"Tell me, Jocelynn," the Olive Seed said. "Do you truly believe that a woman like you deserves a life like this?"
Jocelynn opened her eyes.
The Olive Seed sat in Old Nan's chair as though it had always been there, a figure carved from silver-grey olive wood in the shape of her sister. It had Ashlynn's curvy figure and her delicate, expressive features, but where Ashlynn's green eyes should have been, there were only two empty hollows, like windows looking out into the Void.
Jocelynn didn't answer the seed. Not right away.
Instead, she looked around the great hall of Ollie's manor, slowly, as if she knew that it was the last time she would ever see the cherished space before leaving it behind.
The long table still smelled of butter and roasted grouse. A smear of strawberry juice stained the boards where Olver had been sitting, and one of the garden benches had been left askew. Zedya's blankets lay warm and soft in her lap, jade green and cerulean blue.
