A whisper distracted Alyssa, coming from all around, and without thinking about it, she extended her hand, and a little pink flower blossomed in her palm. It was her favorite flower, which she always picked for Elliandre as a child. They grew wild by the stream edging the rose gardens.
Elliandre sobbed. It was the first time she had ever seen her mother cry, and it ripped through her. She closed her hand, and the flower disappeared.
“I am sorry. She thought it would soothe you,” Alyssa apologized.
“She? The other Alyssa? I heard what Abigail said to you last night. I heard it all, but my heart refused to admit it,” Elliandre said with tears streaming down her face, standing as if she wanted to approach Alyssa, but couldn’t make herself move.
“Then you learned all there is to learn. I a
