The rest of the day was a blur.
The seamstress, Estal, appeared in the later hours of the morning following breakfast and popped about each of their rooms, adding last-minute lace and trim or making adjustments. Eira was grateful they were dressing in the manor. She had been dreading the idea of going back to the woman’s atelier.
Around lunchtime, Mistress Harrot delivered refreshments in the form of tea and finger sandwiches. Eira watched her movements through the room from the corner of her eye. The woman was definitely lingering beyond what was necessary.
“Excuse me a moment,” Estal’s assistant said, standing from where she’d been working on Eira’s hem. “I need to get a bit of lace.”
“Of course,” Eira said with a smile.
As soon as the door was closed, Harrot turned. “Do you have everything you need?”
“I do, thank you.” Eira kept her magic at the ready. The woman was certainly suspicious, but, oddly enough, Eira continued to feel no threat from her. Even though Eira was certain she was a Pillar and Ferro’s mother…Harrot seemed disarmed today.
“The ball is certainly quite the event,” she said softly.
“Indeed.”
Harrot stepped forward and Eira took a step back, keeping her distance. Pain flashed through the woman’s eyes. She lowered them, adjusting the hair that had spilled from her bun and tucking it back in. “Please, there must be another way.”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t… He’s all I have,” Harrot begged.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eira looked out the window.
Taking her eyes off of Harrot was a mistake. The woman closed the gap with a speed Eira didn’t expect her to possess and she gripped Eira’s hand.
“Unhand me!”
“He’s all I have!” she repeated. “There must be another way to rekindle the flame. I kept the dagger safe. I can keep more relics here, hidden. What else can I do? If the flame must be ignited again, then let me do it, not him.”
Tonight. The Pillars had the relics they needed. They were going to try to reignite the Flame of Yargen at the ball. Eira had to tell someone.
“Glory to the Champion,” Eira muttered.
“Of course…you really are one of them.” Harrot slowly released her, the pain in her eyes doubling. It gave Eira the keen sense that, somewhere along the line, she had misjudged the woman.
Harrot was Ferro’s mother. But she wasn’t a zealot like the rest of the Pillars. She was just someone looking out for, and looking to connect with, her son. She had taken the dagger not for the Champion and reigniting the flame, but because it was Ferro—her son—who asked.
Ugliness poisoned Eira’s thoughts. It swam through her, staining every corner of her emotions. This mother was so desperate to do anything for her son that she would ignore everything else she knew was true. That her son was cruel, wicked, abusive, and a power-hungry murderer. Yet, here she was, still looking after him.
Ferrohad such a mother.
When Eira had none.
She frowned, feeling her face twist into something that likely more resembled a snarl. Harrot released her and backed away. She looked at Eira as though she had transformed into a wild beast.
“You can’t change what’s going to happen tonight.” Malice kissed her words. A hatred that had been festering for weeks underneath a thin veneer had been ripped to the surface.
“He cares for you. You must—” Fortunately, for her own sake, Harrot didn’t get to finish. Otherwise Eira would’ve spared no explanation as to what Ferro’s “care” really looked like.
The apprentice returned. “Apologies. That took longer than expected. One of my companions had the lace in your friend’s room.”
“No problem.” Eira plastered a sweet smile on instantly. She glanced to Harrot. “Did you need anything else?”
“No,” Harrot murmured, bowed her head, and left.
Eira stared out the window, confident that even if Harrot wasn’t a zealot, Eira’s performance had given her no fodder to report back to Ferro with. Eira had played her role as loyal Pillar in hiding. She inhaled sharply as the laces of her corset were tightened. It felt like armor.
