Chapter 6 - Hidden Tears
**
Laer
July 5 III 3017
And so Festival continues! I am exhausted this night. With Festival in our midst, the whole Palace rarely catches any sleep at all! And we all have good reason not to as well! You see, it has become a rite of passage for those such as Ilaya Louvres to flirt and play each and every elf lord in the entire Palace, from mere boys to ancient lords who have seen many of Middle Earth's days. Of course, I cannot tell her how it bores me (yet, strangely, excites me!) to wander from one social clique to another, always swapping stories and gossip, exchanging critical looks as to whose dress was better than whose. And then the dancing, with all the lords that come to ask for my hand (oh the numbers). Sometimes, I wish that I could be another person, in another time; do not get me wrong, dear diary, for I do so enjoy the companionship of Festival, the warm spirits that hover and caress; I do enjoy Festival. Sometimes though, I only wish that I could enjoy Festival with those that I love, rather than those that simply look at me as a piece of material, a pretty doll in their midst. Perhaps, not even pretty after all.
Each moment is crystallized in time and kept dear in my heart. I feel a foreboding, something in the drink and the food that makes me nauseous to think about. Perhaps that is why I feel that this Festival, out of the many in my young years, has been the happiest, rivaled only by those years spent as a child next to Vella and Legolas. I try to pull Vellesta into the swirling pool of Festival alongside me, for I desperately hope for her happiness; she is my sister, despite how she is. Unfortunately, my efforts have been all but wasted on that hellish creature. *Sniff* As for my other childhood companion and friend, he is still on his Journey, no doubt having the time of his life and not missing me in the least. Well...I've got nothing to say about that. My only hope is that when he returns, he'll bring that handsome, if crude, Ranger with him! I told Ilaya about him the other night; she wants to get a good look as well!
Counting the days until my Prince returns.
Counting the minutes that Vella remains quiet.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Laer
July 10 III 3017
You shall not believe it. I do not believe it and I was right there! Ilaya does not believe it...well, she does not believe it because she cares not to. Jealous one that she is....Anyway, imagine this dear diary:, Lady Amethys actually talking to I, Avaranthe Rivermoon, and commenting on my hair! Yes, my hair! She said (quote) "It's quite fascinating, child, how you're hair shimmers like the moon." My hair, like the moon! And all the while, all her admirers and ladies gawked and stared at me, as if I really did have hair like the moon! Of course, then Ilaya cut in and began showering praises onto the old girl about how deep her eyes were and how fashionable her dress was and yadda yadda yadda....I was altogether too phased to even be bothered by it.
I was stuck on cloud number nine for the rest of the night. Not even Ilaya's glares directed in my general direction could put a damper on my mood. I spent a good hour last night studying my hair and it really didn't look too much different to me; although maybe (!!) what I see is what not others see.
I have hair like the moon. I do believe I have admirers to contend to!
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Laer
July 12 III 3017
Ilaya is jealous because Amethys sent one of her ladies over to offer me a glass of wine and then invited me to join their elite social clique during the dances. It was during this time that Amethys introduced me to Lord Breton who now carries my needles and my fans and dances with me each night. I like Breton. Some would say he is boring, but he's nice enough and he does not limp. He is the first lord to ever even offer to court me, any prospective ones in the past were quickly scared off by Vella.
It is a nice feeling, to be accepted and admired. I can see the glares of envy as I make my way through the crowd and take my seat next to Lady Olla, who is just two seats down from Lady Amethys herself. A part of me feels guilty at experiencing such pleasure when our Prince is away fighting for the kingdom; another part of me dreads the return of the terrible Vell; yet another part misses the both of them and wants the return of past days gone by.
Perhaps, I shall stop thinking altogether and let Breton do the thinking for me as well as everything else he already does. For gods' sakes, he'd even offer to dress me if it was appropriate!
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
**
Laer
July 18 III 3017
Ilaya didn't show up today and Amethys quickly filled her spot at the table, almost too quickly actually, despite my protests. Breton looked terribly handsome in a gilded velvet drape and belt; of course, he always looks two notches above amazing anyway so that's not really saying that much.
The only notable thing about this day was that Vella appeared outside her rooms for the first time in what seems like eons. She looked happy, almost content, making me worry that she is up to something or has already committed a crime. Her only comment to me was that she thought I wore too much kohl around my eyes making me look like a blue monster. When I told Amethys, the great lady laughed and said that I didn't wear enough kohl; she said it made me look older and more mature, a substitute until I grew into my years of adulthood.
Tomorrow, there is to be a cruise down the river for couples only. It is tradition every years, yet this is the first year I have been able to participate. Breton got me a beautiful gold necklace adorned with rubies he said brought out the red in my cheeks. I prefer still, though, the simple silver chain I found in Vella's room.
Perhaps this is only a dream afterall. If so, pray that I do not wake.
Until then,
Avaranthe
**
Vellesta stiffened, her back arching slightly as another loud wave of laughter and talking erupted from the ballroom below. The Palace of Mirkwood was alight with fire and gaiety as the night took hold of Festival and brought up spirits with excesses of elven wine and dancing. All in all, it made Vellesta quite sick. When silence returned once more, Vella hunkered down into her arms and rested her chin against her drawn up knees. She was seated next to her window, her eyes roaming the wide expanse of forest and river that stretched as far as the eye could see. Above, the moon shone brightly with an eminence that outdid even the sun. It was such a beautiful night, with the elven gardens alit with lanterns and candles; Vella could make out shadowy shapes of couples in the secret groves built into the twisting mazes of the trees. No doubt, love would be found this night. No doubt, love would be lost as well.
A deep and sudden sense of longing gripped the elf-maid by the heart and squeezed harshly until Vella could hardly breathe. I don't care, Vella thought, convincing herself that she really didn't need anyone else. That up here, on her own by her dark window, she could be happy as well. She did it every year, didn't she? She was happy every year, wasn't she? Of course she was.
"Oh bother." She muttered, turning away from the luminescent beauty of the trees and turning inward towards her bureau. Roaming through her various cluttered drawers and hidden spaces, she searched for something she could not name.
Vella was naturally a clutter-lover; hardly could she stand the regal elven orderliness and precision. Her room was example enough of her need for excitement and irregularity. More often than not, it was boredom that drove her to mischief; boredom that drove her mad and crazy, boredom with life and it's long road ahead. And though the elf-maid never considered her life and it's immortality, she did foresee the long years in the future; long years bearing a burden of pain, and pent-up grief. Opening another drawer, Vella stuffed her hands in without thought, going through her things with an ease and swiftness even the servants would've envied.
"Ouch!" She exclaimed suddenly, pulling back her left hand and seeing the dark line of blood emerging from the cut. Finding the perpetrator, she pulled it out to find a crumpled portrait done quickly on parchment. Immediately forgetting the paper-cut, Vella's blood froze, her pallor instantly paling. It was a portrait of her mother, the beautiful Lady Lelanna who had passed over the sea many many years before. The ache of loss in the elfgirl was as keen as it was the day she'd bade her Mother farewell. She'd been so young then, so young and stupid and careless. Not even realizing the one she considered the enemy, would be the one she'd miss most. Vella's slender, deft fingers-the fingers of an archer-traced the contours of the delicate face, the sharp high nose, the slender graceful neck. They had the same green eyes, the same midnight hair. Without realizing it, a tear fell from darkness and landed on the paper.
Vella instantly wiped it away, for fear of damaging the heart-stopping beauty of the woman in the portrait. Unbidden memories flooded her; memories of long days gone by, days of dance and song, days of joy, laughter and care. Days when the deep hard core of her was soft and malleable; not yet frozen by time and bitterness. She felt a sob choking her, taking her in it's sharp grasp and squeezing until she could barely draw her next breath.
Unstoppable, the tears rushed out. Vella's elven beauty was not marred by the tears; her eyes grew only clearer, the green ever brighter. The tears fell like crystals from her eyes, suspending in time; frozen for all to witness if only they should choose to see. What had happened? Vella wondered, how had things changed so much in such little time? Looking around her, Vella could hardly recognize where Lelanna had once lived, where her mother had once laughed and loved. Back in those days, Vella had been kind and gentle, she'd been sincere and, if boring, at least loving. Ava had been so young, she'd been a joyful child, the laughter in the skies reflected in her blue blue eyes. Father had been jovial; not the brooding, silent man he'd become. It's my fault, Vella realized. All my fault. And once more, the elven lady who denied her own worth, beat her poor heart black and blue until she cried red tears, pieces of her own heart.
When the sobs abetted, Vella felt weak and torn in two, shaken like a rag-doll between harsh emotions. She rifled for a few moments through the drawer, then fell back, her strength and will gone. Where had her life gone? She wondered, why am I so sad? Why am I so lonely? A sudden thought occurred to her, making her sift through the contents of the drawer once more.
Biting her lip, Vella stood shakily and crossed her chambers to her jewelry box, wondering if she'd misplaced the cherished item she'd been given as a remembrance. For years, decades even, she'd forgotten and laid to rest the memories that had so haunted her adolescence; memories that threatened to overwhelm her young adulthood. Not finding it in her jewelry box either, Vella glanced around the room, trying to think up any possible place it could be. A thousand and one emotions plummeted her from all sides: fear, dread, longing, pain, loss. Turning, she decided it must be in her bureau and proceeded to empty each and ever drawer; dumping the contents of each and every one of the chests on the floor, throwing papers into the air, quills and other such trinkets against the wall. Below, the dancing elves drunk on Festival, paused only for a second to wonder at the wash of pain and anguish emanating from above.
"Oh god, oh dear lord.." Vella whispered hoarsely, dread flowing through her veins like thick syrupy poison. It was the only thing of her Mother's that she had, the only thing left to hold on to; for a sudden sick moment, Vella wondered if she was hallucinating, if Lady Lelanna really didn't exist and she had made it all up in her head.
Not finding it anywhere, Vella rushed into Ava's apartments, rushing through each and ever drawer; not caring of the mess she left in her wake. She was practically in tears all over again by the time she came upon the pearl bracelets and the sapphire earrings. At first, she hardly paused. Then, after a moment's thought, she realized why the jewels were so familiar: they were hers. They were jewels, long-forgotten, that had adorned the bottom of her jewelry case. Gripping the bracelet, Vella felt a hope rise in her heart; perhaps she had not lost it after all.
With a motion so quick even a Silvan ranger would not have been able to catch her, Vella disappeared out the doorway and down the stairs towards the veranda and ballroom, where elves drank, laughed and sang. She pounded down the corridors, hardly giving a care to her looks, and when she finally came upon the Great ballroom, filled with dancing couples, lords and ladies dressed in their finest, the fury in her was as great as the pain that gripped her.
She spied Avaranthe amidst a group of tittering ladies, and to her dismay, found Lady Amethys at the head. Vella knew Amethys from childhood. Back when Vellesta was still accepted into elven society, they'd always been stuck in the same studies and at the same tables and social cliques. They'd even been friends for a little while, until Vella had grown tired of gossiping and giggling and had resorted to trickery and mischief instead. Amethys had disowned the younger girl completely, going even so far as to spread hideous rumors of witchery and changelings. Vella had never forgive the elven lady for her cruel rumors, but had never quite been able to get back at her either. Amethys always surrounded herself with admirers and gaggling swans of ladies; each and everyone of them eager to bask in her glory and steal a little part of her for themselves.
And now, to see Ava sucked into Amethys' social group, it was like seeing history repeat itself all over again. A part of Vella even went so far as to argue that it was the final blow in Amethys' little punishment for Vella; an overt example of her inability to do anything to touch the great and beautiful Lady Amethys.
Vella fumed, pausing in the doorway to consider her game plan. She rarely let her anger interfere with her motions, knowing that such emotions would cloud her mind and more often than not, turn things against her rather than for her. She'd learned, centuries ago, to keep her feelings and emotions in check. With a cool, glazed expression upon her face, she strolled amidst the bright lanterns of Festival with an air of one who belonged; of one above.
Strolling up to Ava, she tapped her younger sister lightly on the shoulder. With a surprised exclamation, Ava turned, her laughter quickly turning to a frown.
"Vellesta." Ava said, her heart sinking immediately. The younger elf could feel the eyes of Lady Amethys burning her back; this could either ruin her or raise her higher. She had bets on the ruinage. With a delicate arch of her eyebrows-a habit obtained from Amethys herself-Ava turned back to Lord Breton and the rest of the elves.
"This is...Vellesta Rivermoon, my sister." She said, introducing the misshapen dark-haired elf. Vella was surely ungroomed; her dark hair in long strands trailing down her back, her dress crumpled and in disarray. Even her eyes seemed red as if (by gods!) she had been crying, though Ava doubted this immensely. She'd never seen Vella cry, not even once. Not since the day Mother had left them.
"Vellesta." Amethys said coolly, stepping forward. The omission of the "lady" preceding the name indicated Vella's status in the eyes of speaker. Vella cast the other elf a dark look, but concentrated rather, on Ava.
"Where is it, Ava." She said coldly. "Where did you put it."
"Put what?" Ava asked, her aquamarine eyes wide. There's another effect she's learned from Lady Priss, Vella thought caustically.
"You know what." Vella snapped, feeling her cool facade wearing on her nerves, the anger fraying her control and threatening to snap. "Give it back to me now, Avaranthe."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ava retorted, slightly flushed. Behind her, she could feel the eyes of all resting upon their little scene. "Please Vell." She hissed. "Not now!"
"Don't 'Not Now' me!" Vella said, seeing dark shades of red before her eyes. "Do not feign ignorance, dear sister."
"The children's rooms are above." Amethys cut in smoothly, seeing the calm and serenity of her social clique wearing away as each minute clicked by. "Perhaps, Vellesta, you should take your quarrels above."
"You just shut up." Vella almost shouted, but retained a tight, if loosening, grip on her temper. "Just mind your own business, Amethys. This does not concern you; or perhaps that nose of your's itches to grow only bigger." Vella paused, her eyes growing large. "Ooops! That warning came too late."
Amethys glared, turning to one of her admirers to be assured that her nose was absolutely perfect and to be reminded, once more, that she was the prettiest elf in all of Mirkwood.
"My my, Vellesta, aren't we the hypocrite." Amethys said, her words dripping with sarcasm. She looekd pointedly at Vella's undone hair and crumpled dress. "Of course, without proper upbringing, one should expect such turnout."
Vella flushed, despite her cold, hard shield. I'm happy with who I am, she reminded herself. I don't need any of them. She turned away from Amethys, her eyes hard and sparking with enough fire to burn the entire forest if need be.
"Just give me the goddamn necklace, Ava. It was not yours to take in the first place."
"What necklace?!" Ava hissed. She reached up, feeling the gold ruby necklace, the horribly ugly thing, that Breton had made her wear. Suddenly, she remembered the jewels she'd taken from Vellesta. "Oh!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Oh..."
"Yes. Yes, Ava, those were mine." Her voice was deadly, low and soft; the worst sign. "Now where is the silver one, the one with the white-gold pendant in the shape of a swan. Where is it, Ava?!" She demanded, stepping slightly forward with a menacing grimace to her lips.
"I..uh..I..I don't know!" Ava exclaimed, embarrassment rushing to her cheeks. "The others are in my room." She said, hoping to get Vella to leave, then deal with her later.
"No! I want the silver one!"
"I-"
"Ladies! Err-I mean.." Amethys glanced pointedly at Vella, then turned to Ava. "Come, child, let us go out to the gardens." She'd decided she'd had had enough of this charade.
Ava looked helplessly to her older sister, then was steered away by Breton and Amethys flanking on either side. Vella shook with helpless anger, wondering if she was crazy to even consider what she was about to do. She was absolutely certain Ava had done something, she could see it written plain as day across her sister's fair elven brow.
Stopping a server in mid step, she whisked away a goblet of elven wine and downed it in one swallow. The immediate warm rush assailed her from all sides, making her sway involuntarily. Shaking her head, she replaced the empty goblet for another, full one. Then, with a dark expression across her countenance, Vella marched up to the phony do-gooder, whirled her around, and poured the entire contents of the goblet down her silk-laid, embroidered dress.
Amethys' great violet eyes widened with shock, horror and, to Vella's glee, utter humiliation. Suddenly, the entire ballroom went dead silent, everyone turned and watching the spectacle before them: the lady Amethys facing the "hell-bringer", a full cup of elven red wine down the front of her dress.
For full long seconds, Amethys couldn't find a single word to say. She sputtered like a drowned fish; and to everyone's amusement, the elf's radiant beauty dimmed to a dull glow while Vella stood before her and shone like the sun.
"You...you...you..." Amethys struggled to find an appropriate lady-like word but couldn't seem to find one that incorporated the whole meaning. "You fiend!" She gasped, "You horrible horrible..!"
There was a tittering going through the crowds as all eyes watched the beleaguered elf struggling to retain some semblance of her dignity and not succeeding in the least. It was not everyday that the great lady Amethys was humiliated and brought down to Middle-earth from her perch high above. Several other ladies even went so far as to smile, feeling a certain satisfaction at seeing Amethys taking a dose of her own medicine. Feeling utter humiliation threatening to drown her, Amethys-so unused to being ridiculed-cast a furious glance at the whole congregation, finally settling her fiery blaze of fury on Vella, who was watching with a slightly amused, slightly cynical expression on her face.
With a suppressed scream of anger and frustration that came out as a squeal, Amethys turned on her heel and marched away. After a moment, she turned and glared pointedly at her followers, who quickly jumped up to follow at their mistress' heel. A bunch of dogs, Vella thought disgustedly, not a single individual thought in the lot of them. Amethys, for good measure, cast a scathing glance at Ava as well, signifying the end of the elf-maid's respectability.
After Amethys' departure, resuming the dancing seemed oddly inadequate. Lords chatted quietly amongst themselves, their eyes never leaving the sisters who stood stranded in their midst. The ladies edged away, for fear that the dreaded Vellesta would turn on them. After what seemed like hours of awkward silence, Vella grasped hold of her younger sibling and with a yank, half-dragged half-pulled Ava up to her chambers where, at least, they could fight in the privacy of their own rooms.
Upon reaching the cluttered mess of Vella's chambers, Ava tore herself away from the other with a passion and anger unmatched. The look in her eyes was wild, the great aquamarine depths dark with fury.
"Ava.." Vella said, taking a cool step towards her sister.
"Stay away from me!" Ava screamed, edging towards the door. "Just stay the hell away from me, Vellesta."
Angered and (she admitted to herself) somewhat hurt, Vella recoiled slightly. With a wounded patronizing frown on her face she looked at Ava with what she hoped was a sad hurt expression.
"I just wanted the necklace, Avie."
"You did not have to do that!" Ava spat, angrier than Vella had ever seen her before. Ava's entire body was rigid, her jaws clenched so tightly that she seemed ready to burst at any moment. She stood stock still, her eyes closed as her breath came in ragged gasps. Running through her mind was the utter humiliation she'd felt when Vella had appeared, the humiliation and anger. What right did Vella have in ruining her night? In ruining everything that she'd built up during Festival? She'd actually been respected, she'd actually been accepted and revered; a bile taste threatened to gag her and Ava let out great breaths to keep her temper in check. A lady never explodes, she reminded herself, only to be washed with another wave of sickness.
"You had no right." Ava said softly, her eyes opening slightly to expose glittering daggers of anger and hate. Yes, hate. That was exactly what she was feeling; hate like she'd never felt it before. Perhaps, it was due to the fact that she'd never before lost so much, lost so much in such a short time. "You had no right to do that to me!" Her voice rose to a scream.
"What!" Vella said, her own temper rising. "What?! Did I embarrass you, Ava? Should I have gotten down on my knees and kissed Amethys' goddamn shoes like the rest of you? Or perhaps, I should've licked them clean as well!" Vella glared at her younger sister, remembering that Ava had taken her things without asking. "And you stole my jewels! You had no right to do that!"
"Ugh!!" Ava seethed in frustration, silently crying tears at her loss. She knew that she'd never again be welcomed in Amethys' circle, no longer be attending the late night dancing and laughter, the moonlit cruises down the river. No more...The words were so final, they made her quake with loneliness. Tears, unbidden, trailed down her cheeks, yet all she felt was a terrible anger. "Why can't you be normal? Why can't you be normal!!!" She shouted.
Vella glared, her own fury silencing her voice.
"Just give me back the necklace."
"What stupid necklace!" Ava said, letting out an exasperated groan. Vella didn't seem to be letting up about the stupid necklace; what did she want it for anyway? It wasn't as if Vella was about to go down and partake in festival.
"It's not stupid!" Vella snapped. "Now give it back to me, baby Avie."
"I hate you!" Ava seethed, her own fury boiling.
"Well, I hate you too!" Vella carped, her voice imitating a baby whine. Ava wanted to kill her; wanted to be rid of her forever. Perhaps then, she'd live a normal life, a good life.
"Never, ever, ever come near me again." She said, her voice low and dangerous. "Just stay away from me." With that, she turned and, with a great sob, slammed her door shut.
Vella stood outside, a part of her anger, another part sad, and yet another part somewhat amused, and pounded on the closed door.
"Give me the necklace!" She shouted so loud she was sure even the elves remaining below could hear her. "Ava!!!!" She shouted, pounding and pounding until her hands bled for sure and she could feel her strength ebbing.
"Give me the-!"
The door swung open, revealing a disheveled Ava with knives for eyes and hate emanating in waves.
"I want what's mine." Vella said coldly. With a slam of the door, Ava disappeared once more, only to appear once again with the white-gold pendant hanging on the silver chain dangling in her hands.
"This?" She spoke with a voice totally devoid of emotion; only cold, hard anger in her eyes.
"Give it to me." Vella lunged for it, only to be one step behind the anger that made Avaranthe quick and crazy.
"You want it, Vellesta? Huh?" Ava wondered if she was crazy; it was as if the real Avaranthe was floating somewhere in space, a place devoid of care and emotion and she watched as her earthly body sneered and dangled the pendant over the great precipice out the window. " You want it, Vella?" The mock-Ava said coldly, "See how it feels to want, sister."
Then, ignoring the strangled cry from Vella, Ava throw open her window and tossed the silver chain as far as she could deep into the starry night. Vella arrived, two seconds too late, her arms grabbing at empty air as her keen elven sight spied the silver chain disappearing into the depths of the forest surrounding the palace.
At first, she could only stare in horror as the only thing she had left of her mother sailed out of her grasp from the hands of her own sister. Then, she began to shake with an uncontrollable anger, an anger forged of pain and denial; of grief and loneliness.
With a scream, Vella turned and jumped on the younger elf, who obviously hadn't been expecting the sudden furious attack. Ava kicked and scratched, covering her face from the blows that Vella delivered. Vella was half-mad, all rationale gone as she tried to strangle the one who'd torn her heart out and sent it sailing into the great dark depths.
Their screaming and shouting brought the courtiers and lords to their door, wondering who was being tortured in the midst of Festival. Lord Delanthor arrived at the scene and gasped with horror at seeing his two precious daughter (precious, hah!) trying to murder each other. He rushed forward and, dodging Ava's flailing legs, pulled Vella off her sister.
Through her grief-clouded mind, she could feel somebody pulling her away from her object of hate. She struggled for a few moments, then collapsed into great sobs of pain and exhaustion. Delanthor held his eldest daughter as he once had, hugging her to him as she cried and cried, tears unshed over centuries poured out from the reopened wound.
"I hate you...I hate you..I hate you.." She sobbed, over and over as Ava sat up, dazedly wondering what had happened and who all these elves were that surrounded them.
"Shhh. Shhh, it's okay." Delanthor stroked his daughter's dark hair, marveling at how fine it was, and lead her back to her chambers; he dismissed all the on-lookers with a sharp glance. In her distraught state, Vella compliantly fell into bed without complaint and lay crying softly as her father gathered up the things that littered the room. The right-hand of the king paused as he saw the portrait of his beloved wife laying in disarray upon the floor. With a shake of his head, Delanthor shut the picture into one of the bureaus, closing the shelf tightly and turned back to his daughter.
He knew that a reprimand was in call, that Vella shouldn't have acted as she had, towards the Lady Amethys (he'd already heard reports) as well as towards her sister. And yet, seeing her there, laying so still as to be dead, shedding tears she had not cried for so many centuries, he could do nothing but realize his love for her.
"Goodnight, Vella." He said softly, tucking the covers in around her and blowing out the candles. He'd question her tomorrow; and be kind, he reminded himself. As he closed the door, he heard a small voice call out in the darkness.
"Daddy?" It was so small, so frail, that Delanthor was reminded of the his little girl dancing in the fields, his firstborn child, the tiny hands in his own.
"Yes, Vell?"
"..."
Suddenly, the father understood. He understood that for this moment, words were just not enough; words just simply did not comprehend.
Delanthor smiled.
"Goodnight, Vellesta."
He closed the door, then leaned against it and closed his eyes. The hurt ran deep, the grief even deeper. Perhaps what people saw of Vellesta Rivermoon was not all there was; perhaps all even he saw, was not everything.
In the darkened bedroom, Vella could not find the heart to forgive a sister, and beside her, in another chamber right next door, the sister could not find the pain to understand.
