Simeth's Bride (Crystal Glass Dragons 2)

7

Mara

I’d never felt this lost over a man before.

To be fair, the circumstances were so far beyond anything I’d ever experienced, but even then, it felt so extreme. Every moment with Simeth was full of strange heady feelings that I only noticed afterwards. I wasn’t the type to go gaga over a man, but he had me feeling like I was losing it.

Going back to Ember Abyss after Crystal Glass felt cruel.

It wasn’t fair.

I wanted to explore more, see everything, and yet I knew that I had a duty to take care of my grandmother. She raised me, the least I could do was try and convince her to see a doctor about that cough, which was sounding particularly severe as I rushed through the door.

“Hon, where have you been? The Bagnalls have been calling me scared!” Gran exclaimed.

“Hi, yeah—crap I messed up,” I blurted out, realizing what I’d done. I’d always been so diligent about my work. I’d never messed up this badly before.

“They said you vanished after finishing it, with your tools all over the ground.” She paused to cough, and I rubbed her back with the palm of my hand.

“I’ll pick up my things in the morning. Have you had food?” I asked.

“I heated up some soup.” She swatted away my hand. “Joan is going to be home soon, go wash up,” she added hastily.

I froze.

Joan, my mother, hadn’t been around for twenty-three years.

She and my father had passed away in a boating accident on a river south of the Purple Ridge. Regardless of what my grandmother believed about ghosts or demons; my mom wasn’t coming back. She hadn’t messed up this badly in the memory department in ages; it had me worried. My grandmother was a brilliantly creative and clever woman. If she lost much of her memory, it would be like burning down a branch of a library. So much would be lost.

“Gran, can you sit down for me? I need you to relax a little.” I tried to keep my voice soft and soothing.

“No, now is not the time,” she said, knitting her brow.

“I’m going to take care of everything, let me make you some tea.” I started heating up the kettle she kept on the stove.

“Joan doesn’t like tea, she likes coffee,” she growled.

“I’ll make her some coffee when she shows up,” I countered. I wasn’t going to break whatever spell she was under. I knew her mind was slipping, but I’d been so focused on the cough that I hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten. It only usually happened when she got upset. I hoped this would pass easily.

“Come here,” I murmured. She let me lead her into a kitchen chair, and I plopped a tea bag into a mug for her. “What did you do today?” I asked.

“I had a long phone call with the Robertsons,” she answered readily. Then I watched some TV, and I kept meaning to walk but I remembered Joan is … Joan is…” her voice trailed off and I steadied myself for it. Looking over at me I watched as her mind turned over the memory like a rock it was trying to smooth out. “My Joanie died when you were almost three,” she acknowledged in frustration.

I nodded and poured boiling water over her tea bag with a scoop of sugar.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. Her voice was wrought with concern, and I figured this could be the right time.

“I’m going to schedule a doctor’s appointment for you,” I said plainly.

“N-no,” she replied, her voice wavering.

“You don’t have to see a witch, and it doesn’t have to be magic. I just think it’s time you get actual help,” I countered. It felt like an empty threat, and I knew that. Even if I scheduled it, she’d just refuse to go, and I’d be down a couple of hundred for the cancellation charge.

“I don’t need help, I just got a little confused,” she stated before her voice devolved into a cough.

“Gran, I just want to make sure you’re okay,” I explained.

“I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes.