“So you’re keeping my mate from me for my own sake?!” I asked, my tone making it clear that I found this ridiculous.
“Yes.”
I growled in frustration, a thousand arguments rolling over my tongue.
“Fine, but I’m better now. You said it yourself that I was now treading a better path,” I argued.
“Maybe,” she replied with a shrug.
“For fuck’s sake!” I exclaimed again.
“I said watch your mouth, boy,” my mother said pointing a menacing finger at me. “If you stay the course, you will meet her in due time. And that’s the end of that.”
I emitted a furious growl that not only left her utterly unimpressed but even wrested a chuckle out of her.
“Now stop throwing a tantrum, and off you go,” my mother said while gesturing towards the door. “I have another guest coming.”
I muttered something unintelligible that had her smile broadening. And then a strange expression flitted over her face.
“For what it’s worth, your love for Ranael touches me. Of all his siblings, Ranael loved you best,” my mother said pensively.
My chest constricted with a mix of emotion and affection for my brother.
“As I do him. Will he ever be free?” I asked warily.
“In due time,” she quipped before laughing at my aggravation.
“ARGH! Always in due time,” I grumbled as I turned to leave.
“Wait!” she exclaimed, stopping me dead in my tracks.
I looked at her over my shoulder with an inquisitive look.
“Would you do your mother a favor?” she asked in an enigmatic tone.
Intrigued, I turned back to face her. “I might…” I replied in a noncommittal fashion.
When dealing with powerful beings like my mother—or dwellers from the Underworld—you never committed to anything until you had a full picture of what was expected of you. They were masters at binding you into pledging far more than you intended to their greater benefit and your complete detriment.
She chuckled, amused by my careful response, although I didn’t miss the glimmer of approval in her eyes.
“I need twelve Autumn Peony flowers. Would you mind fetching them for me?”
That request took me aback, but I nodded. “Sure, I’ll be right back.”
“No!” my mother exclaimed forcefully. “Not here and not now.”
I blinked, confused. “Excuse me?”
“You need to pick them at the Duskwallow Graveyard, on All Saints day. The best ones grow by the crematorium,” she said calmly.
I gaped at her. “Why in the world would you want flowers from that cursed place? You have the best of everything right here in your garden.”
Her face closed, and she took a mulish expression that made it clear there would be no changing her mind, which baffled me even more.
“I said Duskwallow Graveyard on All Saints day. Otherwise, don’t bother,” she retorted.
I studied her features wondering what she was plotting. The wretched female loved messing with people’s heads.
