Her reaction is different from what I expected. She takes several steps back and presses one hand to her chest. A tear rolls down her cheek as she stares at me with wide eyes.
“Brandon,” she whispers. “Oh gods, I remember him. And now I remember you too, his little sister. I’m so very sorry for what happened back then. I’m so sorry that I didn’t intervene when my husband acted out. I should have done more to protect you and your family.”
Her words are sincere. I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there and watch her cry.
“My husband is a difficult man,” she continues after a moment, wiping at her tears. “And my son is a complicated man,too. You’ll need to be patient with him. But I believe you two are a good match. He’s always liked you, even when he was little.”
“Sorry?”
“Oh yes.” She smiles. “He was ten years old and you were six, and he’d talk about you all the time. He’d watch you play, even though he never had the courage to approach you. He’d ask Brandon so many questions about you.”
I’m stunned by this revelation. I always thought Altair didn’t even know I existed.
“Would you like to see his father?” she asks.
My stomach twists at the suggestion. I don’t believe that I would, but I look at this woman in front of me, who’d just cried over my brother’s death and apologized for things that weren’t her fault. I can’t refuse her.
“Sure,” I say.
She leads me out of the sitting room and down a short hallway to another door. When she opens it, I’m hit by the smell of sickness and medicine. The bedroom is opulent, with expensive tapestries on the walls and a massive bed in the center, but none of that matters when I see the figure lying in it.
Varrick Aurellion is not the man I remember. He’s shriveled and pale, barely more than a skeleton covered in loose skin. I remember him as tall, broad, and imposing, a lord who commanded fear and respect with just his presence. This man is barely alive, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
I approach the bed, and he must’ve sensed me, because he opens his eyes. They’re unfocused at first, but then they land on me.
“Go away!” he shouts, his voice cracking. “Go away! Get away from me! Don’t you dare!”
Altair’s mother quickly pulls me back and guides me out of the room. She closes the door behind us. I can still hear him shouting inside.
“What’s going on with him?” I ask, my heart pounding.
“Varrick hasn’t been well for many years now,” she says sadly. “I’m sorry about the way he reacted.”
“Did he recognize me?”
“No, but he knows that you’re human. He’s an old man with old beliefs, but things are changing. We are the old generation, and we are dying out, and that’s all right. That’s how things are supposed to be.”
I never thought Altair’s mother was such a decent and sensible person. I feel sad that I never knew her properly, and I only saw her as the wife of the monster who destroyed my family.
“I’m feeling tired,” she says gently, “but thank you for visiting me. Please give Altair a chance, even though he’s probably more difficult than he should be.”
I nod, and she calls for Klara to show me out. When I step back into the corridor, Greta is waiting for me. We walk together in silence, until we’re far enough from the north wing that I feel like I can breathe again.
“Thank you for everything you did for me today,” I tell her.
She gives me a smile.
“I need to think,” I say, more to myself than to her.
Chapter Twelve
Altair
I hear the servants whispering in the corridor outside my chambers, their voices low and cautious. I catch only fragments of their conversation before they scurry away. Something about the north wing and about the young bride visiting Lady Helena.
My vision goes red.
I told Tressa the north wing isn’t necessarily off limits, but I never expected her to actually go there. If she hates me, then I can only imagine how much she must hate my father and my mother. They are the ones who destroyed her life. I was only a child back then, but they were supposed to be responsible adults. And I brought her back here, under their roof.
