“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You are mistaken.”
“I’m just telling you what I saw.”
I stand, heart racing and stomach knotting.
Jagged stone presses into my bare feet.
My mother.
“Vexar,” Amara pleads.
I step away from the bed. Amara’s words are tree sap in the summer. Cloying. Penetrating. Impossible to shake. She should not know what my mother looked like. She should not know about my family sigil.
A barrage of questions overwhelms me. Suspicion spreads. Was Amara sent here to break me? To destroy my mind? Is that why Gaius allowed her into my cell? Gods. Was it a mistake to trust her? Panic settles into my bones. I have made a mistake. I should not have trusted her so easily. She has deceived me. She is trying to make me betray my family, my people.
“Open the tether,” I command, spinning to face her.
She flinches back at the volume of my voice.
“Open it!” I yell.
Her expression goes cold, and a moment later, I feel her. But her presence is not passive. The dark eyes of Xelora burn into me as she boldly sifts through my mind, searching, prying, digging. She is invading me. Manipulating me.
“Stop!” I growl as the tendrils of her mind dig their roots into the very foundation of my existence.
There is a flicker of fear behind her eyes, and something inside me shatters.
Stop.
My rage breaks beneath a tsunami of guilt as my handcovers my mouth. I turn away.
What am I doing?
I need to move. Need to cool the fire raging beneath my surface. Need to regain my control. Need to think.
My ears roar.
She speaks again, but this time I cannot hear her. Words no longer register. My heart crashes against my ribcage as terror curls in my gut.My mother…
Discipline and control.
Thoughts race. I glance back at Amara. At her wary eyes. At her concern.What have I done?There is no deceit in her, no desire to control. I want to scream. To run. To break something.
My motherknew.
Memories surface. Moment after moment, coming into question. Lesson after lesson, turning to doubt.
My mother knew. She was here. Shelied.
I thought she was honorable, but shelied. She lied to me, to the Senate, to our people. And for what? What reason could she have had? Was she protecting Gaius? Did someone force her? No. I scrub my hands over my face. That is impossible. My mother could not be forced; she was monolithic and uncompromising, made of iron and heartwood.
They put her in a box,the voice whispers.
Rage surges. Burning ice courses through my veins. I squat down, gripping my head and panting with the effort of holding back the surge of darkness that threatens to consume me.
Sheput her in a box.
My mother allowed it to happen. Sheknew. So many lies.
