“That’s new,” he says quietly, nodding toward the cluster. “Being friends. Beingallowedto be friends.”
“What do you mean?”
“All this cooperation.” He gestures to the toys. “Usually we stick to our own territories and try to help out there. Crossing lines and socializing a little is something that’s only just started happening.”
“Why now?”
“Could be the changes in leadership, but I’m pretty sure they have something to do with it.” Again, he looks over at the royal women. “But it’s taken time to build that trust. Doesn’t mean you won’t be part of it.”
I glance up at him. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be part of any of this.”
Sy hands me two more items out of the cart. “Look, I don’t know what’s required to be a Baroness, but with everything you’ve been through, and the efforts you're taking to help recover your memories to find out who is hurting the women in Forsyth, I’m pretty sure you’re up for the job.”
Maybe it’s because of the hypnosis and the trust I had to put in him but I add, “I feel like people know things that I don’t.” My eyes flick to where Remy is working across the room. “And I guess I'm used to that with the missing gaps in my memory or the fact that I’m new, but considering all that, I don’t know if I will ever get my footing as Baroness.” I swallow. “Or even be a good wife to someone who doesn’t trust me enough to let me see his face.”
Sy doesn’t answer right away, just studies me with intense eyes. When he does, I’m surprised at the tone.
“That’s the King’s burden,” he says, a touch of anger there. “Not yours. You’re doing your part. He’s… well,” a flicker runs across his expression and I sense he’s weighing his next words. “Being a King in Forsyth comes with baggage, Arianette, and that includes the Baron King. Maybe one day he’ll have the guts to show you who he really is.”
I don’t know if I believe him.
He leaves to get another cartload, and Verity approaches the table. She’s no longer carrying the baby and I get a good look at the Princess, taking in her gorgeous red hair and bright green eyes.
Story arrives at the same time, arms full of stuffed animals she’s been sorting. “Where’s the little man?”
“Pace took him out to the car,” Verity says, smiling. “He claims it was because he was starting to fuss but I’m pretty sure he was just being paranoid.”
Lavinia slides in beside her, blue hair catching the overhead lights. “How are things really going with the baby?”
“Good.” Verity laughs–soft, a little self-conscious. “I mean, he saves the nuclear meltdowns for two AMsharp,and I’ve forgotten what a full night’s sleep feels like, but it’s good.”
Story sets her pile down and leans against the table. “I can’t even imagine. You look amazing, though. Like… glowy. Is that a real thing or just propaganda?”
“Propaganda,” Verity says instantly. “I’m running on decaf coffee and adrenaline. But when he smiles? Yeah. Worth it.”
They fall into easy chatter–Verity talking about cluster feeding, how Wicker is terrified of changing explosive diapers, how Pace has turned into a human burp cloth. Story absorbs every word while Lavinia seems completely uninterested in babies. I mostly listen, stacking board games into neat piles, feeling the conversation move around me like water around a stone. When Verity glances my way, I manage a small smile.
“He’s very cute,” I say quietly. “His eyes are so blue.”
“Thanks. He definitely takes after his father.” Verity’s eyes roll. “Neverlet him know I said that.”
I try to remember Whitaker from the wedding, but it’s all a blur. The whole day and night is lost to the aftermath: the cottage and, later, the fire. Verity straightens suddenly, brushing glitter off her hands. “Oh, before I forget. You’ll all be getting an invitation soon.”
Story looks up. “A party?”
“Sort of.” Verity gives a small, private grin. “My royal ascension.”
“What’s that?” I blurt, then regret it when all of their eyes shift to me.
“A ceremony to bind me as the mother of the next leader of East End.”
“So another ceremony?” Lavinia asks, an edge to her voice. “East End loves their goddamn ceremonies.”
The word catches me off guard. The Barons have ceremonies and rites. All of them are painful. I tilt my head and look at Verity through a new lens. Are the Princes’ traditions like ours? Forged in blood and hurt?
“I know it’s antiquated, but it’s an opportunity for me to protect JJ and hopefully make changes for the future.”
Story grins, voice soft and strange. “Vivarium,” she says, almost to herself. “Growth in confinement. Moving forward even when the walls are closing in.”
