AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“With each reprimand of his character, you sully my memories of him,” I explained, gazing at the intricate cornicing just behind mother’s shoulder. I couldn’t quite meet her gaze but damn if I would glance down at the tiles like a coward. “You twist and turn andmanipulatethe memories of my father until I barely remember him for who he was. We can both agree that he was a shitty—crappy—mate, but he was a good father. And I won’t have another derogatory word from you. Irefuse.”
“Olympia.” I had never seen mother’s eyes quite so wide. “How could you say these things? You know how he disrespected our marriage—”
“I know, mother,” I said, feeling my lips tighten. “Unfortunately, I do, and my heart bleeds for you. It truly does.”
I reached for her hand, and she reluctantly placed her palm against my own. “My father’s sins were made clear to me from a very young age, and I hated him for it, because it turned my life upside down and took away my best friend.”
I swallowed thickly. “But by blaming him for everything, you absolve yourself of guilt, when we both know it’s not true. There was areason whyhe did what he did… Why he sought love and affection elsewhere.”
Mother snatched her fingers away as though I’d singed them with my words.
“How dare you!” Her eyes flit to Cryssa, who had stepped away from our sparring words. Guilt suffused me instantly. It was wrong to involve Cryssa in this. Although she would be a part of our family soon, these were words better suited to private moments between mother and me.
“You taught me to be impartial, mother,” I said on a large exhale, swallowing hard over a surge of misplaced guilt. “I’m sorry that my wishes infuriate you, but I ask that you respect it tonight. We will not speak of father.”
A light rap sounded from the locked double doors, and all of us turned towards it as though expecting some reprieve.
“It is almost time, Your Majesty, Your Highness.” Carver’s voice was muffled.
I glanced over at mother’s bewildered expression, her brows knotted as though faced with a great conundrum. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up.”
“We are not done discussing this, Olympia,” mother said bitterly, crossing her arms.
“I understand,” I said, nodding in agreement. “Perhaps we should speak a little more calmly over a drink later tonight?”
Mother stared at me as though I’d grown another head—and perhaps a physical mutation wouldn’t have surprised mother more than my dictate for tonight.
I turned to the vanity to begin undoing my braids, and heard her heels click on the tiles. She wrenched the doors open with unnecessary force, startling Carver who had most likely been bent at the waist, listening intently to our conversation through the keyhole.
Cryssa ensured the doors were locked again.
“How are you so calm?” she queried, perching on the edge of my bed. A perfectly coiled curl had escaped the jeweled clip at the back of her neck, caressing her cheek as she spoke.
“I don’t know,” I murmured, unclipping the string of gold from my neck and placing it neatly on the vanity. “I’m quaking on the inside.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re quaking, dearest,” Cryssa noted shrewdly, meeting my gaze in the vanity mirror. Her brows rose in question, keen as always.
“Perhaps because I’ve practiced this speech a thousand times in my head,” I admitted. “It gives me no pleasure to tell my own mother off, I assure you.”
“I’m proud of you. Your mother needed to hear that,” Cryssa whispered, leaning forward. “And besides, it’s all right to take a little pleasure in asserting your rights.”
The guilt was beginning to scrape at me like edges of rusty nails.
“How so?”
“You’re human, after all,” Cryssa surmised with a lift of a shoulder. “Your mother has been belittling your father for over a decade—and he was a man you loved dearly. Truthfully, I expected an outburst a long time ago, but you handled her dressing down rather eloquently, with aplomb and grace.”
Uncertainty remained, churning in my stomach like acid. I ran the comb through my curls, picking out the knots with a quick, firm hand.
“She’ll come around, you know,” Cryssa continued, leaning forward to ring the service bell. At once, two maids entered the suite—one with a basket of hair products, and the other holding an impossibly small bustier with flowing emerald pants.
I stood, pulling the simple tunic over my head, baring my chest. Cryssa’s gaze traveled over my bare shoulders and collarbones. The scent ofinterestedomega was unmistakable.
“Why do you think that?” I queried.
“Just a hunch,” Cryssa replied with a shrug. “You forget that your mother prizesstrengthabove all else, and putting your foot down so thoroughly was indeed a show of remarkable strength. I bet a part of her is secretly thrilled that you’re asserting yourself in ways she deems worthy.”
I stared at my potential mate as the bustier wound around my waist, cinching impossibly tight. The cups were made of soft silk, with padding that boosted my assets higher than I’d ever seen them. The bodice was a fine, glittering mesh that struck the light beautifully as I moved.
