“For what it is worth,” she said quietly, “I know you would never betray my son. I know Killian is his. Anyone with eyes can see it. He has Malachar’s stubborn chin.”
Something in my chest loosened slightly. “Thank you. That means everything right now.”
“Not everyone believes the lies.”
“Enough people do. That’s the problem.” I took a shaky breath. “Enough people looked at my four-year-old and called him a bastard to his face. Enough people suggested he should die for the good of the kingdoms. And I couldn’t stop them.”
Sorcha’s eyes flashed with fury. “They will regret those words. My son will make certain of it.”
“They’d better.” I stood, needing to move. “The nobles will be watching today, won’t they? Listening for any sign of weakness.”
“Yes. Some will be looking for proof of the lies they want to believe.”
“Good.” I felt my spine straighten, my chin lift. “Let them watch me be a mother and see exactly how little I care about their opinions.”
“They may say cruel things. Whisper where you can hear.”
“If they say one word to my son, I’ll have them removed from this castle. I don’t care who they are. I don’t care what kingdomthey represent. I don’t care if it causes a political incident.” I met her eyes, let her see the protective fury rising in me. “They already hurt him once. They don’t get to do it again.”
Sorcha smiled, proud and fierce. “That’s my daughter-in-law.”
“They want to call me names? Fine. I’ve been called worse by better people. But they touch my son again, even with words, and I will end them. Politically, socially, whatever it takes.”
I returned to the bedroom quietly. Mal was still deeply asleep, his breathing deep and even. He needed the rest.
Killian was curled on his side, his face peaceful. But even in sleep, there were dried tear tracks on his cheeks.
I sat on the edge of the bed and gently brushed the hair back from his forehead. “Killian, sweetheart. Time to wake up.”
He stirred, his eyes fluttering open slowly. For a moment, he looked confused. Then I saw the memory crash into him and his face started to crumple.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, pulling him into my arms. “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”
“I had bad dreams,” he whispered against my shoulder.
“I know you did. But they were just dreams. You’re safe now.”
“Are we staying in bed all day?” His voice was so hopeful.
“No, sweetheart. We’re going to the gardens, get some sunshine, pick some flowers. Do normal things.” I said. I wanted to distract him, to replace all the bad memories with good ones.
“What if people are mad at me?”
“Then they can be mad somewhere else. This is your home. You don’t have to hide from anyone.”
He pulled back to look at me, his eyes wide and uncertain. “Promise?”
“Promise. Now let’s get you dressed and go find some pretty flowers.”
Getting him ready took longer than usual. He was clingy, not wanting me out of arm’s reach even while I helped him into his clothes. But eventually we made it outside.
The gardens were beautiful this time of morning, sunlight streaming through the trees and flowers blooming everywhere. Under normal circumstances, Killian would be running ahead of me, pointing at butterflies and asking a million questions about why grass was green and whether flowers could talk.
Instead, he was glued to my side, his hand gripping mine so tightly it almost hurt.
“Look at the roses, sweetheart,” I said, aiming for cheerful and probably landing somewhere around manic. “Your favorites. The red ones. Want to pick some?”
“Okay, Mama.”
