“You forget I was no love-struck girl who fell for him. I felt affinity, and I grew to love the man I thought he was, but this entire partnership was an agreement between our parents.”
The Deneski family, my mother’s line, was a strong Mystique heritage, and that was how these political arrangements worked. A Revered needed a worthy partner at their side, demonstrating unity and commitment. Their proposal had been supported by every party, save for the man himself, apparently.
I used to think myself fortunate that my parents never sought the same control over my life. Though, Ophelia and I made their task easy by choosing each other at such a young age. Should our parents have selected, it would have been us anyway. The son of the Revered and the eldest Alabath daughter—it always made sense.
“But why not demand he at least respect you? If you knew what he was doing…”
“I saw no point in us being unhappy together if we could be happy apart and still hold the image of power.” Her shoulders drooped, each confession paining her. “I thought his dalliance was only that—a physical relationship with another. I didn’t know who it was or what they planned. I only focused on fulfilling the role I’d stepped into, on being what the Mystiques needed. And that was an example to emulate and an heir born of two powerful bloodlines.”
“An heir that was never wanted.” Looking at my hands, I counted the scars left on my wrists from my cuffs.
“Don’t you dare think that, Malakai. Not for one fateful second.” She pulled both of my hands between hers. “I have always wanted you. You were the brightest point of this entire charade.” Tears rolled down her cheeks again. “You are the thing that made it worth it.”
Her words cushioned the hatred surrounding my heart, if only slightly.
“He had another son. Another family.He didn’t want us.” And there it was—the earth-shattering truth that hurt me as much as the physical torture I’d endured. The man who was responsible for my existence regretted it.
“If I had been a stronger woman, I would have left him when he was unfaithful, but politics are trickier than that. For years, I convinced myself I was happy, and once I hadyou, I truthfully was. There were so many times I wanted to leave with you, but I figured that with him in Damenal and us in Palerman, it was the best it could be. Then, when you were little, and I lost my brother, my future was cemented. I had to stay with the Revered until you inherited his rule because I needed to provide for my parents. Ensure their health and safety.”
I could barely remember what my uncle looked like, but I remembered the way my mother cried when he died. Until today, it was the only time I’d seen her so distraught.
“One thing is certain,” I said through a thick throat. “Lucidius may have given me his blood, but I don’t want to be his son.”
My mother tugged my head to her shoulder, running soothing hands down my back, and repeatedly muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I asked.
“Because I didn’t protect you.”
Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I forced them away again. “You’re not the one at fault.”
She smiled softly at me, the small slip of joy brightening the room’s fog of despair. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”
I might never be okay again, I didn’t say.
“I have something for you,” she continued, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“For me?” I asked, but she was already striding across the room. She cracked the door of the armoire, and dresses and leathers threatened to overflow?—
“He gave you these rooms?”
Anger burned through me at the realization that those belongings had been here before she arrived today.
Lucidius had moved her here. Not that she spent much time in Damenal, particularly after I disappeared, but sometime between thenand now, he’d cast her out of his suite. Transferred her palace things to the level for prisoners.
She clearly didn’t want to discuss the fucked-up treatment, because she shook her head at my mangled expression and crossed back to the settee, a polished wooden box in her hands. She held it out to me, fingers trembling.
Prickling curiosity numbed my anger.
“What is it?” The box was heavy in my lap, but I only stared at it.
“Open it, dear.”
When I lifted the lid, my jaw popped open at the gift tucked in its velvet lining.
“It’s only two years later than I intended.” Her voice was low, but emotion fought to rise within it.
Gently, I slipped my hand beneath the cool leather. It warmed instantly, as if waiting for me. I removed the warrior’s sash—my sash—from the box and unfolded it before my eyes, every movement slowed by shock and reverence. Made of a thick brown leather, it would be impenetrable, enhanced by the essence of power we guarded.
