Carissa shoved open the church door and strode to where Elon awaited her.
He lifted her onto the saddle before slipping behind her. "Did you find anything in the registry?"
Carissa shook her head as they trotted down the road. "Her birth was recorded, but not her death. It appears she left, just as Doris said."
Elon slipped an arm around her waist, and Carissa's body tightened before she forced it to relax. She was getting better at that. The buildings of Hasita thinned as they rode by until forest claimed the landscape once more.
So much for her little quest to find what had happened to Marissa. She just didn't know nearly enough to pursue it... not that it mattered. Yes, it was a strange coincidence, but she had bigger things to worry about, such as the looming darkness. She sighed.
Elon peered over her shoulder. "What is it? Are you going to miss your parents?"
Her chest cramped with heartache. "I suppose, but I don't want to think about them."
"Then what?"
"I've been thinking about Marissa. I feel like there's more to the story." She shrugged. "But it's just a hunch. I don't have any way to discover what happened to her—or even a reason."
A low hum rumbled in Elon's chest. "Interesting."
She glanced back at him. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about her, would you?"
An enigmatic smile surfaced on his expression. "Perhaps."
"Perhaps?" She raised her eyebrows.
Elon shrugged. "If we were to stop briefly at the abbey of an upcoming town, you might find some answers there."
Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as her jaw fell open. "You do know something about her! Why didn't you tell me earlier? You knew I was wondering about her."
"Why wouldn't I have told you earlier?"
She suppressed a moan. Elon and his questions. "Because you like knowing something I don't."
His eyebrows arched. "Really?"
She huffed. "No."
"Then why?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't know!"
"Come now, Carissa." He pressed his lips to her temple and murmured against her skin, "Use that pretty head of yours."
A wave of warmth cascaded over her—from head to toe. Why had Elon concealed things from her before? "So I can learn to trust you?"
He leaned back from her and shrugged. "In a way. I want to help you however I can, Carissa, but I also want to give you the opportunity to invite me to help you. Not only do I want to give you a choice in the matter, but I also want you to remember to include me."
"So unless I specifically ask for something, you're not going to tell me?"
"No, not necessarily. There will be times when I'll tell you something without prompting, but there will be other times when I'll wait until you ask me." He trailed his hand down her arm before interlacing their fingers. "I know my reasoning can be frustrating at times, so I just wanted to explain. For the future."
"You are frustrating." She smiled up at him. "But I love you, and I'd never let my frustration or lack of understanding get in the way of our relationship."
His return smile was dimmer than usual. He obviously wasn't convinced.
She swallowed thickly and glanced away. He had Foresight—what if he made this assumption based off of what he saw in the future? Carissa rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the sudden tightness in her muscles. But she'd never allow anything to get between her and Elon... would she?
***
Elon lifted Carissa from the horse. Though her feet were on solid dirt, she swore she could still feel the ground shifting beneath her. Her legs wobbled like gobbleberry jam, while Elon's remained as firm and solid as two pillars.
He held her until she was able to step away from him, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. "Forgive me. I don't believe I've ever ridden a horse for so long." It's been a hard day's ride in order to reach the city before dark.
"I don't mind." His grin was slow and languorous.
All of her heated beneath his scrutiny. Elon had seemed a bit taken aback when she'd mentioned love-making earlier... but he'd also said he wasn't opposed to the topic. She stepped forward and placed a hand over his chest. And she was becoming accustomed to his touch. Perhaps tonight, they would—
"Aren't you going to go inside?"
She blinked and turned around to face stone abbey. With its sneering gargoyles and moss-slicked stone, she could easily imagine it to be a haunted castle. "You're coming with me?"
He shook his head. "I'm going to find a room in the end and a clearing for our escort. You wanted answers, didn't you?"
She nodded.
"You have two hours before dark. At that point, I'd like you to come to our room in the inn." He pointed to one at the end of the street.
A sign hung from it, displaying a slender elf, and it read: The Seven Elves. Likely it was named after the fairytale of a prince wandering into the home of seven elves. It was strange that there weren't many stories of princesses, but given that Kings never married and adopted their heirs, it made sense.
Carissa turned towards him and nodded. "I'll be back. But why can't you just tell me now?"
Light flickered in Elon's eyes. "I'll explain later. I hope you find your answers."
With that, he guided their horse towards the inn. Carissa turned to face the gothic abbey, her neck craning painfully as she glanced up at its lone tower.
It was time to discover who Marissa was.
***
Nuns glided by Carissa, their lips and gazes unmoving, their long white tunics sweeping over the floor. If the abbey were indeed a haunted castle, these nuns would be its ghostly inhabitants. Everything was silent save for the whisper of footsteps and an odd clinking—like dull wind chimes.
One of the nuns veered from her path to halt in front of Carissa. The layers of her tunic were so airy they continued to shift and flutter even when she stood still, shifted by a light draft. Or a ghostly hand.
"What—"
The nun's lips firmed, and she shook her head before gesturing Carissa to follow. She swept away without a backwards glance.
Carissa followed. Apparently the nuns weren't supposed to speak here. How was she ever going to ask the nun questions? Carissa tilted her head back to gaze at the dark depths of the ceiling, and her breath caught.
Bones dangled from above—from tiny digits to thick leg bones, even a caved-in skull. The draft stirred the bones, and they clunked against one another.
Revulsion soured her mouth, and Carissa's gaze fell back to the nun striding ahead of her. What had she gotten herself into? Did these nuns harvest these bones? Why did they collect them? More importantly: how? And would they want hers? Carissa's steps slowed for the space of a heartbeat before she caught up to the nun.
Elon had allowed her to enter the abbey on her own. Surely he wouldn't have done so if it weren't safe.
They passed beneath an arch, which lead into an octagonal courtyard, surrounded by similar arches leading into different parts of the abbey.
The nun's steps slowed, and her cloudy, unfocused eyes met Carissa's. "Forgive me, but we weren't permitted to speak in that area. It's called the Hall of Silence."
Unease burned in her stomach, and she glanced away. She wasn't particularly keen on speaking of that eerie place; she just wanted answers.
"I see the bones disturbed you." Her face creased in a smile, wrinkles blooming across her cheeks and temples. "We accept donations of bones from those who have had difficult lives—nightwomen, orphans, the poor—their bodies destined for an unmarked grave. We keep their bones there and remain silent to help us better remember the suffering of others." She seated herself on a stone bench with a grimace. "So often, it is easy to forget them when you are going about your day-to-day business, so easy to become focused on yourself to the exclusion of all else. The Hall is so we can never forget."
Carissa blinked. Suddenly, the strange choice of interior design seemed less barbaric.
"But you didn't come to listen to an old woman wag her tongue, did you, my child?"
Carissa seated herself on the opposite end of the bench. "I was told to come here to find about Marissa."
The nun grew as white and rigid as the bones she'd spoken of. "That, my child, is a tragic tale not worth telling."
"I'm familiar with tragedy. You can tell me."
Her nearly invisible eyebrows furrowed. "And who are you?"
"I'm Carissa."
The old woman actually began to sway, and she clasped the edge of the bench. "Not... possible." She leaned close to Carissa. Her pupils were nearly clouded over by blue, yet her dark eyes snapped with intelligence. "How..." The woman's lips trembled.
Carissa's breath fluttered in her chest. Why was this causing such an emotional reaction? Who was Marissa?
The woman pressed a hand to her chest, and a laugh surged from her thin lips. "After all this time, Marissa still tempts my heart to overexcitement."
"So you knew her well?"
The woman's laughter settled into the curve of her smile. "Oh, my dear, I knew her more than well. I cared for her when she had no one. I sang to her when lonely tears wet her cheeks. I met her eyes when none dared to even glance at her."
Carissa tilted her head. That last statement struck her as odd. "She was unsightly, then?"
The woman smiled. "No, I'm sure beneath the injuries she was lovely."
"Injuries?"
"Yes, she was in a terrible accident before she fled to the abbey."
"And how long was she at the abbey?"
"Four years."
A cold sweat shimmered against Carissa's skin, and she stiffened lest she succumb to the dizziness swirling in her head. "You mean to say that she didn't heal in all that time?"
"She couldn't, Carissa. She was inflicted by a curse."
"Cursed?" Carissa's voice squeaked, as if the hinges of her tongue were rusty.
"Yes, my dear." Her eyes fixed on Carissa. "As are you."
Carissa leaned back to better see the woman before her, who knew more than she'd first appeared to. "This, I know. But how do you know?"
The woman's lips met in a sad, fond smile. "Because you're her daughter."
Incredulous laughter spilled from her lips. "Her daughter? So the curse is passed on through blood?"
The nun nodded.
Carissa opened her mouth to contradict her, only to close it. Her mother had said something in the heat of their argument: Then I could have died at least thinking my daughter truly loved me, that the girl I took into my family would never abandon me. Could Carissa's mother have adopted her? "What happened to Marissa? Why didn't she raise me?"
"The curse... it overwhelmed her. And she died." Her lower lid shimmered with unshed tears.
"Yet she birthed me beforehand."
The nun avoided her gaze.
Tears prickled Carissa's eyes, and she blinked them away. "She died birthing me, didn't she?"
"She... she did."
"Then why didn't you keep me? Why was I adopted?"
The nun smoothed her tunic, her gnarled hands trembling. "The abbey is no place for a child, my dear."
"But that wasn't why you didn't keep me, was it?"
The nun's sigh fluttered past her thin lips. "No. Under the circumstances of your birth, you would have been the subject of much scrutiny and gossip."
Carissa frowned. "I was born... out of wedlock?"
The nun nodded.
"And my father—who was he?"
"I haven't the slightest clue—nor do I want to."
Carissa's expression twisted in confusion. Her mother had a secret lover then? One the nun so disapproved of that she hadn't wanted to know him?
"I see you require an explanation." The nun's poise cracked for a moment as she squirmed, her cheeks reddening. "One night, Marissa went to the local pub. She found a man in his cups, and together they had you."
Carissa's eyes widened. The rest of her face felt too numb to even move.
"When Marissa returned, so imbibed she could barely stand, she was covered in purple bruises with blood on her skirt. I would have had that man hunted down for ravishment, but Marissa refused to reveal his identity. She said it was her aim that night to know a man in hopes she might have a child, and she cared not how it was done."
Carissa shoved to her feet, shaking so badly she swore her bones were rattling. "Excuse me." She'd barely stumbled to a patch of dead grass when bile surged up her throat. Once she'd spat the last of it out, she remained on her hands and knees, panting.
Just thinking of what her mother endured sickened her, and she kept her eyes wide open, lest the blackness behind her lids tempted her to dark memories.
Carissa drew the back of her wrist across her mouth and stood. "She succeeded?"
The nun nodded.
"But why? Why was she so desperate to get a child that she resorted to..." Carissa suppressed a shudder.
"As injured as she was, no sober man wanted her."
"And how had she gotten injured?"
"At fourteen, she fell off her horse and was left with gashes and bruises. Once she realized they weren't healing, she fled her home village of Hasita, lest her curse frighten the villagers, causing them to act rashly. As she grew older, she gradually accumulated more injuries."
Carissa grimaced, recalling how her own body had gradually deteriorated until she'd met Elon. "And why was begetting a child so important to her?"
The nun leaned back, her palms pressing against the bench behind her. "She found an ancient book in our library, detailing the Curse and its history."
"Its history?" Carissa sat on the bench. "Where can I find this book?"
The nun's lips thinned until they nearly disappeared. "After Marissa read it, she was so upset by its contents she sold it. I only know what she's told me. Through the book, she learned that she needed the King to wed and heal her. But Marissa was convinced the King would never want her, and she was too stubborn to request his help on her behalf."
Too stubborn to request help. She knew what that was like.
"While she had lost hope for herself and refused to even hope the King would forgive her, she thought that should she have a daughter, things might be different for her. She could have let the Curse die with her, but the consequences would have been costly."
"What would have happened?"
"I know not. Again, the book she read has been lost to us. So instead, she decided to birth a child, hoping her daughter would be the one to fulfill the prophecy."
"Prophecy? Did she say what prophecy?"
The nun shook her head. "She explained a few things while she was drunk, but once she'd sobered, she kept to herself for the duration of her pregnancy. In truth, it's a miracle you were born as healthy as you were, considering all that your mother endured."
"How did my adoptive parents find me?"
"They didn't find you; the King found them."
Carissa shifted on the hard stone bench. "The King? You mean Elon's father?"
The woman's wispy eyebrows bounced—probably from Carissa's casual reference to Elon. "Yes. With her dying breaths, your mother dictated a letter to the King, asking him to betroth his son to you and to have you raised in her home village in the meantime. I didn't think he'd come... but he did. Though he'd never met her, he was heartbroken that she'd died and only asked for aid when it was too late. He found a wife and husband who were unable to have children and assigned them to be your guardians."
Carissa curved her back to rest her forearms on her knees. Her posture was unladylike, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "Why did you never come to explain these things to me?"
The nun shrugged, but her quivering lips belied her nonchalance. "Even seeing you as a child hurt. It reminded me of her, and that reminded me of how I'd failed to protect her. Perhaps if I'd convinced her the King would have forgiven her or if I'd kept better watch the night she'd snuck out... Regardless, I know those are feeble excuses, and I apologize." The nun studied her for a moment. "Now, indulge me by answering my question. The betrothal—did it come to pass?"
Before she could even speak, she felt her cheeks warm as a smile teased the edge of her lips. Elon's love for her would never cease to leave her awash in awe and gratitude.
The nun's eyes sparkled, but before she could comment, another nun rushed towards them, her dark eyes wide. "Abbess, Talia has desecrated the sanctuary."
Abbess? Then the women she'd spoken to wasn't a mere nun.
"Oh." The abbess rose from the bench with a grimace. "What did she do this time?"
"She wrote the most vile things about Sheralyn in charcoal."
"I'll have to have a talk with Talia, then." The abbess turned towards Carissa. "Do you require anything else?"
Carissa nodded and rose. There was one more thing she had to see before she left. "My mother's grave—where is it?"