Thunder rumbled as they sat on Mara’s bed, Reigna at one side, her legs hanging over the edge, Eden semi-reclined, leaning on one elbow, and Vida at the end, wiping her hand against the smooth softness of the cotton bedding.
Holding a rosewood box that boasted intricately carved scrolls and whirls on its cover, Mara opened it, then retrieved something from within.
“This belonged to your mother,” she said, holding it up.
Reigna took the trinket, a hairpin of gold, studded in multi-colored crystals that shone in the candlelight. She turned it over. “It’s beautiful!”
“Yes.” Mara explained how she believed that the crystals were some of the magic ones the Oathtakers created and used as weapons—the same kind that made up the windows of the main sanctuary building in Polesk.
“I can’t imagine where they came from though,” she said, “since no one seemed aware of an Oathtaker’s magic ability to make them until Basha and I discovered it when we came back here to the palace to retrieve the great scepter. That of course, was when you two were just infants.”
She looked off at nothing in particular, biting her lip. Then she said, “I suppose like so much of our lore, the information was simply lost through the ages.” She glanced back at the twins. “Even Lucy, who as you well know is centuries old, didn’t know about them.”
Reigna looked the item over again. Handing it to her twin, she asked, “Where do you suppose it’s from?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve no idea. It may have been an heirloom her mother gave to her.”
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