Finale (Caraval 3)

Her mother returned the embrace, but only for a moment. Then she was sagging against the quilted headboard, breathing raggedly as her eyelids began to droop.

“I’m sorry.” Tella pulled back right away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me with a hug. I’m just—” Her brow wrinkled beneath stray strands of dark mahogany hair, as if she were searching for a runaway thought. “I think I just need to eat, my little love. Can you fetch me some food?”

“I’ll ring for one of the maids.”

“I—I—think—” Paloma’s eyes fluttered all the way shut.

“Mother!”

“I’m fine.” Her eyes cracked open again. “I just feel so weak and hungry.”

“I’ll be right back with something to eat,” Tella promised.

She hated to leave her mother, but she didn’t want to make her wait for a maid to plod up and down the stairs. It was fortunate she didn’t wait, because as Tella raced to the kitchen, there didn’t appear to be any maids at all. They must have all taken off for the Sun Festival.

The cooking galley was abandoned. No one stopped Tella as she grabbed a tray and began piling food on top of it. She pilfered the best-looking fruits from a mound of plump peaches and sun-bright apricots. Then she took a hunk of hard cheese and half a loaf of sage bread. She munched on the food as she grabbed it, her appetite returning with excitement. Her mother was finally awake, and she was going to be fine as soon as she ate.

Tella thought about brewing some tea, but she didn’t want to wait for the water to boil. She searched for a bottle of wine instead. They never served alcohol here, but she was certain they had some. Tella located a bottle of burgundy in a cupboard and then she grabbed a couple of chocolate hand-pies for dessert.

She was proud of her feast as she carefully marched it up the steps.

She remembered closing the door behind her, but it seemed she’d left it cracked. Tella pushed it the rest of the way open with her elbow, losing a runaway peach in the process. It hit the ground with a dull thud as Tella stepped inside.

The room was colder than it had been when she left, and quiet. Too quiet. The only sound came from a fly buzzing toward the stolen feast in her hands.

“I’m back!” Tella tried not to be nervous at the lack of her mother’s response. Being anxious was her sister’s role. But Tella couldn’t stop her sense of growing unease.

An apricot fell onto the floor as Tella quickened her pace.

And then the entire tray threatened to fall from her trembling hands.

The bed was vacant.

The room was empty.

“Paloma?” Tella called. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word Mother. It hurt too much to cry out the way she had as a child and to hear no response. She’d vowed never to do it again. But it ached just as much to call her mother’s formal name with no reply.

Her throat tighter than before, Tella tried yelling both her mother’s names. “Paloma! Paradise!”

Absolutely nothing.

Tella thrust the tray onto the bed and ran into the other bedroom and then into the bathing room. Both were empty.

Her mother was gone.

Tella’s legs forgot how to work. They stumbled clumsily back into the bedroom before her knees completely quit, forcing her arms to find a nearby bedpost for support.

All Tella could hear was the fly buzzing around her abandoned food, as she tried to make sense of what could have happened. Her mother was weak. Confused. Maybe she’d gone to look for Tella and gotten lost? Tella just needed to find her and—

Her thoughts cut off at the sight of something atop the dresser by the bed. A note.

Tella clumsily pushed away from the bed. Her fingers trembled as she picked the message up. The handwriting was rushed, shaking.

* * *

My loves,