As she stepped into Mother’s the bedchamber, it was the aroma that hit her first—rosewater. Though she hadn’t set foot inside this room in years, it was a scent that struck her square in the elemental place that resided within every person—the child who knew their parent’s scent in a way that existed beyond consciousness. Such was the bond that persisted between a child and their parent. Nothing could break it.
And yet …
She didn’t know where thatand yetled or what followed.
Yet she felt it—a shift—as she crossed the bedchamber and faced Mother across the length of her upright body as she sat propped against the silk damask headboard of her massive bed, surrounded by half a dozen pillows of varying sizes. Mother had an entire sleeping method that involved a dark room, lambswool in her ears, a silk sleeping mask, and a battalion of pillows. Under no circumstances would Mother have a bad or interrupted night’s sleep.
Yet here she was, awake before she should be.
A note of foreboding stirred within Artemis.
“Well done, daughter,” said Mother.
It was only then she noticed the smile on Mother’s face. “What have I done well?”
Her voice rang hollow to her own ears, even as the unresolved sob in her throat imbued it with a wretched quality.
Well, she was wretched and devastated and she’d never been any good at hiding what she was feeling at any given moment. So, here she stood at the foot of Mother’s bed—hollow … wretched … devastated.
“You’ve sent him away, of course.”
Artemis blinked.
A feeling, sudden and overwhelming, surged and crashed through her in the minute sliver of time it took one second to tick into the next—fury.
A fury so fierce and bright, so deep, burning, and pure, it terrified her.
A fury that had a single point of focus—Mother.
“Him?” Her voice quaked with emotion barely suppressed. “Can’t you even speak his name?”
Mother exhaled a delicate, long-suffering sigh. “Oh, Artemis, don’t be dramatic.”
It came to her in a flash.
Bran had been right.
She had been blind.
No, worse.
She had beenwillfullyblind.
So here she stood—hollow, wretched, devastated, furious, andembarrassed.
She’d been a fool.
“All these years,” she said, “I defended you.”
Mother’s brow lifted with incredulity. “Defended me?” she scoffed. “Defended me from what? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I’ve defended you from myself.”
“It’s too early in the day for you not to be making any sense, Artemis.”
She was in no mood to be influenced. “Whenever you said or did something that felt wrong, I gave you the benefit of a doubt. It was because you loved me and had my best interests at heart. That was what I told myself. It’s what I told others, too.”
Bran.
