Quietly sneaking into the little house, the visitor halted in the kitchen doorway and studied the woman seated inside. A single candle lit the room, lending a warmer tone to Rizanne’s skin and gentling her expression. Her huddled posture and the white-knuckled grip on her steaming mug – tea, by the scent of it – belied the calm of her face.
“Still fond of strawberry tea, little one?”
Rizanne looked up, startled, as her visitor pulled her hood back. A genuine smile chased some of the shadows from her eyes.
“Vianne!”
The older elf smiled back and easily caught Rizanne, only needing a half step back to compensate for the flying tackle of a hug she’d been greeted with. Practice made perfect, after all.
“I am sorry I did not come sooner, little one.” Vianne let her remorse seep into her voice, wanting there to be no doubt that she meant it.
“Doesn’t matter,” Rizanne mumbled into her shoulder. “Sitahn told me what you did for him, and I’m grateful. Meredith was as well. It’s no wonder if Salan kept you close after asking a favor like that.”
Vianne nodded, tightening her grip. Asking an elven god to help a human was no small thing, and only a Devoted could expect to have such a wish granted.
“Roland was a good child,” she said, “and if you loved him he must have been a good man. I wish I could have done more for you both.”
Rizanne stepped back with a wistful smile. “He was human, and this was never meant to last. We all knew that.”
They both sat down at the table. Rizanne reclaimed her tea, knowing better than to offer Vianne anything. She kept her gaze lowered, well aware of her sister’s piercing stare.
“It is difficult for me to give you advice in this,” Vianne said slowly. “I have never loved as you have, nor even as you will, but I do remember the hurt of abandonment. Loneliness is a wasting sickness to someone like you, and I would ask you not to make it your shroud. Grieve your loss, but do not pretend that you are friendless.” Her eyes were softer than her voice when Rizanne looked up, the expression taking some of the sting from her words. “You are not like me, little one. Take comfort as you find it, and one day you will find happiness again. A lesser kind, perhaps, but just as real. And when you leave this life, Roland will be waiting.”
Rizanne swallowed. “I’ve been listening… I’m afraid to hear my melody change.”
“Why?” Vianne asked harshly, making her sister flinch. “Melodies must flow with the changes of the Song, just as Roland’s melody is changed by your parting. But no matter how you and he change, you will always be harmony together.”
Rizanne swallowed a protest, watching her sister warily. “Are you sure of that?”
“Yes.” Vianne’s nod was decisive. “I can hear the truth in your voice as you speak of him, and so can the Voices of the Choir. Your melody never rang as clear and pure as when you were with him. To keep you apart would be a discord in the Song.” She smiled faintly. “Harmony is what they strive for, and what you will bring them. There is no need to fear.”
Like every time before, Rizanne could not find it in herself to doubt that tone. Vianne was many things, but when she spoke in the deep resonance of a Voice she could not lie.
“I’ll make friends here,” Rizanne promised. She reached across the table to grip Vianne’s hands. “I’ll find reasons to go on and reasons to smile. It was the only thing he asked of me, and I won’t fail him again.”
She listened to the low tone of determination, heard the higher note of fear fade away. A two-note chord joined in, faint but unmistakable. Rizanne blinked in surprise and gave Vianne a rueful smile.
Big sisters are always right, she thought fondly.
That particular chord had been missing for years… The sound of her contentment.