Page 196 of Dark Night of the Soul

I looked past her at my mother.

Natasha—because that was the name the Knights had given her after the alteration—sat on the bench with her hands folded in her lap. Her dark hair was tied at the nape of her neck, and she was staring out at the river like she could see something none of us could.

“Is she—” I halted, not sure how to ask.

The alteration had scrambled her sense of self. It had only been in the last few months that pieces of her had started to return.

“She’s fairly lucid,” Ophelia said, glancing at her. “She’s been asking about you.”

A lump formed in my throat, tight and thick. “And Grace?”

“She knew this wasn’t about her,” Ophelia said softly.

I nodded.

“Are you… all right?” Ophelia asked.

My gaze landed on her blue one. “I’m better. I’ll tell you everything when I can.”

She nodded and squeezed my hand once, then stepped away.

I walked to the bench and sat beside my mother. Her gaze drifted from the distance to me. Violet eyes. Like mine. A faint smile flickered across her face. Recognition in her gaze. She knew me.

“There’s my girl.”

Her voice was soft. She reached for my hand and held it in hers. It was cold, but her skin was smooth.

“Hi, Mom.” My voice wobbled. It was the first time I’d called her that. The word felt strange. Foreign. Right. “I’m glad you came.”

“The man with the eyepatch,” she started, then paused.

“Silas,” I supplied.

“Yes. Silas.” She nodded, like she was placing him in a drawer in her mind. “He’s been at the manor. Did you know?”

“Yes,” I said. “He’s making it safer for all of us.”

“Grace likes him,” she said.

“Grace likes everyone,” I said, and the smile that came with it surprised me.

Grace was Southern charm wrapped in warmth, manners, and a glass of sweet iced tea. She’d never been unkind to anyone. People tended to bend to her will without realizing it the moment they heard the soft lilt of her Texas accent.

“We’ve missed you,” my mother said. “When are you coming home?”

“Soon,” I promised.

Now that she was here, all the questions I’d carried for months fled my mind. It was enough to sit beside her and breathe. This. Her presence.

My mother’s gaze shifted to where Kincade stood. Then she leaned back slightly, still holding my hand.

“He stayed,” she said, like it surprised her.

I glanced his way. Arms crossed. Eyes scanning everything and everyone but us. Watching for the thing that would try.

Ludwig passed by in front of us on the path, then cut in front of the trees like he belonged there. Never looking our way. Ulrich was somewhere nearby. I didn’t see him. That meant he was doing his job.

“He did,” I said.