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Of course, when I wanted him to give a damn about me, he was distant. Now, when all I need is space, he’s constantly fussing over me.
“Your Majesty, Tara has returned. She’d like to see you,” Xiao says quietly. “Should I say you’ve gone to bed?”
“No.” I shake my head and chew my thumbnail. Tara went to inform our parents of Clare’s death. I thought I should go, but Nathan outright forbid any contact.
“If your brother-in-law was a part of the assassination attempt against me and the attempt on your life, how do we know your father wasn’t involved?” Nathan asked while we argued about it, and while the thought of my own parents attempting a hit job sounded absurd at the time, it’s pretty unbelievable that Clare would have, either.
I get up from my chair and put the kettle on one of the gas burners in case Tara wants tea. She might not be stopping in for a chat, I remind myself. Maybe I shouldn’t hand her a cup of boiling water until I know she’s not going to throw it at me. We haven’t spoken since the night of the executions, just before Nathan and I got into the royal limo. She pleaded for mercy I didn’t grant.
I’m surprised she returned at all.
She enters the kitchen a short time later, in jeans and a hoodie from traveling. Something she wouldn’t have been caught dead in unless she was exhausted.
“Tea?” I ask, gesturing to the stove.
She shakes her head. “I’m going to bed. I thought I would check in with you, first.”
I frown, puzzled. “To see if you were allowed?”
“No, to tell you what’s happening with our parents.” She’s exasperated and tired and probably could have left the briefing until morning. The fact that she didn’t suggests she has a lot to say to me.
And it’s probably not going to be great to hear.
“How are Mother and Father?” I ask, taking the kettle off the burner before I sit down across the big, industrial island from her. “Where are they, for that matter?”
“They’re in an apartment. A studio apartment. Living off money the Parks gave them.” Tara fixes me with piercing gaze. “But it’s unlikely any help will continue, now.”
It doesn’t take much to fill in the blanks. “People are afraid to have anything to do with traitors anymore.”
Tara nods and I know she’s somehow interpreted my words as a statement of regret.
They’re not. “Good. That was the point. To deter people from committing treason.”
“Have you ever considered that people might have had a good reason to go against the King?” she asks sharply.
“I can’t see there ever being a good reason to kill your pack leader.” I’m tempted to do it all the time, but I’m his mate and I have to deal with him on a daily basis. “This isn’t a conversation we should have, though.”
“Because you’ll kill me?”
“Is that what you really think of me?” I ask, but just her asking the question tells me all I need to know. “You think I would just murder you for no reason?”
“I don’t know what you’d do,” she says flatly. “I didn’t think Clare would try to kill you. I didn’t realize that was the kind of relationship we all had.”
“We don’t have that relationship,” I state firmly. “I don’t believe Clare would have gone along with any of this if she hadn’t been influenced by Julian. She knew I was going to be killed, Tara. Did she tell you about it?”
“No!” Tara’s eyes go wide with fear.
“I’m not interrogating you,” I reassure her. “I’m tired of passing sentences and uncovering plots. I don’t ever want to see what I saw the other night, ever again.”
“It must have been so hard for you,” she snaps.
I almost snap back that it was harder for me, that I did her a mercy by not seating her with the rest of the pack, where she would have had no choice but watch. But lording my power over her won’t help us in this moment. It won’t repair our trust.
“Meanwhile,” she goes on, “I’m the one who had to go to Mother and Father and tell them that the rumors they’d heard were true. That their daughter was dead. That their other daughter killed her.”
“Did you happen to mention that Clare tried to kill me first?” Are you really pulling a “she started it?” I fold my arms over my chest. “That she was part of an assassination plot engineered by her mate?”
“I did. Because they deserve the whole truth.” Her head droops, her shoulders sag. “You know, I never thought Mother liked us very much. We were never good enough—especially Clare. But if you’d heard her, the way she screamed…”
I don’t want to think about it. I haven’t had much time to process the fact that I’m currently a mother, myself, despite not having met my baby yet. But its presence has consumed me with thoughts of death, how vulnerable we all are, how protected my child is now, before it faces the world.
