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“All I’m saying is—”
The warning in his mother’s expression kept him from finishing.
“What can I do to help, Mama?”
Fransiska softened. “Nothing, dear. Nothing until this evening, when we start the prep. You’re right, anyway. We’ve done more than enough. We will either thrive or fail tomorrow. It’s up to the Guardians which side we fall on.”
Tyr had little love for the Guardians, after the years he’d spent toiling in the dungeon of the Reliquary, the center of spirituality in the realm. Telling his mother that, though, was a surefire way to send her over the edge. “I’ll see if Evert needs any help in the back.”
“Oh!” Fransiska shook a hand at him. She had the other wrapped around her torso. “Did you ever find your papers, love?”
Tyr shook his head. He’d managed to go almost an hour without thinking of his failure.
“Have you asked Addy?”
“Addy?”
“I saw her this morning with a stack. When she saw me, she tucked them inside her dress, which was odd, but...” She exhaled with a short laugh. “We know our Addy, don’t we? Could be anything.”
He hadn’t asked his little sister because he trusted her. She’d never take anything from him, especially not something so important. But shoving papers into her dress made little sense either, because everyone already knew she was learning to translate.
“Did you... Did you invite your little friend tomorrow?”
Tyr looked up. “Nessa? I invited her tonight, actually. To help with our prep.”
“Hmm.” Fransiska turned away with a distant look. “All right then. Lovely.”
Tyr shook his head, laughing. “I know you, Mother. You clearly have thoughts you’re not sharing.”
“No, no.” She blinked in unconvincing denial. “It’s really none of my business, dear.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve never let that stop you before.”
“I don’t know, Tyreste,” she said, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just don’t see you brighten around her. She’s perfectly nice, but I’m not sure she lights the spark you have inside of you.”
“Lights the spark?” Tyr’s brows shot upward in amusement. “Really?”
“Oh, bah.” Fransiska swatted a hand at him and half turned, facing the front windows. “I know I was...criticalof Anastazja... but she inspired something in you I hadn’t seen since you were a boy.”
“More than critical, Mother. You said she was, and I quote,dipping her gold slippers into the pigpenby spending time with me.”
“Well, what of it? Was I wrong? She left you, in the end.”
“Yes,” Tyr stated firmly. Heat flooded his cheeks. “Yes, she did leave me. And yetNessais here. Other than being highborn, she’s the opposite of Ana in almost every way, so that should make you happy.”
“Doesn’t matter ifI’mhappy, love.” Fransiska smiled sadly. “If you are, that’s all that matters.”
“I am.” He pinched his shoulders back as his defensiveness kicked in. “I’ve been with women who ‘light my spark,’ as you say, and every one of them has broken my heart. Maybe my spark belongs in a metal box, where it’s safe and can’t catch fire, burning me and everything else to the ground.”
“As you say,” Fransiska said, which was right on par withthat’s lovely.
“You think I’m wrong?”
“I think my eldest son has always been strong-willed. Always done as he wanted. I would not expect this to change now.” Fransiska pulled a rag out of her apron. “Addy is in the back, if you wanted to ask her about the papers.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, still mulling her words as he stepped through the double doors.
Addy was sitting on a stool, slicing potatoes over a large vat. Her face was flushed from exertion, her tongue wedged between her front teeth. She glanced up with a grin when he stepped closer.
