We made our way inside. Mother led the way to the informal parlor. The formal parlor was where guests were most often entertained, but the informal parlor was where my mother was prone to bring her friends. It was a comfortable room with a big fireplace and large bay windows. I dropped wearily into a deep wingback chair. Mother and Father sat side-by-side on a couch, and Chris plopped down on the rug in front of the fire, his eyes full of curiosity. I wasn’t sure how much to tell them, but there was one thing I knew I needed to say.

“Father…” I paused to gather my thoughts, then continued. “Father, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but, well, I’m not part Ritah anymore. Look.” I held up my hand, palm toward me so that he could see my normal human fingernails. “I’ve lost my latent power too. I can never be a mage.”

Father shook his head saying, “I had noticed. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but it doesn’t matter, Ashen. You’re my son. I don’t care if you’re a grand high master or blind, deaf, and dumb. You’re my son!” He said it with such fierce conviction that my eyes welled up with tears again. He really did want me. Me, and not my power, not my potential as an heir to the Kestral house, he loved me just for me. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and looked up again. My father’s expression was a mixture of remorse and longing. “Can you ever forgive me for treating you so badly that you could doubt how much I love you?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

After that there were a lot more tears, and a great many explanations. I told my story, only leaving out the details of how I’d killed Lord Morren. “I saw a chance and I took it,” was all I said, and my parents respected my silence, though Chris piped up asking, “Did you cut his throat?”

“Chris!” said mother.

“No, I didn’t cut his throat,” I said, though at that moment the image of Lord Morren lying on the workroom floor with his throat shredded, the taste of his blood in my mouth in a sickening echo of the blood he’d drunk came back to me. I think something must have shown on my face, for my parent’s expressions both darkened with concern, but neither of them said anything.

After a long silence Mother broke it by saying, “You can tell us everything else later. You look terrible. You should get a bath, have some food, and get some rest.”

I smiled at her. It was amazingly wonderful to hear her ordinary voice saying such ordinary things. “Thanks. That sounds wonderful. Especially the bath part. I haven’t had a real bath in ages.”

We all got up. Mom hugged me one more time. She sniffed and with a grin and a twinkle in her eye said, “You definitely need that bath son.” I laughed, really laughed for the first time in what seemed like years.

“I’m so glad to be back,” I said again and then I went to get that bath.