Page 12 of Tale of the Heart Queen

“I had nothing to do with that,” I say, feeling the desire to defend myself. “That was hundreds of years before I was born.”

Linden takes a step towards me, and I scuttle back. I could pretend I’m not afraid of her, but I’m ready to fold like a cheap paper fan. Meanwhile, she looks prepared to tip me into a pot and then enjoy me with a nice glass of wine. Or maybe a goblet sloshing with my blood, her chin dripping with my soul.

“Your entire family is responsible,” she hisses. “She tricked him. Used him. And then destroyed him.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I don’t know what to say. That might all be true. It might not be. Everyone accuses my grandmother for what happened, but how much of a role did Wolf play in their downfall? It’s curious that everyone blames her.

“I’m sorry,” I say because I am sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened. That I never had the chance to know them. That we spent our lives in hiding. I’m sorry for every single day and every person Serce hurt, even if I wasn’t directly responsible for any of it.

“Linden,” Cyan says, interrupting our tense exchange. “You can’t blame the girl for Serce’s mistakes.”

“I can,” Linden says, whipping around to face him. “I will.”

Cyan presses his mouth together as his nose flares. “Come and sit,” he says, patting the table next to him. “Have something to drink.”

Linden grunts but drops into the seat next to him. Holding an ornate crystal decanter, Anemone leans across and fills a glass that she hands to Linden. Linden then drains the entire thing before slamming the glass on the table hard enough to nearly crack it.

The table, I mean. The glass is toast.

“Another,” she barks as she grabs a new glass, and Anemone fills this one too. Cyan takes Linden’s hand and squeezes it before he flips it over and places a soft kiss on her palm. No one else blinks at the intimate gesture between the king and his army commander.

After Linden destroys another stiff drink, everyone’s gaze falls on me. I swallow as the silence stretches awkwardly. I wasn’t expecting the red carpet upon my arrival, but I also wasn’t prepared to be accused of a litany of crimes I never committed.

I remember when I voiced these fears to Nadir and he said no one would hold me accountable for what my grandmother had done. I’m not happy to prove him wrong. I should probably get used to this, though perhaps Linden has more right to feel this way than most.

Anemone rises from her place on Cyan’s lap and moves to the chair on his other side. Not wanting to be anywhere near Linden, who’s still staring at me like she’s trying to decide which part of me to stab first, I move around the table to take the empty seat next to Anemone.

Cyan sits back and regards me with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “A wise choice.”

He gestures around the table. “You’ve met Linden. Please let me introduce you to Anemone.”

“Hi,” I say, already preferring her over my great aunt.

“Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself,” Cyan says. “Lor, is it?”

“How do you know that?” I ask.

He leans forward and clasps his large hands on the table. “Do you think you’ve been moving through Ouranos undetected? Rumors have been spreading.”

“What rumors?”

He shrugs a broad shoulder. “Atlas stole you from Nostraza, where you’ve lived for most of your life. And Rion wants you for some reason I’m still trying to puzzle out.”

“How do you know all that?” I ask. “When we were in The Woodlands, Cedar had no idea what had become of us.”

Linden slams a hand on the table, making me jump.

“Do not speak my family’s name,” she growls. “My brother did not allow you into his home!”

My indignation flares, and I lean towards her, baring my teeth. “Yes. He did. He welcomed us into his home and let us eat his food and sleep in his beds. He invited us to attend the Winter Ball.” I pause, wanting these next words to sting. “He let me hold the Woodlands Staff.”

Linden hisses like a venomous snake twisting around my ankles. “Liar.”

I roll my eyes. “Why would I lie about that?”

“You must have some angle.” Linden stops and then glares. “What did you do with it? Why would he let you touch it?”

“Because it’s my family, too,” I say. “And I asked nicely.”