“Where was the ship heading?” I asked.
Her eyes shifted from the parchment and back again to my face. “Unclear.” She handed it to me.
The passenger in question, a man by the name of Armand R., paid thirteen gold coins to gain passage on the cargo ship transporting goods from the Island Territory to four other regions, one of which is unnamed. The ledger doesn’t clarify which region he stopped at, and anything past this point is untraceable.
My brow furrowed. “Four other regions? There are only three other territories it could have gone to. Unless?—”
“It went to Veridia,” Mother finished the thought for me.
“You think Father is in the Veridian Empire?”
Her shoulders fell, frustration lining her face. “I don’t know what to think, Thorne. It shouldn’t be possible. You would think we would know if people were going to and from the kingdom back then, but there’s no other record of him. He can’t have simply disappeared into thin air.”
I thought about Nox, and how that Scarven governor could so easily send his own people to Mysthelm. What if we’d been shipping people and cargo over there as well, with nobody knowing about it?
“That would be just like him,” Mother said with a sneer. “To leave us with his problems and run for the hills, starting a new life withtheirkind. As if he could get any lower.”
Over the last three weeks, I’d developed defensive instincts toward the empire. So many people here spoke about Veridians with such contempt, and it made my hackles rise. “It’s not their fault if he messed up his life so completely that he had to get away from Mysthelm,” I countered. “Not everything about their empire is bad, Mother.”
“Evidently your father would agree with you. Perhaps they will brainwash you next, if they haven’t already,” she snapped, ripping the parchment from my grip. “Come along, Marigold; it’s getting late!” Mother moved away from me to help Marigold gather her toys, leaving me rearing from the sudden turn in conversation.
A gentle tap at the window behind them made my neck snap up. A flash of blonde hair appeared for a split second before vanishing just as quickly.
Mother looked back with a raised eyebrow.
“Grandma’s right, it’s time for bed,” I said, drawing her attention away from the window.
Mother held my stare for a second longer, then looked down at Marigold to take her hand. A genuine beam—one only reserved for that little girl—split across Mother’s stern features. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight, sweetheart.”
Marigold jumped up and down in excitement. “Can I have some of that chocolate candy we tried yesterday?” she begged.
“Maybe. But we can’t tell your daddy, alright?”
Marigold put her finger over her lips and nodded, and the strange tension from before began to melt away as I watched them together.
“You two have a good time,” I said softly. They waved back at me, my mother’s gaze lingering on the window before they walked out the front door.
I let out a sigh and rubbed my temples. These moments with my mother lately left me confused and disoriented, never knowing quite how to read her anymore.
Those thoughts faded when another tap sounded behind me.
I smiled as I unlatched the window, ushering Clarissa in through the small opening.
“Was the front door not good enough for you?” I asked with a chuckle as she straightened and brushed leaves off her leggings and tight black shirt, her cheeks flushed and hair windswept.
“I figured I should be discreet.” She shrugged, then eyed the door. “Plus, your mother kind of scares me.”
“I know the feeling,” I muttered.
Her forehead pinched. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, it’s just…she gets in these moods.” I shook my head, needing to talk to someone about it. Galen was the person I always confided in, but he was currently refusing to speak to me.
I motioned for her to follow me to the couch. Its weight shifted as we both sat, and she tucked her feet under her, leaning her elbow on the back of it. She tilted her head to the side, those big dark eyes alert and attentive. I resisted the urge to draw her closer, resisted the thoughts of how right this felt. The two of us settling in after a long day, so mundane and casual.
In another life, perhaps.
“I haven’t told you much about my father,” I began. “He left us four years ago with no explanation, and we haven’t heard from him since.” Her eyes widened, but I brushed away her concern. “Trust me, it was ultimately for the best—he was a bad husband, and an even worse father.”
