I decide against it. Isla needs closure. She needs to have this meeting with her mother. Once it is over, I will find a way to get us out of this court.
I smile to myself. Who am I kidding? It is Isla who will more than likely save my ass yet again.
My whole chest warms just thinking about her. I can’t believe I’ve been such a fool.
I hold my breath when the woman returns and takes the bottle of wine into the bedchamber with her. She leaves the door open this time. I hear the creak of a chair. The soft sound of her drinking.
I slip closer to the archway, peering inside. She is at her desk. She dips an ink quill into a pot and starts writing.
I fall back into the shadows, where I wait.
The Ruler General refills her glass. She continues to work.
I wait some more.
I’m beginning to wonder if Isla will ever make an appearance when she says, “Mother.”
The word comes out rough and filled with raw emotion.
The quill drops.
I edge toward the door opening so that I can watch the exchange.
The woman’s body goes rigid, then she turns.
Her eyes find Isla immediately. I see the resemblance. The shape of her face. The set of her jaw. Isla’s features are softer, younger, but the bones beneath are the same. Their eyes as well. They have the same shape and the same coloring.
“Isla.” The woman chokes on the name. “It’s you. I didn’t think you’d come. I hoped… I longed…”
Neither of them moves. The moment stretches thin and taut between them. I can feel the weight of it from where I stand. Years of grief and absence and unanswered questions, all compressed into the space between a mother and the daughter she abandoned.
Then the woman is on her feet. Her chair crashes backward. She crosses the room in three strides and pulls Isla into her arms.
A sound tears out of her. Raw and desperate, perhaps a little broken.
Isla hugs her back. Her face presses into her mother’s shoulder. Isla makes a sobbing noise; she’s shaking. They both are.
I feel something tighten in my chest just watching them.
“My girl,” the woman whispers into Isla’s hair. “Oh, Isla, how good it is to see you.”
“I thought you were dead.” Isla’s voice is muffled against the white linen.
“I know.” Her mother’s voice breaks. “I know, my darling. But we are together now, and that is what counts. You came back to me. We can be a family now.”
She pulls back and cups Isla’s face in her hands. Her thumbs brush away the tears. She studies her daughter’s face like she’s memorizing every line.
“Look at you,” she whispers. “You’ve grown into such an incredible woman. So strong. So beautiful.” A sob escapes her, followed by a laugh. “So powerful too.”
She pulls Isla close again, one hand stroking her hair.
“This is how it should be,” she murmurs. “You can finally embrace who you truly are.”
I see Isla go still in her arms.
Her mother pulls back, her hands on Isla’s shoulders, her eyes bright and shining.
“You are Isla of the House of the Dark Dagger,” she says, and there is pride ringing in every word. “My daughter. Descendant of Ruler General Fenrik himself. You have a legacy, a birthright.”
