but her heart refused to heal, and hope died slowly with each passing day, so that when she delivered a daughter, she smiled and took her last breath.”
Zia had tears in her eyes. “You speak of my mother.”
Bethane nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that my father was forced to leave my mother?” Zia asked, sniffing back her tears. “I would have looked for him.”
“That was exactly why I didn’t tell you. You would have insisted on searching for him, and that would not have been good for you or for him.”
“If he loved my mother, surely my father would have been overjoyed to learn that she had given him a child,” Zia said, fighting back the tears that refused to remain locked away.
“I have no doubt he would have, for he loved your mother very much.”
“She certainly must have loved him, to die of a broken heart.” A tear slipped free and ran down her cheek.
Bethane reached out and took her hand. “Don’t think for one moment that your mother didn’t want or love you. She knew she carried a daughter and spoke of you often to me. It was just that she lost her passion for life when she lost your father.”
Zia nodded, slowly wiping away her tears. “I never truly would have understood that if I had not fallen so deeply in love with Artair. I don’t shed tears for myself, but rather for my mother and the love that was stolen from her—not only my father’s love, but mine.”
“You are much like your mother, and she would have been proud of you.”
“That means a lot to me,” Zia said, her eyes drying. “I’m curious, though. What has changed that led you to tell me all this now?”
Bethane gripped both her hands tightly. “The Bishop Aleatus, the man sent to judge and condemn you, is your father.”
Zia shook her head slowly. “The bishop? My father?”
Bethane nodded.
“I cannot believe…” Zia continued shaking her head, astonished by what she had heard. The man who would decide her fate was the man who had given her life.
“I know this is hard for you to believe.”
“Are you sure?” Zia asked, thinking it must be a mistake.
“Yes, I am certain. I learned several years ago that he had become a bishop.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” she asked, not angry with her grandmother, but rather, disappointed.
“What good would it have done? Even now you must be very careful what you do with this knowledge, for it can be more dangerous than claims of you being a witch.”
“Do you think if he knew who I was, he would want to do me harm?”
Bethane pressed a gentle hand to her granddaughter’s face. “I believe he would love you immediately, for you look exactly like your mother.”