Atilia turns her back on us and paces toward the window. The sun strikes her eyes more fiercely than she is used to, yet she does not look away. She stares into the brightening morning, unflinching. Fearless.
“House Taramethos will return soon,” she says. “They will demand answers for what happened here… again. Marlayna will be furious.”
“I am not afraid of Marlayna,” Luceran snarls. “I will deal with her.”
“No, you will not.” Atilia speaks over her shoulder, her voice calm, resolute. “I will. You and Neve will be far away by then.”
Luceran draws a breath, his mouth opening to argue, but as always, Atilia is quicker.
“I will take control of Castle Frostwyn. I will manage the Aurevault. I will curtsy and smile and beg forgiveness from that bitch Marlayna.” She exhales slowly. “I will do all of this because you are my son, and I will protect you always. How fortunate you are, Luceran, to have two souls in your life who wish for nothing more than to love you.” A pause. Then dryly, “Gods know why, as sullen as you are.”
“I cannot allow you to do that,” Luceran says.
“You are notallowingme to do anything.” She turns, arching a brow. “This is your father’s castle, and I have decided to take it back.”
My throat tightens as I rise to my feet. I am not sure how to accept such a gift, only that gratitude burns too fiercely for words. Tears threaten, but Luceran pulls me against his chest, his arm firm around my shoulders. Even he seems uncertain now, as though we have reached the end of a game we never expected to win.
“Go to my estate,” Atilia adds. “Take all the gold you can carry. I have plenty.”
“Mother,” Luceran says quietly. “We do not need your coin.”
Atilia lets out a dramatic groan. “You may be in love, Luceran, but do not be foolish. Even love must eat and pay rent.”
He pauses, drawing a steadying breath. His shoulders rise and fall before he slowly moves toward Atilia.
For a moment, he stands behind her in silence. Then he lifts his hand and rests it on her shoulder. She reaches for him at once, their fingers locking tight as he bends to murmur something into her ear that I cannot hear. Whatever he says makes her laugh softly. She grips his hand as he kisses her cheek.
Luceran turns back to me, and Atilia reluctantly releases him as he crosses the space between us.
“We have to go,” he says.
I nod, my thoughts scrambling to keep pace with everything unfolding. “We should pack.”
He smiles faintly and shakes his head. “I want to leave all of this behind. You are the only thing I need to take with me.”
I fall into his chest, my arms sliding around his waist. I close my eyes as warmth fills me, as I inhale his scent, as the steady vibration of his heartbeat thrums through me until it echoes my own. His hand moves gently through my hair, his lips brushing the crown of my head. Then he chuckles softly, as though reading my thoughts.
“But you would like to bring some books, wouldn’t you?”
I lift my gaze slowly, my lower lip caught between my teeth. “Just a couple.”
He tilts his chin, peering down his nose at me before breaking into a smile and nodding. “Whatever you want.”
He turns toward the door, away from the dining hall, away from his mother. I take a step with him, then hesitate.
His brow furrows, but when my eyes flick to Atilia, understanding dawns. He nods once.
I slip from his arms and cross the floor toward her, gathering courage as I go.
She turns as I approach and immediately rolls her eyes.
“What more could you want, girl?” she groans. “Your weight in diamonds?”
For a heartbeat, I wonder what possessed me to come this close to her, risk being throttled where I stand, rather than leave quietly with my gratitude unspoken. I have never been good at looking before I leap.
“I wanted to say thank you,” I manage, the words tumbling out more awkwardly than I intend. My gaze darts between her sharp eyes and the floor, not quite brave enough to meet her fully. “I know you have never been fond of me…”
“Hmph.” She huffs softly. “I thought you had more sense than that, girl. Of course I am notfondof you. You do not undo centuries of history for one freckle-faced human, no matter how valiant…” My chin lifts. “…or how stupid,” it drops just as quickly, “…she might be.”
