The fact that my mother had this made for me before I completed the Undertaking—that she had enough faith in my worth to take this step—twisted my stomach.Because I had not come back.
“I can’t accept this, Mother.” I gripped it tighter. “It’s beautiful. It’s perfect, but I can’t wear it.”
“Yet,” was all she said.
I looked closer at the engravings on the sash. Stars.North Stars.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tracing the largest star, thinking of who it represented.
“You deserve it.” For the first time since I arrived, a full smile lifted her lips.
I didn’t have the heart to wash it away by admitting that while she had guarded this cherished gift for over two years, I wasn’t sure I wanted it.
I losttrack of how long I sat in that dim chamber, barely daring to accept I was truly with my mother again. We were both hurt, shadowsof people we had once been, but in those few hours, a bit of light returned to her. She’d be okay.
When the moon was high in the sky and she was yawning, I took my leave, tucking her gift beneath my arm.
“Good night, Mali. I love you,” she said as I gripped the door handle.
“I love you, too, Mother.” The words felt good to say, despite the pressure on my chest. Despite the fact that all evening, my bones were weighed down.
I crept through the palace, stopping in shadows of statues and alcoves whenever footsteps echoed on the marble floors and wide staircases. I stared absently at the murals on the ceilings as I fought to steady my breath. I was in no mood to speak to anyone.
When I finally made it back to the suite Ophelia and I shared, I closed the bedchamber door behind me, leaning my back against it. Everything was heavy—my arms, my head, my heart. My bones each weighed a ton. They wanted a break. Time to rest, that was all they asked.
But there was work to be done and ugly realities to accept. So much time to make up for and so many apologies to utter. So much, when I was alreadyso broken?—
My breathing turned into short gasps against the cracking in my chest. One by one, those fragmented pieces of the innocent boy who had loved his father pierced my heart. Shame over the lies I’d told, guilt for the pain I’d caused, and even sadness for my despicable father’s death flooded out of me with each slice.
Darkness dragged me to the ground. The box clattered to the marble, the corner chipping as it snapped open, the sash tumbling out.
It was a symbol I should’ve been proud to don.
I didn’t want it.
Didn’t deserve it.
The tears that had been bundled in my chest all night slipped out, burning with pained fury and blurring the stars on the leather. Since Ophelia had found me—since she’d killed my father—I’d been balancing on this precipice. Now, sorrow flowed faster, trickling over my lips, tainted bitter with disgust.
How was I sad over that man’s death? After everything he’d done, I still managed to mourn.
I ran my hands through my hair, gripping it. With shuddering breaths, I reminded myself of the truth.
Ambrisk is better off without Lucidius.
Everyone I loved was safer with him gone.
But the sash, the Mystique Warrior I was meant to become…it was a tarnished, hateful reality. As a boy, I’d wanted those things in order to be like my father. As a man, I wanted to be nothing like him. I’d slice open my arm and untangle his blood from mine if possible, if only to be clean. To draw out any lingering connection to him so I could find my own path forward.
But pain couldn’t be lifted so easily. That was the thing I was learning about betrayals—they didn’t vanish. No bridge could be built to carry the scorned party over it; you had to muddlethrough. Fight through icy waves, weeds tangling around your ankles, current slapping at you.
If I was being honest, I didn’t know if I could.
At some point, I crawled to bed. With the box from my mother on the nightstand, I fell asleep atop the covers, a wrung-out shadow of the man everyone expected me to be.
Chapter Three
Ophelia
