Rose winced as pale light spilled across her face. She yawned and stretched out her hands upwards. She felt stiff as a board; her shoulders were tight, and the left side of her neck hurt from sleeping in one position for too long.She slept on the bench with her head resting on her mother's bed. This has become a habit now. Rose had been doing this for the past week—the urge not to leave her mother alone, even for a moment, kept her sleeping in this manner.
Rose jumped as she realized her mother was looking at her with disapproval on her face.
"Mot'er," she called in shock. "You're awake? Did I oversleep?" Rose asked with a lighthearted laugh, but her mother's expression remained serious.
Rose yawned and looked around the room. Her father wasn't anywhere to be seen; he was either in the other room or outside the house. She knew he didn't go far anymore—always close by.
The window was slightly open, allowing a bit of sunlight to stream through, but it didn't feel very warm. It should have been a good day, but Rose suddenly felt restless.
"Let me get breakfast ready," Rose said and started to get to her feet.
"Stay," her mother said with a plea.
It was so unexpected that Rose sat back before she even thought about it. Her mother struggled to lift her hand, and Rose grabbed it. Her mother's hand felt cold, but it was still so comforting to hold.
Her mother smiled at this, and Rose kissed the palm of her hand, causing her mother to smile even harder.
"Mi little Rosie," her mother called with a gasp.
Rose placed her mother's palm on her forehead, and her mother gently rubbed her hand over her head. Rose felt a smile slip out; she couldn't help it—it felt so nice.
She raised her head to see her mother looking at her. She seemed as though she wanted to speak, but it was hard to speak. Rose didn't think her mother needed to say anything—she understood. However, understanding wasn't the same thing as accepting.
Rose pulled her mother's hand away from her head and stood up. "Let me get breakfast ready, and this time, no skipping the herbs."
Iris gently closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her daughter was by the fireplace adding new wood as she prepared to start cooking.
Iris felt her heart squeeze as memories of Rose as a baby cradled in her arms flooded her mind. Her daughter had grown so fast, and Iris had had to rely on her for almost all of Rose's life. She didn't get to live like other kids—to be carefree and worry about nothing. Rather, all she had was a sick mother.
Before the age of ten, Rose could handle cooking easy meals, and by that time, she was well acquainted with cleaning up after her mother and being at her beck and call.
If it weren't for her, Rose would have married Ander a long time ago. She would have been married by sixteen. The lad was only a year older than her, and it was common for childhood love to marry this young.
However, her selfless daughter had sacrificed for her—and what did she get in return? The crown prince had noticed her, and now she had lost the love of her life and her best friend. Iris had brought nothing but misery to her daughter.
Iris held back her tears; she couldn't let Rose see. Her daughter would stop everything to find out what was wrong. Iris closed her eyes to stop the tears from flowing. She really did have the best daughter. It was a pity she wouldn't see her grandchildren. She knew they would be just like their mother.
"Mot'er," Rose whined. "Don't tell me you're sleeping again."
"Yer mot'er is awake?" her husband asked as he walked into the room.
"Fat'er," Rose said with glee. "Just in time for breakfast."
Iris opened her eyes and locked eyes with her husband. His gaze softened as he met hers, but it didn't hide his worry. He rushed toward her as if being pulled, and Iris couldn't help the burst of happiness she felt. It almost made everything easier.
This huge man loved her, and there was not a single doubt about it. She really did have a great life—a great husband and a wonderful daughter. What more could a woman like her, who barely had much to offer, ask for?
Rose made her eat breakfast, and Iris did her best to eat as much as she could. She didn't miss the smile on her daughter's face as she ate more than usual. Iris would have eaten the whole bowl if she could, if it would take the dark look from Rose's eyes.
By evening, she was too tired; her thoughts felt scrambled. She couldn't even eat, but she did her best to keep the herbs down. Not that it mattered—but it made Rose so happy.
Once again, her daughter sat on the bench, ready to sleep. Iris had dozed off, and when she woke up, Rose was seated on the bench with her father, even though it was too late to be awake.
"Sleep on yer bed," Iris forced herself to say.
Her husband and daughter seemed startled to hear her voice.
"Mot'er," Rose said and grabbed her mother's hand.
"Rosie… not again," she forced out and started to cough.
Rose quickly rushed for water. "I will lie on my bed, so please stop forcing yourself to speak," she said as she gently gave her mother water.
Iris smiled and drank a little before moving her head away. Rose took the hint immediately and disposed of the rest of the water. Iris watched her daughter set up the bed next to the fireplace; she wore her black coat and cozied up to sleep.
Iris watched until she fell asleep, which didn't take too long. She wasn't surprised—her daughter had been pushing herself for too long, and it had gotten particularly worse in the past few days. It was no surprise she was exhausted.
Iris was glad she got to see her again. She didn't have anything but prayers to give her daughter. She prayed she would find happiness and someone who would cherish and take care of her as she couldn't have.
Iris felt cold fingers at the corner of her eyes, and she realized she was crying. It was really hard to say goodbye. Iris smiled. "Will ye bear me in yer arms?" she asked as she turned her gaze to the love of her life.
Asking this question required effort, and it left her completely spent. But soon enough, warm arms lifted her off the bed. Her husband placed her across his legs and wrapped huge, warm arms around her. It was so warm that Iris sighed in quiet satisfaction.
She rested her head on his chest, and he rested his chin on the top of her head. Iris closed her eyes; she didn't think she had ever been this comfortable in her life.
Vallyn's scent hadn't changed much from the first day they met. She wished she had been able to have more children for him, but she knew Vallyn didn't care about such things. All he cared about was her, their daughter, and wood—just three things, and she was about to take one away from him.
"Mi love," he whispered into her hair as he held her tight.
Iris' heart felt full, she truly couldn't have asked for more. "I love ye, always," Iris said with a cough.
"I know, don't speak—"
"Don't spend too long mournin' me," she whispered.
Iris took her last breath as the words left her lips, her head pressed against his chest and a smile on her face.