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Chapter 13
Now
From where I lay on my bed, I could hear the ruffle of skirts on the floor every so often. They’d draw near, pace, and retreat.
My mother. What I hadn’t determined was whether she was more upset at what she learned or the explosive manner in which she learned it. I sat up to run to the door half a dozen times, each time falling back, knowing I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes. I knew that the pain I saw there would break me as it had so many times before.
I had never considered how I’d spend my last full day alive. Fuming with rage while I laid on a mattress worth more than our Inkwell home was not what I would have pictured. For some reason, the thought of tomorrow was no longer turning my stomach. Was this what it was like to accept one’s own mortality? Or had I simply resigned myself to the fact that I was going to fight to the death tomorrow, dragging as many Saints damned Board members to the purgatory with me? It had been awhile since I had seriously considered my own death.
The whisper of skirts on the floor in the hall returned. They paused, and then–
A knock.
I rose, hesitating as I walked to the door, knowing that the chances of me making it through this conversation without breaking were slim.
And there she was. Small, elegant. No trace of a past life of poverty, struggle, or grief. Her life had changed dramatically, and I realized that once the wedding happened, she and I rarely had time to spend together. She had filled out as much as I had, dining on the finest imported pastries and gourmet meats. Her sallow face had color like I’d never seen, her blue eyes bright once again. She wasbeautiful.
And I may have hated her for it.
I wordlessly ushered her through the door, leading her to the powder blue velvet chairs in the drawing room. We faced each other, neither taking the initiative to look the other in the eyes.
“He’s sorry,” she said, her voice low.
I raised an eyebrow, finally meeting her stare. “Excuse me?”
“He’s sorry, Petra.”
I took a deep breath, my knuckles going white on the arms of the chair. A wave of grief hit me then. Was I grieving the loss of the Castemont I thought I knew? “You came to my quarters the day before I am to die to tell mehe’s sorry?”She flinched at my harsh tone, and I almost did too.
“He’s been under a lot of stress and–”
“And what?” I cut her off, leaning forward in my chair. “And that explains why he couldn’t tell me, tellyouwhat I’d be facing tomorrow? Why he is offering his step-daughter, the only remaining child of the woman he loves to a team of fucking butchers?”
“He is under sacred oath and–”
“No. You don’t get to speak right now, Ma. You lost that privilege when you walked in here toapologize for him.”I had never spoken to my mother in this way, not even when I was the sole provider, or when her helplessness drove me so crazy I wanted to scream in her face. The imbalance of power was almost welcomed. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he couldn’t come apologize to me himself, or the fact that your first words to me were abouthim.”This man had gone from our savior to my destruction. “He watched me struggle, knew I had no knowledge of Initiation and the traditions and expectations, and hestillchose to stay quiet, to let me suffer through this. He saw how Ludovicus spoke to me. He saw how I broke after the interview. And hestillchose to stay quiet. Not so much as a ‘keep an eye out for Ludovicus’ or ‘they’re going to try to rile you up, don’t let them.’ Who would have known if he had helped me? How would anyone find out?” Tears streamed down my face now, the anger flooding my chest like a high tide rushing in. “This is not my story, this is not my choice, and this is not my happily ever after. I have gone through thisalone,and I’ve gone through it foryou,so that you can liveyourhappily ever after. And the only reason I even know what to expect is because of the fucking rumors that a handmaiden has heard.”
“Who was it, Petra?” she asked quietly.
“Why does it matter?” I shot back.
“The rites are sacred and to be known by only those who have completed Initiation.”
I scoffed. “Give me a fucking break, Ma. Pull your head out of Castemont’s ass.” She flinched, her mouth dropping open. “It wasn’t so long ago that we were fighting for our survival together. Oh, wait,” I seethed, venom dripping from every word, “Ifought for our survival. You let the grief destroy you. I didn’t have that luxury. Not until I had secured our survivalbymyself.” She sat back, closing her jaw, her face plastered with infuriating innocence, as if she had no idea of the sacrifices I had made. I hated that she looked so well, her skin supple, her bodice fitted.
“Solise helped,” she breathed.
My vision turned red. “Are you saying that her help invalidates all I did? She was more of a mother to me in those years than you were!”
I saw her jaw work as she contemplated her next words. “That mouth is going to get you killed.”
My mouth fell agape. It was so insensitive, so unlike her. “What’s going to get me killed, Ma, is your husband’s decision to keep me in the dark.”
“He has clothed you, fed you, made sure you had–”
“What about the years that I clothed you? That I fed you? That you were too despondent to care whether we lived or died or even had a roof to live or die under?” Her jaw stayed set as my pitch turned into a scream. “You’re forgetting that the whole reason you met him is because ofme!Because of the things I had to do to ensure our survival. And now he expects me to die for a Saints damned tradition and you’re going to go along with it? What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She stood abruptly, my words still echoing off the marble floors. “I should have listened to Solise, should have trusted her word. What happened to ‘I can’t lose you?’ What happened to your tears at breakfast, begging me to try, begging me to put in the effort? If I’d have known what it entailed, what would happen, I could havetried. I could have put effort into things thatmattered.” She swiftly rose and began walking to the door. “That’s your husband, Ma, but I’m your daughter. Remember that.”
“He was under a sacred oath,” she whispered, as if the justification was enough for her. She threw herself through the door, latching it behind her.
