The temptation, the need, is too great. I reach for the book, opening to the first page.
At first, it is difficult. I can almost hear her delivering these impassioned arguments, as if she were right here in the room with me. She manages to take this topic, one so sensitive, that leaves people so divided, and make it seem relatable and relevant. Her voice lingers as I fill my head with her thoughts.
What right do we have to deny these women their right to a free life?
I, for one, can never stand by the sanctioned killing of women who have done nothing but exist.
Being a mother is the greatest thing I have ever done, my children the best gift I have received; how can I stand by and deny others the immense privilege of motherhood?
It isn’t until a drop lands on one page, smudging the long-dried ink, that I realize I’m crying.
My mother considered me and Dom her greatest gift, and yet here I am, working against everything she believed in. Shame washes over me. I don’t have to imagine what my mother would think of me in this moment. I already know.
I slam the book closed, partly to protect the pages from further damage, partly because I do not know if I can stand to read anymore.
My mother had a clear vision for Scota, for a united Avon. A vision she felt so strongly about, I have no doubt she would have given her life for it.
My skin begins to burn, with fear or with anger, I’m not completely sure what is driving me. I do know, somewhere deep in my bones, that there is only one way to soothe the ache.
The carriage ride to La Puissance is bumpy and seems to drag on for hours longer than necessary. My mother’s words tumble in my mind until I know only one thing for certain: I must be the one to kill my father. I must be the one to lead Avon.
I must learn to trust the Gifted.
When I finally arrive at the club, the lobby is nearly vacant, only a few residents milling around. It looks different in the light of day, less opulent and more gaudy. No one rushes over to entice me, and the silence rings in my ears. We’re outside normal business operating hours, but I’m hoping Dom spent enough money for them not to apply to me.
Caterine opens her door midsentence, like she was anticipating someone else. Someone who is clearly not me. I tamp down the jealousy sparking in my chest at the thought of her waiting for someone else to come to her chambers.
“Callum. I wasn’t expecting you until this evening.” She glances down at her clothing, which is remarkably similar to my own, cotton pants and a loose-fitting shirt. Her face is completely bare ofmakeup and her golden waves are loosely braided, hanging down her back.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
I swallow thickly, pushing away the urge to sweep her into my arms and bury myself in her. “I’m sorry to just barge in, my lady.”
“You did pay for an entire week of my time.” She leans in the doorway, and it doesn’t escape my notice that she does not invite me in. “Unfortunately, I was just on my way out.”
“Oh?” She isn’t dressed to be meeting clients, and Dom told me that one condition of their agreement was that Caterine entertain only me. “May I come with you?”
She raises one eyebrow. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”
I shrug. “I do not much care. As long as you are open to a little conversation along the way?”
She studies me for a second, and I must pass whatever test she is silently giving me because she nods, ducking back into her room to grab a canvas bag before joining me in the hallway, closing the door behind her.
I follow her down the back stairs and out onto the street. “My carriage is out front, if we are going somewhere far.”
She laughs, leading me to a stable where two horses are saddled and ready. “I don’t think it is wise to bring your carriage with us, Your Highness.”
“Were you expecting someone else?” I gesture to the second horse as she mounts the first.
Her eyes darken. “Andra, my sister, usually comes with me, but she isn’t feeling well.”
I mount the waiting horse, his black coat shining under the midday sun. “I hope she gets better soon.”
“Me too,” she mutters, spurring her horse into a trot.
I follow in her wake as she leads us out of Stratford City. I haven’t spent nearly enough time in Avon’s capital, and so I try to absorb as many details as I can as we ride. Many of the city’s roads are bustling, outdoor marketplaces and food vendors lining the cobbled streets. Just as many alleyways are dark and dingy, littered with trash. Beggars occasionally reach out a hand, but we are traveling too fast for me to offer much help. I make a mental note to bring more coins with me on my next journey to La Puissance.
If I am going to lead this country, I need to know it. And the people need to know me.
