Caliane
“I’ve come to poison you, my dearest Mother,” I say from the threshold, carrying the tray in front of me like an offering. “Sit up and eat. Everything’s seasoned nicely with cowbane just for you.”
Sarah muffles a gasp of shock behind me, and Magnar snorts in amusement. Idrina grumbles something intelligible under her breath, but she sits up in her chaise longue.
“Have you found my brooch?”
“I’m looking.” I place the tray in her lap and put the fork in her hand for good measure. “You must eat it all or the poison won’t work. Eat a few bites, you’ll get explosive diarrhea. Eat everything—you’ll blissfully rest in peace.”
“Very funny.”
Idrina jabs the fork into her mashed potatoes and chews a mouthful. Once she swallows, she levels me with an accusatory glower.
“This is barely tepid!”
“It would have been warm if you ate it the first time. Sarah, take a few hours off until evening, will you? I’ll sit with Mother.”
“Mother.” Idrina huffs with derision but pierces a piece of meat with her fork. Magnar sits down nearby, picking up a book from a stack on the table. Idrina throws him an angry look.
“And you, son? Have you found your dead father’s remains yet?”
“It would help if you told us who else knew about those jewels,” Magnar says with a sigh. “I, for one, did not. You never wore them in front of me.”
Idrina swallows another bite, and I relax, seeing her appetite is back. I tell myself to remember that the next time my mother-in-law refuses to eat, I should tell her the food is poisoned, and she’ll shovel it in her mouth without abandon. Oh, mad Agnidari. I wouldn’t have them—and her—any other way.
“Yes, and I never let you in our bedchamber when we fucked,” Idrina says, making me choke on a breath. “Some things are between a wife and her husband, whether he’s dead or alive.”
“If you put it that way, I admit I’d rather remain ignorant,” Magnar says, nodding. “But you haven’t answered my question. Does anyone you’ve seen in the last few months know about those jewels? Think hard. I know your memory is just fine.”
Idrina huffs in annoyance. “No one even visits me here! Who was I supposed to tell? You, your clawless wife, your knights, or the nurse? You’re the only ones who could have reached in the treasure box anyway. Look for yourself.”
She points at a shelf high up under the ceiling. A small ladder stands underneath, and I understand Idrina must have used it to reach the box. She’s shrunk in old age, though she remains taller than me when she stands.
As if hearing my thoughts, my mother-in-law cackles. “Well, apart from your wife. She’s too short to reach. See? Youdid good, after all—picking a weak tiny wife who won’t steal anything valuable. Well done.”
I snort with helpless laughter, and Magnar rolls his eyes, his fangs peeking between his lush lips. “Everything in this keep belongs to her, though. She can’t steal it, it’s hers.”
“Not my brooch.”
We sit with Idrina until she cleans her plate, learning no new clues about the possible thieves. Magnar requests his mother’s permission to check the box and the shelves around it, but he comes up empty. We leave together after ringing for a servant to get the tray, and go to join the kids outside while Idrina naps. It’s a gloriously sunny day, and the gardens are beautiful, though the northern wind blows in the chill of autumn.
We visit Raduna’s greenhouse, not the one where he took me yesterday, and eat fruit straight from the trees. I keep thinking about the missing brooch. If I didn’t turn every pillow and cushion in Idrina’s rooms myself, I’d be convinced she lost it.
Alas, that’s not what must have happened.
“Mommy, why are you worried?” Nisha asks, climbing into my lap when I sit on a bench by a blooming shrub surrounded by butterflies.
“Oh.” I smile, smoothing her hair that got ruffled from running outside. “It’s just that we can’t find Grandma’s brooch. You probably haven’t seen it before—it’s silver, and Grandma misses it a lot. I’ve been looking for it, but no luck so far. She can’t sleep and doesn’t want to eat, and I’m afraid she’ll fall ill if this goes on. But don’t worry. We’ll find it and make Grandma better.”
Nisha follows a brilliant purple butterfly with her gaze, looking thoughtful. For a girl of four, she’s extremely well-spoken and intelligent. She started speaking at the age of almost three, instantly in complete sentences and in both languages, mine and Agnidari.
“Mom, if someone told you a secret, is it all right to tell others if keeping the secret is hurting somebody?” she asks seriously, turning the gaze of her silver eyes on me.
I startle, a cold shiver crawling down my back. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, and it takes me a moment to realize what it is.
“It’s our little secret, my prize.”
I clear my throat, willing the sudden chill to go away, but of course, it can’t be shoved aside so easily. Once the memories come, they need to pass. Pushing them away only makes them stick.
