She stood and paced, her hands pressed together and her index fingers to her lips.
A minute later, she turned back. “Yes, I remember it all now.” Then she recited what Skelly had said:
Bear me now.
Bear me then.
Dare to sense me even when.
She shook her head, grinning. “Like I said, it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe you’re not remembering it correctly,” Eden suggested.
“Oh, no, I’m certain I got the words right.” Lucy cocked her head, thinking. “I wonder if Skelly was referencing the fact that Rowena would bear twins—you know, with the language: ‘Come one. Come two.’ Hmmm. I suppose that’s possible. Although what the rest of it all could mean is beyond me.”
She paused, once again contemplating. “In any case, the old woman told your mother that this,” she gestured toward the shawl, “was for her seventh-born. Of course, the mystery is in whether she did in fact mean just you, Reigna,” she nodded at her, “or you also, Eden,” she added, glancing her way, “in that you are the ‘seventh seventh who is, but is not,’ of prophetic fame.”
Mara put her empty cup down. “Since Skelly told your mother that it was for her seventh-born, that may explain why she took it along with her when she left here pregnant with you two,” she said to the twins. “So, I guess that betwixt yourselves, you’ll have to decide what you’d like to do with it.”
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