“Because I’m a woman?”
“Because you are young and impulsive and lack the experience or composure to lead,” Teddy said. “I don’t say that to hurt you. I say it because I love you dearly and it’s my job as your brother to tell you things that are hard to hear privately, so I never have to publicly. You know I respect you as a fighter and a leader, but you are untested and young and the men don’t trust you.”
Alexandra looked away, the white-knuckle grip on her glass the only sign of her displeasure.
“Also, you fuck around too much and too obviously. I know that the men do as well, but the standards are not the same.” He held up his hand before she could protest. “I’m not saying it’s right, but it’strue. If you want to be a leader, you have to first prove you can master yourself, Alex.”
She slammed her glass down on the table beside her. “And how am I supposed to learn to do that when you’re coddling me?” She shook her head. “I need to get the fuck away from this whole family. You all do this. Mother with her dresses. Juliana with her invitations to tea that are actually just set-ups with available lords. Jalen and his military missions that are just pointless tasks to keep me out of his hair. I’m tired of being smothered. I’m a grown woman and if you won’t all treat me like it, I will find a way to make you.”
“Don’t do anything rash, Alex.”
She arched a brow. “Like what?”
Teddy truly could not imagine, but he knew the look in her eyes. It was the same one she wore every time she was working on some devious and terrible plan. She would pay him back or find a way to redeem herself.
When she was little, it was easy to manage those impulses, but now that she was grown, he couldn’t contain her. Especially with Isla gone.
Alexandra got to her feet and walked across the sitting room with purpose, pausing at the door to glare at him one more time. “By the way, Nathan could probably use some consoling if and when you stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Rumor has it that Rosie McKay very publicly shot him down while you were gone,” she said.
“You’re a fucking menace, Alex.”
A smirk passed over her lips. “I know.” She ducked out of the room.
Teddy wasn’t stupid enough to believe this was the end of her anger. Alexandra had a temper, but she was a strategist at heart and understood how to choose the ideal moment for maximum drama.
He had his own feelings to contend with and a tournament to win—he couldn’t also prepare for whatever chaos Alexandra was about to unleash.
33
STELLA
Stella hadn’t been able to face her mother when she first got home. She needed time to process everything. She had dinner with her father, who watched silently, constantly trying to feed her more, and then she’d bathed and locked herself in her room. She’d wanted to reassure her parents that she was fine, but so much had happened and she needed the night to untangle all the complicated things she was feeling.
She’d slept heavily, waking at nearly midday. She’d bathed again, and it wasn’t until she found herself scrubbing the skin of her hands raw that she realized she couldn’t even reassureherselfthat she was fine.
Stella stared at her bright red skin for several long moments, listening to the steady drip of water from her body. She rose from the bath suddenly, sending water sloshing over the sides of the tub.
She dried herself in a hurry, slipped into a simple cotton dress, and patted the water from her hair with a towel.
Finally, she felt ready to face her mother with honesty. Stella crept down the hall and tapped on her parents’ bedroom door.
“Come in,” her mother called.
Stella cracked the door open and stepped inside.
Late afternoon light poured in through the large windows, the curtains stirring with a breeze that held the salty tinge of sea air. One of Rosie’s dangling dried flower sculptures hung from the ceiling over the bed. Vases of Rainer’s carved star flowers and roses were squeezed into every crevice of the overflowing bookcases on the far side of the room. His oldest and most rudimentary carvings were combined with the new, intricately detailed ones in a small glass jar on Cecilia’s nightstand.
Stella didn’t know how to start. She felt suddenly, keenly aware of how her secrets had formed a rift between them. There was a time when she’d told her mother everything. Stella had no idea why she stopped. Some part of her had always been afraid of her mother’s knowing assessment, or maybe she’d subconsciously known that her romance with Arden wouldn’t hold up against her mother’s scrutiny, the same way it hadn’t with Kate.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laid in bed beside her mother and whispered stories in the dark. She’d wanted to be part of her own fantasy so badly that she had shoved Cecilia away.
“You know, I picked this room because it doesn’t get morning sun and I could easily sleep as late as I wanted. But now, being pregnant again and taking afternoon naps, I remember how much I love the light this time of day,” Cecilia said as she pushed herself up. She patted the bed beside her. “Come here, Little Star.”
Stella crossed the room and lay down beside her mother. Cecilia wrapped one of Stella’s damp curls around her finger and waited in the quiet, patient way she always did when she knew Stella needed a moment to untangle her feelings.
Stella traced her fingers over the flower pattern on her dress as the sadness in her chest began to unravel. “I thought that Arden was the hero in my story.”
“And now what do you think?” her mother asked, gently stroking her hair.
