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“Let me rephrase,” I said quietly. “Should my mother marry Lord Castemont? Knowing we’d move into the castle, that I’d be expected to take on the role of a nobleman’s daughter?”
His face softened with contemplation, but the muscle in his jaw still twitched. He took a deep breath. “Yes.”
I nodded, backing up. “Thank you, Tyrak,” I said as I turned to the stairs again.
“I’m sorry, Petra.” I stopped, whirling back to him, “for everything.” He stared at me, brows furrowed slightly. I gave him another nod and walked into the street.
???
The painter’s palette of the night sky spread above me as I laid in the frosted grass on the waterfront. The din of the city behind me had grown quieter as the night deepened until nothing but a low chatter hung in the air.
“Mind if I join you?” I heard a rich voice say as Castemont walked up behind me.
I sat up, surveying him. He held a glass decanter as he looked down at me. I waved my hand to the side and he lowered himself to the ground.
“Your mother isn’t much of a drinker,” he said, pulling the cork out of the decanter, the smell of some kind of dark liquor hitting me almost instantly. “I realized tonight I’ve never asked if you like to drink.” He offered me the decanter, and though I wasn’t much of a drinker and didn’t particularly like the taste of alcohol, I took it from him, taking as big of a swig as I could manage. My eyes watered and I fought back a gag, but the warmth that ran down my throat was satisfying. “Ah, your father raised a whiskey girl, huh?” he chuckled.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we’d never once been able to afford whiskey. Wine, on occasion, and only the cheap stuff that left you achy and nauseous. “Guess he did.”
“I’m truly sorry. From the bottom of my heart,” he said, his voice sincere. I knew he was. “I’m sorry he did that.”
“He didn’t do anything. He didn’t commit suicide,” I snapped back.
“I’ll never be him, Petra,” he said suddenly, tipping the bottle to take a drink for himself. “I will never replace him. I know that. Your mother knows that. And you know that.” He popped the cork back in and rested the decanter on the ground. “But I have fallen in love with your mother. And that means that I will love you, too, as long as you’ll let me.”
I turned my head away, my lips beginning to tremble. My question of why he would do this was being answered. It was love. Stupid, nonsensical, love.
Fuck.
My forearms rested on my knees, my head hanging from my shoulder. I took a deep breath and motioned for the whiskey. He popped it open and handed it to me, and I took another sip, the delicious burn returning, reddening my cheeks. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand before turning back to him. I had no idea what the future held, but that was true whether I lived in Inkwell or in the castle. Why wouldn’t I say yes to Castemont?
As soon as the burn dissipated in my throat, I spoke. “I accept.”
His eyes flew open. “What?” he whispered.
“I accept. You can marry my mother, and we will move into the castle.”
His eyes welled with tears as a smile the size of a crescent moon cracked across his face. And, despite everything, despite my
unanswered questions and unresolved pain, I couldn’t help but smile back at him, at the man who was ecstatic to give us a new life.
