“He said you’d had your ration today, but you need your strength if we’re going to continue tonight. Marie dug up some honey for a cup of tea.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew three small, lumpy parcels of linen, dropping them onto the table. “And Jack’s been foraging.”
Adeline’s “thank you”caught in her throat, all her reserves apparently occupied with the whirring of her mind. She was distantly aware of Mareda thanking Imogen for them both, then easing to her feet and ushering Imogen into her seat. Aware of her sister slipping into the bedroom, something about getting changed into her bedrobe. Adeline barely heard her. She did hear the door click shut behind her, or maybe that click was in her own mind, the pieces slotting together.
“Daughters,” she said aloud.
“Adeline,” Imogen said, a low note of warning.
Adeline felt her gaze slide to her friend; heard herself say again, “Oh, all the fuckingdaughters.”
“Keep your voice down,” Imogen ground out, eyes flicking to the bedroom door.
Adeline did her best to whisper. “I’m such anidiot.”
Was she really so self-involved? How had she never known, never evenguessed—
But Imogen was shaking her head. All that brisk, terse energy physically seeped away, the proud set of her shoulders slumping.
“You’re not. She didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why?”
Imogen raised her fine brows—not without effort, it seemed—and leaned back in her seat, gesturing from the glossy spirals of her curls, to the elaborate detailing of her lace bodice, to the graceful sweep of her skirt.
“Goddess only knows,” she quipped.
But when Adeline was just a little too slow to smile, Imogen sighed, dropping her gaze. She fidgeted with the handle of themug, and it struck Adeline that she had never seen her so self-conscious before—or atall, really. She took a sip of her broth, painted lips pursing tidily on the rim. Not even the slightest smudge when she set the mug down.
“She didn’t want the scrutiny,” Imogen said slowly, stiffly, as though it hurt to say it aloud. “The derision that your mother always faced for how she conducted herself. Romantically.”
Adeline felt her eyes bulge a little at the suggestion, tried to blink it away. It was true.Snow Queen, people had whispered,not enough warmth in her heart to spare.They’d called her other things, too.Power hungry, selfish, cold, unfeeling—and worse. Things nobody wanted to hear or think about their own mother, no matter how tense their relationship might be.
“And that was why you stopped speaking,” Adeline guessed.
“We stopped speaking because I grew tired of being a secret,” said Imogen. “I am not someone to be hidden away.”
“No,” Adeline agreed, and for a moment, Imogen’s smile returned. “So Marry’s been in love this whole time.”
The smile dropped. “She might have been, once.”
“Marry doesn’t change her mind.”
Something flickered over Imogen’s face, too quick to catch. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Are you in love withher?”
Imogen’s breath caught visibly, an answer clearly swelling in her lungs like a reflex. Adeline thought she knew the answer; she certainly knew the hesitant, pained response to it. Recognised it all too well. It almost made her feel guilty for asking, but Imogenjust gave a slight tic of her head and lifted her mug again, another long sip.
“It’s not going to matter either way,” she said, a little quieter than usual. “Unless something changes for us all. If you want to talk aboutlove, Ade, let’s talk about your Merrow King.”
Her heart contracted. She had been very carefullynotthinking about Kai, as far as she could manage it, because to do so was to fall to pieces. And she could not afford to fall to pieces right now, not if she wanted to free him and everyone else.But the pressure in her chest was constant, a weight that grew with each passing day that she could not lay eyes on him. She only knew he was alive because Imogen was still preparing the wedding, only knew he was being fed because Ger had been returning from the kitchens every day with assurances from Jack. But she didn’t know if he was well. If he was coping.
No one could tell her that.
“What about him?” she asked.
Her throat was tight, her heart pounding.
“I think I can get you a moment alone with him,” said Imogen, a touch too grim to be comforting. “Before … Well.”
