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   Chapter 182 No.182

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 6101

Updated: 2018-07-11 19:03

White Feather looked to Amaia, who gave a nod. He then let his spell drop.

The man let a slow smile cross his face.

'You're a different kind of fairy to the one my mother had, he was older and…different.' He paused. 'What is your name?'

'White Feather.'

The man smiled again.

'My mother's fairy was called Pie Frost.'

'That's a stupid name' White Feather retorted.

'I always thought so too' the man said. 'I was often told off by my mother for saying, in my younger days when I was a boy.'

'How is it that you know so much?' Amaia asked him. 'Who are you?'

'My name is Tristan' he replied. 'I am your father.'

Chapter Fifty Three

The Tower

Amaia felt a jolt in her heart. She and White Feather shared a look of shock, both in utter disbelief.

'What?' Amaia gasped.

'I am your father' Tristan repeated.

'But…why…how? I don't understand.'

Tristan indicated the table beside them.

'I think we should sit and talk' he said.

At that exact moment, the double doors opened again, and a woman came striding in. The beautiful woman was wearing a low cut dress with confidence, and colours that were vibrant and bold, speaking volumes. Her blond hair was tied up, showing off her swan-like neck, around which she wore the most beautiful jewellery.

Tristan's expression immediately darkened at the sight of her, and Amaia noticed his demeanour change, his brows knitted together as he glowered.

'My my' the woman said as she sailed into the room, a small black haired woman scurrying by her side. By the look of her simple dress, she was a servant. 'What a splendid gathering' the woman said, unable to see White Feather who had made himself invisible again, just in time as the doors had opened. 'I must say I was quite saddened to find that I was not invited.'

'Amaia' Tristan said through gritted teeth. 'This is Olithia. My wife.'

They sat at the table together, Amaia glancing from one to the other. The man, who claimed to be her father; and the woman that Amaia presumed, would claim to be her mother.

'So I suppose I have a lot I should explain to you' Tristan began.

Across the table from him Olithia knitted her fingers together, resting her chin on her hands as she leant forwards with elbows on the table.

'Are you really my father?' Amaia asked.

'Yes' Tristan spoke slowly, nodding once.

Across the table from him, Olithia smiled.

'But my father is called Farrell, and my mother…' Amaia's eyes lowered. 'She was called Ramana.'

'No' Tristan said, 'Farrell is not your father. I am.'

Across the table, Olithia's smile widened.

'But how can that be true?' Amaia asked him.

White Feather who was sitting on top of the table with his legs crossed and leaning back on his palm, watched Tristan closely, with mistrust clear in his expression.

'I suppose I should start from the beginning, from your birth….no, it was before that.' Tristan leant back in his seat, staring at the ceiling in thought. 'My mother, she became very ill. She slipped into a coma

about……..' he bit his lip in thought. 'Thirty years ago? Thirty two years ago I think?' he faced Amaia again. 'No one knows what's wrong with her; it's as if she's under a spell of some kind. She looks as if she were only sleeping, never aging, never waking, since the first day she began her long rest. I don't know if she will ever wake, but I miss her terribly.' Tristan sighed forlorn. 'I know you too have lost your mother' he said to Amaia, 'it is a horrible thing to endure. There has not been a single healer in the lands that has been able to help her. My father, the king, he has a lot of influence, but even he, even after all these long years, has not been able to find anyone who can help her, or who even knows what's wrong.' Tristan clenched his jaw. 'My father loves my mother dearly, and even to this day he has not stopped trying to save her.'

'That is a very sad story' Amaia said. 'But I don't understand what that has to do with me.'

'I will explain. My father, some time ago, after he had exhausted every other means to help his wife by any healer that exists, moved onto Weather Makers. His wife, my mother, is a Weather Maker. My father believes that another Weather Maker would be able to help her.'

'Why?' Amaia asked.

'There is no reason he should think this' Tristan said. 'He has been driven mad over the years by grief over his loss. He is not prepared to accept the possibility that his wife may never wake, so has been driven to do anything, that might work. So far nothing has, no matter how many Weather Makers have been brought before him. It seems that there is no one on this earth that can help her, but he is not willing to accept this, no matter how many times I have tried to explain or reason with him. He refuses to see what he is doing, he refuses to even listen. It has been so frustrating for me, like trying to stop the wind blowing using only words. After several years I gave up trying.' Upon the table White Feather listened closely to this, remaining in utter silence and invisible to all but Amaia. 'I miss her so much' Tristan went on. 'When it first happened I felt a physical ache in my heart, which now…years later has become only a dull throb. Though I feel I will never fully recover from losing her. We were very close. ' Tristan went silent for a moment as he thought of his mother the queen. 'I saw so many Weather Makers come and go over the years. The ones brought before my father, taken from their homes and families. I never found out what happened to them after my father had seen them, I felt so terrible for them being taken away like that. But there was little I could do to save them.' Tristan glanced towards Amaia again. 'I am the thirteenth son of my father. There is very little chance of me ever reaching the throne, but I don't care for such thing anyway, I only care for my children. When you, our second child was born' he said, glancing for the briefest of moments towards Olithia, who remained silently smiling, 'it was one of the happiest days for me. '

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