Page 118 of Ashborne Forged

The first day, my queries about the next step were met with a shooing hand and airy excuses about my welcome home feast.

The second day, she’d let me think we were progressing, urging me to join her in the office once more, and peppering me with questions regarding Grace’s upbringing and family, what I knew of the Fyrehold Court, and details on our interactions in the castle.

I was wary from the first. My mother had walked in Courtier circles since before I was born. Even if she didn’t know all the players personally, she’d already admitted she was familiar with Breckon. And had certainly visited Fyrehold more than once in her life.

I assumed she was testing me, attempting to gain purchase on how much I knew, after my threats to reveal her to the queen. So, I told her anything that anyone with access to the castle in Fyrehold would know of Grace, and held the rest back.

Mother’s eyes had grown sharp when I voiced doubt about her lack of action. But she assured me she worked, whether I saw her progress or not.

I gave her a day. Which meant another night sitting in that blasted, black bed, staring at the dying flames and listening to the groans and creaks of the house, barely sleeping.

At some point I grew so unsettled, I slipped out, into the house to search the hidden passages, servants’ stairs, and cubbies I’d historically used to sneak up on visitors, or eavesdrop on my parents. And to flee.

All still existed, though most were dusty enough to make me believe none of the servants had learned of them. And eerily, nothing in the house moved. No servants sneaking to another’s bedchamber. No shadowy visitors for my mother. Nothing.

This house, which had always been dark, though bustling with life, was now dead.

The cold, silent shadows unnerved me, but my searches of the residential wings turned up nothing. No guests. Nothing hidden in the secret spaces. Nothing.

By the third night, the only place in the house I hadn’t searched was mother’s office. And her dungeon. Neither of which I’d ever located a secret passage into, which left me only traditional routes. Unless I could find something now that had escaped my notice when I was young.

I knew she held records on every powerful Lord and Lady across the territories—most of them dusty tomes that were rarely opened. But some full of the notes gathered by her spies and agents across the continent.

There had to be something in there about Breckon. Or, perhaps even Grace’s family.

I would find them.

Yesterday, working on two hours’ sleep, and still no talk of a firm plan, my nerves had been stretched to breaking point. But on Kham’s advice, I kept it to myself to see if Mother would offer anything.

But today, after learning that there’d been no messengers to or from the house in the past forty-eight hours—Kham was watching for them—I’d decided she was intentionally dragging her feet to cause delay. An effort to keep me close, and on edge. Though one I didn’t understand, because I’d warned her this fuckwad would kill a bastard child, rather than be embarrassed by raising him. And while my mother didn’t know that Grace wasn’t truly pregnant, driven as she was to create a family legacy, I couldn’t understand why she’d take the risk.

And so, here on the fifth day since my arrival, I would not be diverted. Either she would begin moving, or I would move alone.

I sat in noble finery I suspected Mother had refashioned from my father’s clothes, which I hated, one booted foot propped on the other knee, leaning my elbow on the arm of the unnecessarily grand dining chair, and glowered at her.

She pretended not to notice.

But I would not be put off.

Still glaring, I waved the servants away as soon as they’d set the food before me.

Mother sipped her soup, and took dainty bites of the meat, that blade-edge smile on her face as she thanked Mrs. Voss for selecting such lovely meals to welcome me back, while generally ignoring my presence.

But when it came to making my mother pay, I had the capacity for great patience. And I knew her tricks. She believed I wouldn’t want to reveal my weakness by voicing far more pointed questions in front of the servants.

She was wrong.

She was halfway through her beef when I spoke.

“When do we travel?” I asked casually, letting the edge of my tone match her smile.

Her brows rose, but she finished chewing and gave a pretty, one-shouldered shrug. “We cannot move until I’ve smoothed the path. And the pieces aren’t yet in place.”

“What path?” I snapped. “Call off your lackey, tell him not to marry her. That is the path.”

“Come now, Vane. Surely you’re a man of the world enough to know that these matters aren’t that simple. Enjoy your lunch. Let us pamper you and help you refresh from your travel. My messages have been delivered. I expect to receive word within days.”

“What messages? You haven’t sent anyone out for three days.”