He waves his arm out in a bow. “I’m sorry, my queen. My lady fair. My serene ruler. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you pain. It’s nothing you haven’t done to me, if it’s any comfort.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t—”
“Oh, youhaven’t?” Mather pitches toward me, a fierce anger dancing with his drunkenness to create this wounded, vicious animal before me. “Philip—Phil—and those Bikendi camp boys, they’re all ignoring their pasts, and I don’t want to do that anymore. I thought I wanted to forget, to just numb it all, but I don’t want that, Meira—I wantyou. And I thought you did too—damn it all, today I thought we . . .” He stops, laughs brokenly. “Ice, I’m an idiot, because I come here, and even after what Theron did, you still wanthim.”
I strangle the moan that eats at my throat, barely keeping myself together as splintering fragments dig deep. “I don’t know what you saw with Theron, but that wasn’t—”
“I messed up,” Mather cuts me off, his face severe. “I know I messed up. I missed my chance, and damn it, Meira, I was fine to sulk off and lick my wounds andforgetyou. But Noam—the magic chasm—all these threats, they should bemyproblems. I hate that they’re yours now, but I can’t take it all back so you’re safe.Ican’t do anything, Meira. There’s a reason it’s been three months since we’ve talked, and I need to force myself to see that reason. I’ll still do what I can for Winter, but I can’t live like this. I need you toknow that I’m done. I’m not waiting for you to come back into my life.”
All the pain and surprise of him being here explodes in me, sending shards darting out to every limb. But not shards of sorrow or grief—shards of anger.
He hasno ideawhat is going on. And the worst part is—I might have told him, if he hadn’t come here yelling at me, drunk, ripping holes in my already fragile shell of composure.
“I’m sorry you’re miserable,” I snap. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I thought I could talk to you because Ineededto talk to you, and I didn’t think about it more than that. But that’s what got us into this mess, me not thinking things through, and I should have known better. So don’t—”
His brow furrows. “What do you meanyougot us into this mess?”
My head hums, body quivering in uncontrollable waves. “No, you don’t get to sneak intomy bedroomand yell at me and deserve any explanation at all.”
I turn to the door, ready to shout for Garrigan and Conall to yank Mather out of my life. I shouldn’t have talked to him earlier. Despite all he’s undergone, all the things he’s suffered, he’s the only person I know who is stillhimself, who hasn’t let our past change him. He’s the Mather I grew up with, the Mather I fell in love with, and that makes me forget my own masks and want to stop trying so hard to contain myself.
The world blurs, warps, and I’m falling forward, bracing myself on the door.
I can’t be around Mather. I can’t afford to be around anyone who makes me feel like Meira the orphaned soldier-girl—which is why it’s better for me to be around people like Theron and Sir. Who they are makes it easier for me to be queen.
Everything I’d been holding on to so tightly rushes free and I turn back to Mather, searching for his eyes through my haze of tears. He hunches forward like he expects an argument. Why wouldn’t he? We’re always wrong, him in one place and me in another and both of us screaming because we would only work if we went back to how things were.
Things didn’t even work then, though, did they? He was the king and I was a peasant. Now I’m the queen and he’s a lord, but he’s still . . .
Completely, annoyingly, magnificently uncomplicated.
I pinch back a gasp. “I’d choose you if it wouldn’t unravel who I need to be.”
Mather’s body loosens. All the fight drains out of him and he gawks at me, staring for a few beats of complete motionlessness before he jerks his head to the side, the muscles in his face tightening. The hole he’s rending in me deepens as I notice he’s holding back tears, that maybe the smallest part of him wanted me to fight for him and how it should have been. Meira and Mather, no titles or responsibilities.
His chest caves, a breath that deflates him. “I think if we wanted to . . . I think we could have survived being unraveled.”
I gasp, my own tears burning my cheeks.
His alcohol-reddened eyes meet mine long enough that I see the sorrow there, the reality dropping onto him.
“My queen,” he says.
I fumble behind my back for the knob and open the door to the confused faces of Conall and Garrigan, who only grow more confused when Mather walks past me, out into the hall.
He leaves. Just like that. No final good-bye, no last, lingering glance.
Like we never loved each other at all.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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Meira
MUFFLED CRIES RESONATEfrom a room beyond mine, yanking me out of sleep. Before I can do anything to help, the main door to my room opens and Garrigan slips in. He eyes me but I wave him off.
