The Lost Life of Laraine

Chapter 22

"Laraine!"

I felt my stomach plummet to the ground when my mother, Lady Jenova, was right in the entrance, like she was waiting for me.

She came right up to me, freezing just before she reached me with her hands held out like she was going to hug me. But I just stared at her, confused if I was supposed to do something or not.

"Uh," she awkwardly dropped her hands, wiping them on her dress, "How are you? How was your mission?"

"It was good, Lady Jenova, thank you for asking," I curtsied, staring at my boots. I didn't have a change to change into a more ladylike attire, so I felt rather embarrassed by my boyish appearance.

I felt her eyes burn the top of my head, a familiar feeling as I'm beginning to realize.

"I wanted to say thank you."

My head whipped so quickly that I swear I could feel my neck snap. My mother has never spoken to me, so it was quite a shock to hear the first thing she says to me is "Thank you."

"I heard you were the one who saved my life," she crouched down to eye level, giving me a big smile, "So thank you."

"It was my pleasure Lady Jenova," I bowed, excusing myself and tried not to sprint straight to my room but I definitely looked like I fled I straight to my wing of the castle. Not even looking back at the woman who was holding back tears.

"Jenova?" Gerris questioned when his wife burst into his office with tears in her eyes, "I thought you went to greet Laraine?"

"I did!" She sobbed, collapsing onto the office couch, burying her face in the cushions, not caring that her makeup was rubbing off on the green velvet. The elegance and etiquette that she held onto since she was a child was shredded off in mere seconds as her husband went to lock the door. 

"And?"

"She ran away from me," she mumbled into the couch, just remembering her little girl wouldn't even look her in the eyes. Taking in her appearance, Laraine was dressed in what commoners would wear, and she looked tired and a bit worn out and the burns on her face and arms were very prominent. In other words, she did not look like a child at all.

Gerris just sat next to Jenova, patting her back comfortingly. The look of Laraine's face when she was on her knees, her hands tied behind her back, wearing a dirty dress and her hair was matted in sweat, dirt, oil, and blood. It was the day of her execution, and she looked up to the sky, tears rolling down her cheeks and a content smile on her face.

That was his daughter up there.

And all he did was stand there and watch her die.

"Gerris say something," Jenova sniffled, sitting up and grabbing onto his hands, "What should I do? What should we do? She's has grown up so much without us."

He remained silent, thinking deeply about this.

It would be too jarring to just suddenly integrate her into family life. And according to his sources, she seemed perfectly content with how her life currently is. Though she's completely untrained with her element and it seems just having a knight as a teacher is where she is lacking.

"How about we get her a mentor?" He suggested somewhat out of the blue.

"For what?" Jenova sniffled, taking out her handkerchief to wipe off her snot and tears.

"To master her element, all of us can't help her, and if she is going to go on more adventures, it will benefit her greatly."

Thinking about it, Jenova could only think about her vague and blurry memory of burning her own daughter. Laraine's scars will never be healed, even with the strongest of magic medicines available. Laraine was only trying to help, and she did, and her only payment was permanent marks representing the years of neglect she has been put through.

"She already exceptional," Gerris went on, "She's just needs a little bit more control."

"How do you know?" Jenova questioned, under the impression that Gerris neglects their first daughter as much as she did.

"I have a friend watching over her," he explained, but ended that explanation right there.

Tilting her head curiously, Jenova chose not to push the topic, trusting her husband completely. It seems like he is holding his own regrets regarding their daughter, and it seems both are on the same page to make it up to her.

"Well what should I do while you get her a mentor?" Jenova stood, a new fuel in her fire.

He paused, going back to his desk, catching a glimpse of the new budget he was making for the West wing.

"How about shopping?" He suggested, knowing Jenova hasn't been to the shops since she was bedridden, and Laraine seems to only have gone to the same few shops for her needs, never for pleasure.

"Perfect!" Jenova suddenly shot out of her seat, feeling the passion go through her. If there was one thing she was good at, it was keeping up with high societal trends and even being the trailblazer for a lot of it. She was about to leave before freezing in her spot, not even a step away from the couch. "Should I bring Phonia?"

Delphonia Ira Fortunith, the angel of the Fortunith family as well as the youngest.

She didn't even know of her eldest sister. The only thing Delphonia knew was that the West wing was forbidden and her brothers and cousins would tell her horror stories of the ghost of a lost Fortunith family member.

She has seen the ghost herself, well glimpses of her anyways. A girl with long black hair and striking blue eyes. Delphonia has only seen her once, but the image of her walking through the halls was forever etched in her mind.