And in fourteen short days, Clarissa had brought the color back. It exploded before my eyes, vivid hues and tones I’d long forgotten. Peace like white clouds drifting across a pale blue sky. Anger like red and orange flames dancing in the wind. Passion like the deep pink of her cheeks, her swollen lips parting beneath mine. Strength and steadiness like the brown eyes staring back at me, or the unshakeable dark mountains drenched in sunlight at our backs.
Fates, maybe she was right. Iwasbecoming a romantic. Or I’dalways been one. A fool, as my mother called me, to once again even consider the idea oflovebeing a force strong enough to conquer the darkness.
I didn’t know what might exist between Clarissa and me. It could’ve been something beautiful. Something to rival the Fates themselves.
I supposed the Fates were the only ones who would ever know.
The hallsof the Penworth Estates seemed darker as I watched Clarissa make her way to her room, my cloak pulled tight around her shoulders. I ached to follow her, but I knew the best thing for me—forbothof us—was to keep my distance before my heart could travel even further down this path.
I rounded a corner in the corridor where my daughter’s room lay when voices behind my mother’s cracked door caught my attention.
“...promised me you had this under control,” my mother whispered, her tone cold.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. Things didn’t go as planned.” I couldn’t place the second person’s voice, but it was definitely female. Through the small open sliver in the doorway, I could only see Mother’s frame and half of her dark purple gown. Her back was to me, her body hiding any hint of the person she was speaking to.
“Obviously. I want it done before we get to the island. Or do you not understand what I…” Mother moved farther into the room, and her voice grew so soft, I could no longer make out what she was saying.
I shuffled closer to the door, and the tip of my shoe bumped against the frame. I cursed under my breath as their whispers ceased, followed by the sound of a skirt ruffling and footsteps tracking across the wooden floor. When I pushed the door open, my mother stood alone.
“Who were you speaking to?” I asked.
“A servant,” she responded with a shrug, adjusting the bun at the top of her head.
“That wasn’t a servant.” I took a step toward her. My mind raced through the few words I’d heard, doubts I didn’t want to face growing with each second. I’d barely spent any time with my mother since our disagreement at the Harvest Festival. I hadn’t wanted to be around her much. She didn’t particularly approve of the empressnorGalen’s reign, but I thought she’d agreed to stop plotting against them after learning the truth about the curse.
I didn’t want to believe she had anything to do with the terrible things that had happened to both Clarissa and Galen in the past weeks. But after what I’d just overheard…
“What are you planning, Mother?”
“I’m not planning anything,son,” she said, drawing out the word as she crossed the room to her vanity. “I asked a servant to fetch me some more decent clothing for this territory, and they failed to deliver. I was expressing my disappointment.”
“That’s a terrible lie, even for you.”
She whipped her head toward me. “Watch your tone,” she snapped.
“Then tell me the truth. What hasn’t gone to plan?” I clenched my hands at my sides, paranoia causing new, unthinkable suspicions to come into the light. “Do you know who’s behind what’s happened to Clarissa and Galen?”
She turned to her mirror and picked up a makeup brush. “Why does someone have to be ‘behind it’ at all? They are merely coincidences, Thorne. Terrible coincidences that have thankfully seemed to stop.” She dabbed blush along her sharp cheeks. “You’ve always had such an active imagination. Just like that woman you married.”
I’d often been frustrated with my mother, but I’d hardly ever felt the kind of anger that burned beneath my skin as it did now. She’d never been thiscruel. Condescension seeped from her pores, and for the first time, my rose-colored glasses toward the woman who gave me life began to lift.
Was this how she’d always been? Scoffing at me, hurling underhanded insults toward the people I loved?
“I could have you arrested,” I said. “Conspiracy against the king is treason.”
She rolled her eyes and threw the brush down. “For Fates’ sake, Thorne, I’m notconspiringagainst anyone. And even if I were, you’d do well to remember thatyou, my dear son, were once in agreement with me about the Grimaldis.” Standing abruptly, her chair went skidding along the floor. “If you’re going to throw around allegations of treason, you better be prepared to face the consequences.”
“Are youthreateningme?”
She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, rubbing her fingers in a circle at her temples. When she opened them again, the anger had left her features. “Ofcoursenot, Thorne. I would never do anything to put you or Marigold in danger. You caught me at a bad time. I’m frustrated, and I’ve taken it out on you. I’m sorry, dear.”
I let my breaths even out, trying to force aside my momentary rage. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then tell me what that conversation was about.”
She paused, then said, “Your father.”
My lips parted as I took a step back. That was the last thing I expected her to say. “What does he have to do with this?”
“I’ve been looking for him. I’ve paid several people to uncover his whereabouts and track him down.That’swhat you heard. My latest informant was unable to bring me anything helpful.”
