Stella hesitated. She knew the admission wouldn’t make her mother love her any less, but she didn’t want to burden Cecilia with anything else.
“I killed someone. I—” Stella’s throat tightened. “I killed three people.”
“Oh, my Little Star.” Her mother pulled Stella into her arms and held her tight as she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. We hoped you would have it better than the two of us, but you did what you had to do.”
Stella gulped in a breath. “I know it sounds so silly. I knew it was a possibility going into this contest, but I just didn’t think it would happen like this. It was so fast, and I just reacted. And it was—” She gasped out a sob. “It was soeasy.”
Her mother kissed the top of her head and squeezed her harder. “I know. It’s okay.”
It had been so long since Stella had been held that way. How had she forgotten her mother’s gentleness? How had she forgotten the person she always wanted most when she was sad or hurt? How had she forgotten how soothing it was just to be hugged and enveloped in the summer scent of her mother?
Stella cried harder. Of course Cecilia knew what it was to have blood on her hands and to be shocked by her own ability for violence.
Stella pulled back and met her mother’s watery gaze. “How many people did you kill while pursuing the Gauntlet?”
“Eighty-nine. I was eighteen the first time I killed a man.” Cecilia sighed. “Don’t look so surprised. I never forgot. That number is just the men I killed with my own hands. It doesn’t include the battalion Ikilled accidentally with my magic or anyone in the battles after that. It never got easier. It just became more of a reflex to protect myself.” She swallowed hard. “I did what I had to in order to survive and my grief now doesn’t come from being disappointed in you or your choices. I just hate that you have to fight when I wanted you to know only peace. All of you.” Her hand slid to her stomach.
Stella imagined Leo and Rosie in the tournament. She’d do anything to keep them from feeling this way.
“I think about your grandfather a lot as I watch you in the games,” Cecilia said. “I was so much like you at your age. I see now how the choices your Grandpa Leo made for me were out of love and protectiveness and not control. As I watch you compete, I have a whole new appreciation for the terror he must have felt watching me go off to try to finish the Gauntlet. Being a parent is always wanting better for your kids, while knowing that you can’t save them from making their own mistakes.”
“But I don’t want to make mistakes.”
Cecilia smiled softly. “You sound just like your father.”
Stella sobbed a startled laugh.
Cecilia took her hand. “We are forged by our mistakes. I wouldn’t wish you perfection because you’d be bored. I knew from the first moment you set your father’s sleeve on fire at ten months old that you would be aforce, and here you are, choosing yourself. It’s a hard, lonely lesson, but it will serve you well. Sometimes it comes down to you or someone else, and I’m happy that you love yourself enough to fight.”
Tears welled in Stella’s eyes. She’d always felt so messy and out of control, a bright spark in the shadow of her mother’s grace. But Cecilia’s pride made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.
Stella didn’t know how to say that she hadn’t killed for herself. When it was her life on the line, she couldn’t do it. It was seeing Teddy in danger that had made her capable of such violence. That was what really frightened her.
How easily she’d lost herself in Arden and how quickly she could do the same thing again.
But it was not the same. Teddy was not weak, and he had fought for her. He had killed to protect her and he’d done it without a second thought.
“Is that all that’s bothering you?” Her mother’s voice startled her from her thoughts.
Stella couldn’t possibly begin to unpack how she felt about Teddy. She’d been certain she had him pegged, but now she was so confused.
Maybe she’d have the words eventually, but she needed a deflection. She glanced at her mother’s stomach, just the hint of a curve to it under her cotton dress. “How are you feeling?”
Cecilia smiled, and Stella understood in that moment what people meant when they said pregnant women glowed. Her mother looked lit from within by joy. “I’m still getting sick a lot—like I did with you—but your father’s excitement is contagious. He’s working on a new crib and it’s been good for him to have something to focus his anxiety on with you in the tournament. I’m happy to have him fussing over his projects instead of over me or you.”
Stella laughed. “I’m happy about the baby, but also a little jealous, which sounds so ridiculous. I’m a grown woman.”
Cecilia smiled and pulled her close so Stella’s head was tucked against her chest. “I know you’re worried about this new baby, but you will always be my first baby, Stella. You were so dearly wished for. You taught me how to be a mother and Leo and Rosie have benefited from having you as a big sister. This new baby will, too. I’m so proud of the beautiful, passionate young woman you’ve become.”
“But everyone else has found their place. Leo is a fighter, and he helps Papa with his woodwork. Rosie has her art and flowers,” Stella said.
“And you will find yours, too. It’s okay if it takes longer.”
Stella thought of the look of intense concentration and pleasure on Rosie’s face as she knotted flowers onto threads, weaving artful, intricate, hanging floral sculptures as if she could see a thing in the world no one else did.
Stella had none of that. No ability to see invisible patterns orcreate. She only knew how to destroy. Friendships, opportunities, relationships, and, now, people.
“Leo has always been good at making people feel welcome and Rosie has always been good at making things beautiful. I only seem to know how to burn things down,” Stella said.
