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“Still in there?” I ask jokingly, even though my chest always feels like it’s being ripped apart from anxiety anytime he checks for the baby’s heartbeat.
“Still in there,” he says, and I run my fingers through his already tousled hair.
Just then, the tent flap opens and Blaise rushes in. I gasp, grabbing for my blanket to cover my belly, but it’s too late.
“Oh.” Blaise stares at my belly, as if to make out how it appeared like this in the hour since she’d last seen me. Her gaze darts toward the parka hanging on the clothesline, and she nods, almost as if to herself.
“That explains the extra heartbeat,” she says, turning to me and Evander.
And then she plasters the most devastatingly convincing smile on her face.
“I’m so happy for the two of you,” she says.
And then Blaise disappears into the night.
CHAPTER 27
ASHA
It’s an hour until we’re to depart for the night, and I’m rubbing sleep from my eyes as I stretch my legs.
“I killed her,” says a voice from behind me.
I turn to find Lydia, violet eyes staring longingly into the field of tulips that stretches out before us. Their soft petals sway in the wind, as if to a melody unheard by our ears. I remember Lydia once saying that her mother planted tulips in the Naenden palace garden. Her father had uprooted them to make room for the statue of Tionis. Lydia had replanted a section of tulips elsewhere in the garden.
“Your mother,” I say, partially because I’ve suspected as much for a long while now. Partially because I want to give Lydia the freedom that comes with someone knowing your secret, without having to speak it into truth yourself. “I’m sorry,” I add.
Lydia’s face remains impassive, though I sense the slightest quaver in her voice. “You say it as if it were a misfortune that happened to me, one I had no control over.”
“You loved your mother. You still do. That much is obvious,” I say. “I imagine she knew that.”
“She’s the one who told me to do it, though my father would have commanded me even if she hadn’t. I think she wanted one last thing to hold for herself, one last bit of agency.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she wanted to make sure you knew she understood. Maybe she didn’t want you to blame yourself.”
Lydia looks me over, though her eyes for once appear too tired to assess much of anything. “Maybe,” she says contemplatively before turning back to the field of tulips.
“My father was a paranoid male,” she continues. “He wanted to punish my mother because he believed she’d had an affair. He cited Fin’s lack of magic as evidence of as much.”
“He knew Kiran and Fin were illegitimate?” I ask, slightly shocked. As much as Kiran hated his father, his father was obsessed with him. Obsessed with molding him into the perfect tyrant, the perfect heir to his throne.
Lydia shakes her head, her braid wavering. “No. Well, he believed Fin to be illegitimate, but he refused to acknowledge Kiran, his heir, could be any male’s but his.”
I must have shown my judgment on my face, because Lydia gives a wry laugh. “There has been at least one occasion recorded in which a fae female was impregnated by two males. Twins with different fathers. I know you’re thinking this is unlikely, which would make you a reasonable person. My father was not a reasonable person.”
“You’ve known for this long that the twins had a different father from you, yet you never said anything,” I say.
Lydia shrugs. “It would have only served to hurt them.”
“You mean it would have hurt Kiran,” I say. “Would have meant he never received the throne.”
Lydia shuffles as if uncomfortable.
“I thought you believed Kiran was a dreadful ruler.”
“I did. Do still, sometimes. But I suppose I hoped better for him. And as much as I hated what he had become, what my father had shaped him into…”
She pauses, and for the first time, Lydia actually looks uncertain. “Well, for one, I was truly my father’s daughter. His blood, his evil, runs in my veins, not Kiran’s. And Kiran… I can only imagine how much better off he’d have been if he’d had our mother’s influence to guide him, even just a little while longer.”
