Page 107 of The Faceless Queen

My chest tightened, sweat beading at the nape of my neck as the Azete stirred, fully awake, and ready to feed. To devour.

I was so close to empty, and the thing inside of me knew it. Before my mind had any chance of catching up to the instinct inside me, I was gripping her in return, holding onto her like a child. Like I needed my mother.

I did need my mother.

But that wasn’t what was happening.

This wasn’t a daughter’s hold. It was vice-like. It was that of a predator who caught its prey.

The exhaustion I felt all morning began to fade, and a feeling of strength and fresh energy burst inside of me. I stood up straighter, the dizziness finally washing away.

“My daughter,” she whispered in my ear. Her voice shook. “My beautiful daughter.”

“Mom,” I said, my voice raspy. The voice of the Azete feeding.

Then, and only then, the Hermit coughed. Loudly.

“As beautiful as this display is,” he said, inching toward us, “and as much as I love the topic of love, we are on a very tight schedule this morning. The streets of Eskalon in demand of a parade will wait for no prince.”

King Dairen harumphed. “No. But King Tirian may discover for once that waiting, on occasion, helps to build one’s royal qualities.”

“Only a king would know. Your Majesty, has waiting ever improved upon your qualities?” Lord Brandon asked.

“Well, no,” King Dairen admitted. “But,” he said with a wink, “The realm knows I already have so many.”

Everyone in the hall burst into laughter.

“Come,” Lord Brandon said. He took Queen Noemay’s hand, placing it over his arm. “Let me escort the beautiful Queen of Spartva to breakfast, and King Dairen, you shall escort the beautiful princess, lest the hearts in her eyes cause her to stumble.”

It was truly a mark of the Hermit’s skill that he was actually ordering the king and queen around when he was allegedly nothing more than an ambassador. But I was grateful. The focus had moved away from me and so had any lingering suspicions.

I quickly took the King’s arm, trying to breathe as normally as possible. To let the Azete settle back down. And to forget what they’d said, forget that they’d noted that I seemed different. They assumed it was an attraction growing between Olivay and Brennan. The early stirrings of lust and love.

They weren’t wrong. Something just like that was happening between us, faster and more intensely than I’d ever meant for it to. But they had no idea just how different I was from their daughter. How different the look of lust and love would have appeared if Olivay hadn’t been taken.

We entered a new hall, and then suddenly, the Queen’s knees gave out. She stumbled forward with a surprised cry.

I froze, fear wrapping around my heart. And guilt. So much guilt. I kept doing this to her. I kept hurting her. And she didn’t deserve any of it.

Something I’d buried deep inside me rose to the surface. Memories of my mother staying away from me, pretending she had a meeting that went too long, or spending the night in another witch’s home so she might see the true needs of her people. It had been to get away from me. Because she couldn’t hold herself back around me, she couldn’t stop loving me, or hugging me, and refused to stop holding me even when she knew better. Sometimes I just made her so weak that she had no choice but to leave me. When I figured it out, I tried to limit our touches, to keep our interactions neutral, to not drain her. She never complained, not once. But the truth was I’d been killing her for a long, long time before the chimera ever appeared.

Lord Brandon was already holding onto Queen Noemay’s arm. He had caught her with ease, thank the Gods. Quickly, he helped her to stand upright. She hadn’t fallen, not like last time. But this was bad. How many times could she stumble after touching me before everyone noticed?

King Dairen stepped forward, dragging me with him. “Perhaps my queen,” he said jovially, “is the one with hearts in her eyes.”

Queen Noemay turned to face us, still looking shaken, her face pale, almost as light as mine had been this morning. Her eyes fell on me, and for one moment, her face changed, like she knew, like she’d finally seen what any mother would have, I was not her daughter. But she was too tired and too weak to truly entertain the thought. I could see the moment she shook it off. One hand had rushed to her heart, and she laughed at her husband’s comments. “When you are concerned, my love, there are always hearts in my eyes.”

But as she turned back, it was obvious she was leaning on Lord Brandon far more than was natural. His arm wrapped tightly around her, and as we continued to the end of the hall, it became clear he was setting an unusually slow and careful pace.

“Nice and slow,” he said, his voice taking on its pompous noble tone. “For I like to think we are all a little in love this morning, and perhaps, though some of us are not royal, patience is a quality that shall improve us.”

My heart sank as I watched Queen Noemay’s every labored step. I couldn’t relax. The slow pace was agonizing, because it just prolonged the length of time for her to reach a chair and sit. She needed to rest, and she needed to recover, and I had to find a way to stay as far away from her as I could.

“She’s never been this clumsy before,” King Dairen said, his voice low.

“I don’t think Eskalon’s weather agrees with my mother,” I said.

He frowned. “Perhaps. She is also anxious at being away from you. This is new for her, too.”