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Mrs. Southwick’s voice was much softer as she said, “I’ll put on a fresh kettle.”
“I don’t have much time,” Killian began to protest, but his mother held up a hand.
“You always have time for a cup of tea with your mother.” Without another word, she filled the kettle and hung it on the hearth.
Killian didn’t speak as he waited for the water to boil. His heart was still racing from the encounter with Siamus. Something about seeing that man in his own home, chumming it up with his mother, had deeply unsettled him. Why had Siamus made a special trip just to talk to him? Was their business really so important to him? Or was there more to the meeting than he realized?
The sharp whistle of the kettle interrupted his thoughts. As his mother poured the boiling water, the scent of lemon and sacred basil wafted toward him, instantly calming him. He didn’t know if it was the effects of the herbs or a sort of nostalgia from so many nights sitting at that very table and drinking that very tea, that steadied his heart.
Mrs. Southwick set the two cups on the table. She rested her chin on her fisted hand and gave Killian an encouraging look. “Now, tell me what’s on your mind.”
Killian’s shoulders fell as he absentmindedly stirred his tea. Where to even begin?
“I found Elyse,” he said quietly, bracing for his mother’s reaction.
To his surprise, she merely nodded. “I suspected as much.”
He blinked. “Oh, did you now?” he asked, a hint of jest in his voice.
His mother’s reply was simple yet cryptic: “Bonded souls have a way of finding each other.”
Killian cocked his head. Bonded souls? What sort of bullshit was that?
At the look on his face, her smile widened. “I just mean that… When two people have been through a lot together, the universe has a way of bringing them together.”
Killian stared at his tea, considering his mother’s words. It sounded ridiculous. The universe hadn’t forced their paths to cross—their connections and Killian’s hard work had.
Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something larger was playing out.
“So, are you going to turn her in?” Mrs. Southwick asked. There was no judgment in her voice, only a sort of prodding, as if she were walking him through the situation yet allowing him to make his own conclusion.
“I don’t have a choice,” Killian uttered. He quickly explained everything that had happened—about Prestowne, the blood oath, Ymaritis. As his mother listened, sorrow grew on her face, crinkling the faint crow’s feet that surrounded her dark eyes.
“Oh, honey,” she sighed when he finished. The pain in her features only affirmed his own agony.
“What am I going to do, Mum?” he asked, his voice cracking.
He wished he was still a young boy, that his mum could tell him everything would be all right, and he would believe her. Looking at his mother’s saddened expression, he knew she felt the same way.
“Well, hon,” she breathed, “if Elyse made her decision, you might have to let her face that.”
At her words, a darkness entered his heart, eclipsing its light. He knew some part of his mother’s sentiment was correct. Elyse had made up her mind, and when she was set on something, she didn’t let anyone get in her way. She was adamant that she needed to make things right. But to die for it? This couldn’t actually be what she wanted, was it? It wasn’t like Elyse to give up so easily.
But he couldn’t sit back and let the blood oath win. Letting Elyse turn herself in—that wasn’t an option.
“I don’t know that I can do that,” Killian rasped, shaking his head and looking away. He still didn’t know Elyse’s story, and it would have to be a damn good explanation. Yet deep in his chest, in every muscle and bone, he knew that she didn’t deserve to die.
“I know you can’t,” his mother said, smiling weakly. “So you’ll have to find a way to break this oath.”
Killian nodded as his thoughts traveled. He hadn’t looked into breaking the oath. Until yesterday, he’d been more concerned with ensuring Elyse had no way of worming out of it. But if anyone could find a way, it was her.
“If I’ve learned anything from raising you for nine and twenty years,” Mrs. Southwick said, beaming, “it’s that you, Killian, can do anything.”
“I think you overestimate me, Mum,” he said, though a smile tugged at his lips.
“I think you underestimate yourself,” she chided. “You were the youngest lieutenant in the history of the Guard. You solved the king’s murder. And,” she said, cupping his cheek in her hands, “you have grown so much. You inspire me with your strength.”
Killian’s heart lifted ever so slightly as he leaned into her warm touch. Maybe he was still a boy, yearning for his mother to tell him everything would be okay. And for a moment, he believed it would.
