Before
There were only a few minutes.A few precious minutes. Sweat coated my skin, but I did not slow down. If I only had minutes, I was not going to waste them. The last few yards of the curve were excruciating, but then I was crashing through the door of my room. I threw down the heavy bag of books on my perfectly made bed?—
“Mother!” I exclaimed, catching the thick post at the foot of the bed to slow my momentum so I wouldn’t pitch forward and knock her down. She sat on the edge of the bed she’d made, a thick bundle of fabric spread across her lap.
“Your studies ended early,” she said, lifting her brows. Not quite a question, and one I definitely was not going to answer.
Studies with my sisters were torture. Alize was only four years old, but she already enjoyed showing off her intelligence—especially if she could manage to insult my own while she was at it. Margeaux, who was tasked with overseeing our education, made an art of insulting us both. Alize was harmless. Margeaux would poison my porridge if she thought she’d get away with it.
I’d come to Balar Shan expecting a family. Instead, I’d found a fractured, political nightmare where titles were used as weapons. I was the Duke of Sein Talam, but my newborn brother was the Prince. Margeaux’s mother was set aside, so she became a lady instead of a princess. In the time I’d been here, Alize was born, celebrated, then stripped of her own title of princess, and her mother executed. A new queen sat on the throne now, the third my father had crowned. This one had given him a boy.
Alize had composed a poem about her mother’s demise. Margeaux had thrown it in the trash. I’d slipped out when Alize’s governess intervened to stop Margeaux from striking our younger sister.
But there was not much time before I was due in the presence chamber. Which meant every second was precious. Where was my sword?
“Come here and let me see how this fits against your chest,” my mother said, holding up the garment. “You are nearly bursting out of that one.”
She meant the surcoat I wore. I angled my body so she would not see the tear I’d rent in the shoulder.
“Not now,” I said. I spotted my sword in the corner.
“Garrick, you cannot wear that torn old thing to attend Queen Jeyna. It will displease the king.” Her voice was calm, but I recognized the tone. The faster I complied, the sooner I’d be in the courtyard sparring with the other boys.
I dragged my eyes away from my sword. Mentally, I began to count down the seconds until I would be free. My mother stood, holding up the surcoat she’d been working on so that the shoulders aligned with my own.
Horror spread in my chest as I got a proper look at the garment. “Only the old men wear quilted surcoats!”
She nearly dropped the coat. Her arms fell in time with her face, the edges of the hem she’d carefully stitched brushing the floor.
“I apologize,” she said quietly. “The fashions have changed since I was last at Balar Shan. I will do better.”
She did not go to the presence chamber or attend court functions. She barely left her modest quarters. She took a singular path from her room to mine, and then back again. She did not even go outside. The cold made her wrists ache.
For my entire life, she’d done the best she could.
In my entire life, I’d never been the one responsible for that look on her face.
She sat back down on the edge of the bed, returning her needle to the garment, as if I’d said nothing at all. Once I left, she’d start removing the stitches or recut it for herself. Even in this place of opulence, she did not let anything go to waste.
“Mother.”
She did not look up. “Go find your friends, Garrick. You only have a few minutes to yourself before you’re called to attend the new prince.”
She knew me so well. In the Court of Lies, she was the only person who truly did. We could only ever be our true selves behind this closed door. I was the Duke of Sein Talam, but it meant nothing. Nothing good.
“Queen Anais is not even cold in her grave,” I said bitterly. I wondered if Alize missed her mother, the dark-haired queen who’d been the first to greet me the day I arrived in Balar Shan.
My mother’s expression did not shift. “Queen Jeyna has her victory.”
“Maybe he will finally let us go.” My father was to blame for all of this. He’d taken my mother as mistress—a human, an insult to the first in his line of fae queens—and then gotten herwith child. He’d called us back here. He’d given me a title that infuriated my sisters and the courtiers.
“Your place is here, and my place is at your side. I am your mother,” she said calmly.
She was too good for this place. I opened my mouth to tell her so, but a knock at the door cut through the silence before I could speak.
The war of emotions must have shown on my face. I was better at shielding my feelings than when I’d arrived at the Court of Lies, but my mother read me better than anyone. She nodded toward the door.
I sighed heavily but did as she bid.
