A Hyacinth for my trust

At first she wants to laugh.

Then the option of scolding Caleb feels sweet on her lips.

She’s ready from a sarcastic reply too.

In the end she does nothing.

Willow only looks at Caleb, his curls mused, only half his face made visible by the flame. His eyes are focused on the fire they barely figured out how to start, like the two spoiled royal brats they’ve been raised as.

Despite his height, he looks small and fragile. He looks lost.

It shouldn’t be like this. He’s the big brother, the smart sibling, her protector. He should tell her not be scared or worried or ready to throw herself in that horrible excuse of a fire...

 'It will be okay little bird. I’m here. You’ve got me’. He doesn’t say any of that. He doesn’t even glance at her. Maybe it is the bruise on her cheeks or maybe it is the green in her eyes. They look too close to mother’s.

So he doesn’t crack jokes or offer comfort. Instead, it's Willow who feels the urge to cover him in a blanket, feed him soup and hide him from the world until all the evil is gone.

Caleb’s always been a mamma's boy, so maybe his behaviour is not that strange.

She has their mother’s eyes but Caleb has her wit, her brains and the lopsided smile. Caleb is the one who used to help her translate fragments from old books, Caleb, who’d listen to the stories, Caleb, who’d forsake any manners or unwritten rule when she showed up after a travel. Caleb is the one so used to her perfume that he doesn’t even notices it anymore.

Hyacinths...Strong yet understated...

Blue hyacinths, like her favourite flower.

Hyacinths, like the one she’d bring to father’s grave once a year.

Hyacinths....like the way the letter smelled.

She doesn’t even notice the tears until the salty taste is on her lips.

She may not have been as close to her mother as Caleb, she may not share their love of books or the ability for quick jokes but it doesn’t matter in the end.

She has her mom’s eyes and keeps the ribbon she gave her at three years old. She still remembers the pretty dresses, the way they twirled and sparkled when she moved.

Mom was the most beautiful shelter she's ever had....She was the last shelter she’s ever had.

She’s been gone so much that Caleb doesn’t really feel like family anymore. He’s some boy she knew once, a boy who would tell jokes and kiss the scraped knees and protect her from the dark.

But she went away after father died. She used the fancy schools to hide away, to forget who she is, to bury her past like she did her father.

And Caleb let her bury him with no objection.

Mom never did it though. Mom wrote and visited and kissed her cheek. Mom wept with her and braided her hair.

Mom was her protector when she didn’t care for protection anymore.

She trusted mother more than she trusted the sun to come up in the morning.

Maybe Caleb was the one who loved her the most, but it was Willow who lost the last family that fought tooth and nail for her.

She bites her lip so as not to laugh at the absurdity of that thought.

She’s cold and the woods are still dark despite the fire.

She’s hungry and tired and in pain.

And sure it may be the bruises or her twisted ankle but she know that’s not true.

She was supposed to come home for good this time. She was supposed to stay.

Alas, maybe running is her fate after all.

The first thing she did when the assassins came was to think of her mother. Not the of the guards, not of Caleb....her mother. Oh, the irony.

It was stupid luck that saved her not some skill or some great God. If you can count falling in the river and holding your breath and your ground enough for the men to go, follow the current as luck of course.

She was wet and shivering when Caleb grabbed her and hid them in a bush.

He had a cut on his neck and no sword. There was blood on his hands and a letter to his belt.

It was supposed to be a nice, quiet trip through the woods to the cabin, but they’ve been separated somehow, the carriage broke down and the guards were gone. They even killed the horses.

In the end both of them hid until the night fell and then they began walking deep into the forest, deep enough so they couldn’t be found so easily.

It was her shivering and a wolf hauling that made them stop and start a fire. Risky but not much of a choice.

That’s when Caleb handed her the letter.

“I grabbed it from one of them. It seemed important enough to die for it.”

She read it out loud, squinting her eyes and leaning towards the flames.

It had everything. Their location, the name of the guards, the way they looked, what scared them....And a deadline.

Someone wanted them dead as soon as possible and was willing to pay enough to make any prison or even a hanging worth it.

She tried figuring out the writing first. It was harsh but eligible, leaning a bit to one side like the left hand had been used. Easy enough, right? Except she didn’t know anyone left handed and in possession of such great fortune.

Still, there was this bell ringing in her brain, this feeling like she should know, she must now.

“We can find someone to send a message to mother. To warn her” Caleb had whispered and Willow frowned.

Who was it?

Then it hit her.

A faded smell of perfume mixed with the smoke from the fire....Hyacinths....

She doesn’t know if it was a gasp or a sob that came out of her mouth but she saw Caleb moving his mouth.

No.....

No, no, no.....

“Willow!” he yelled.

“Mom...” it sounded weak and low but she swallowed hard and tried again “It smells like mom...Her perfume...”

And of course Caleb, in all his erudition, didn’t get it.

“Do you think they have her?” the panic in his voice was clear and he looked ready to stand up and rescue mom if he had to.

Willow only shook her head.

“You told her we were going...” he blinked at her and Willow could almost see the knot in his throat “She has the money...So much money...”

He didn’t believe her at first.

She made him smell the letter, repeated everything more than once, until he finally got it.

It smashed him like a boulder in the ribs but he got it.

So here they are now...

Willow wants to laugh so hard that her lungs will explode.

Was it all a trick? All the letters and the hugs and the lopsided smiles?

Was mom the reason Caleb felt like a stranger and looked like the ghost of her big brother?

Was father gone because of her?

Was she an orphan now?

She definitely felt like it. Alone and broken.

Betrayed by the only thing she held onto so tight. Her only lightning road.

The dots and letters look strangely familiar now.

She never knew her mother could write with both hands.

She never knew lots of things apparently.

“North?” she asks, swallowing the pain deep down, burying it in the same place as her father, in the same place she put Caleb to rest.

Her brother only nodded.

They’ll go far away, enough so she’d tell everybody they died or they are lost.

They’ll find an abandoned house or beg for food or work or steal. It doesn’t matter really.

Willow knows she’ll come back one day. She’ll come back stronger and ready.

Ready for what she doesn’t know.

For now, she still works on keeping her pain buried, stifled by anger and every curse she can think of until she’s all numb inside.

The letter is crumbled in her hand.

She thinks about keeping it. Proof she’s not imagining everything. Proof for others to believe her.

But the smell makes her stomach turn and her soul ache.

She throws it in the fire.