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“I need her to see the woman you have become.”
If he had taken a knife and rammed it into my chest, it could not have hurt more.
“Spoiled, selfish, and unkind. Cruel and arrogant.”
“Stop!” My gaze dropped to the floor. I couldn’t bear to look at my poor mother. It was as if she was watching me, disappointed, sad.
My father shook his head as he stared at the painting of my birth. “She always said you were an angel sent to us by God.”
The first tear almost made its way down my cheek, but I bit hard on my lip to stop it. The metallic flavor of blood entered my mouth.
“That beard you made fun of,” he said and turned to throw me a cold and detached look. “It is a sign of mourning in the North. Alrick has lost his father and mother. The war has taken everything from him.”
My hand rose to my neck. “Had I known that, I wouldn’t have—”
“And the others you insulted, people you know little about. People you judge by looks and clothes. Is that all there is to you now? This match would have saved thousands of lives, and you had the freedom to choose as you pleased.”
I bit my lip harder but then gathered my strength to look at my father. It hurt that he thought so little of me. But then, he had not thought anything of me for years, had pushed me aside like a used toy he’d grown tired of.
“If that is what you want to think of me.”
“Think of you?” His voice was strong and fierce. Who knew how far it traveled or how many could hear it. “That is what you demonstrated tonight. To me, our guests, and the whole world. But most of all, to yourself. I have never felt this ashamed before. But the way you ridiculed our guests...The arrogance and pride! I should give your hand to the first man who walks through the palace gate, beggar or prince.”
“You don’t mean that!” I countered, more in fear than anything.
It was my father who looked away now, his gaze falling to the floor. He shook his head again in disbelief and frustration. Then he turned to a picture of my mother. She smiled warmly down at her pregnant belly, cupping it in both hands.
“Look at our daughter, my love. I hope you can still rest in peace...now that you have seen what she’s become.”
He lingered for a moment longer, then he walked straight past me, only stopping briefly to place one of the candleholders next to my feet.
The heavy iron lock slammed shut once more. I was completely alone.
I couldn’t say how long I stood there in shock, but when I finally found the courage to look at my mother again, sadness, hatred, and shame overcame me. Hatred for myself, my life, the world, and all the forces out there that had the power to spare my mother but decided to take her anyway. Shame for how I had acted tonight. And sadness that she had to see me this way. But there was also this immense sorrow, a stinging pain in my chest that I was all too familiar with. Loneliness. Emptiness. The wish to never feel again.
I knew the price for my freedom would be high. But by God, I didn’t think it would be the little bit of happiness I had left: the memory of my mother.
The bit of happiness that I had managed to hide deep down inside my lonely heart for all these years—too far away for anyone to take. And now, it had been taken anyway.
I truly had become the Night Queen. Or maybe I had already been her for longer than I wanted to admit.
“I’m sorry you have to see me this way, Mother. But now that you have, I know even you, wherever you are, couldn’t possibly love me anymore.”
